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marshmallo824 · 2 years ago

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Thinking about how people who only (or primarily) understand Mike’s arc through a “hes queer and coming to accept it / struggling with heteronormativity/will get his happy ending when he gets with Will” lens are missing at least half of what defines his arc in the wider context / themes of the show.

Forewarning: long post (& also maybe an unpopular opinion)

Even as a queer person myself, I know that his arc isn’t solely about embracing his queerness (though it’s inherently interlinked). In Mike, you have a character who is being radically challenged by both external circumstances and his own decisions through a journey away from all kinds of forced conformity (social, familial, romantic & heteronormative) and into someone self actualized enough to live how they want…while also being strong enough to accept that they made mistakes along the way. Someone who is learning to be brave enough to say “this is who I am, what I enjoy, and what/who I love…and while it took me a lot of time to figure it out, now I can exist in the world embracing that even though it will take consistently resisting the tendency to accommodate people who think it’s unacceptable.”

Like. Even from a time before puberty (see: S3) Mike wants a life that stands apart from what’s expected of him in every area, not just in choosing a romantic relationship with another guy. He wants to continue to be a nerd and “child at heart” even though something else is repeatedly demanded of him by everyone from his parents to El in his romantic relationship. He wants to be a writer and someone who takes those nerdy interests into his adult life (cue aggressive gesturing toward the duffers themselves) and grates against all that’s been constructed for him even when he’s not (yet) brave enough to challenge it directly. Mike liking boys/loving Will is just “the final nail in the coffin” of his social and societal nonconformity—not the first (or the last) aspect of what makes him different from Hawkins or the life he was made to believe would suit him best.

Even the fact that Mike has a desire to be “normal” comes from an insecurity and fear that choosing what he truly wants will lead to him being outcasted and losing the people he cares for entirely—which is partially motivated by his queerness yes, but that also has a basis in his general interests and personality…which becomes especially obvious when you realize we are repeatedly shown that he is punished/has his wishes ignored in all areas he doesn’t conform, even long before we get into a plot where it’s clearer he likes boys.

We see it in how his parents have already started to demand he put boundaries on the time he spends playing his “childhood games” the very first scene of season one, how they demand social acceptable emotions from him when Will is missing, and how Karen & Ted want him to give up toys in S2 when he’s showing signs of depression (because they think the issue is him growing up, not that he’s struggling with loss or guilt for what happened to El).

We see it in how his own father comments about taking his CA trip away from him after calling Hellfire being a group for “dropouts” in S4 (implying that he is failing on an academic and social level that matters to wheelers—and that Nancy is good at).

We even see it in the way everyone from his bullies to his own girlfriend threaten and take things away from him when he doesn’t conform to social expectations...from Troy telling him to jump off the cliff to save Dustin in S1 (as punishment for the one time Mike stands up for himself in the gymnasium) to El jumping straight into breaking up with him and spying on him when he doesn’t do exactly what she wants him to in Season 3.

All of these moments are critical to understanding Mike as a person because they show us that, even without addressing his queerness, Mike’s desire to conform to socialized expectations involves but is not solely about him moving out of heteronormativity—it’s about him moving against everything that WASP, patriarchal, heteronormative and capitalistic and performative “wholesome American” values…and how he is learning to move past the fear of what will happen if he steps outside the lines in general, even though he already knows he hates those standards.

Mike’s “coming of age” arc is about finding the strength to choose the “path less traveled” in all areas of his life—even when it means (potentially) losing the support of the people he cares about. It’s about starting from a place of privilege and becoming okay with being outcasted from it in a way your insecurities never let you be before (which is inherently different than Will, who has always been shown to have some kind of support not just for his queerness but his artistic endeavors as well). Mike’s lack of support is why he starts from a place of deep insecurity, yes—but it’s also why him learning power of choosing to be himself, even if it means “losing” people when he’s honest about who (& what) he is will be universally powerful.

You don’t need to be queer to understand the power of what it means to know you will be okay even if people leave you. You don’t need to be queer to understand the power of stepping outside social expectations or your family’s way of raising you. You don’t even need to be queer to understand the weight of breaking up with someone you were only with to satisfy what you thought you should do, rather than be with who you want to.

The power of being strong enough to overcome your insecurities in order to “step out of line” and live and love as you want to is universal, and a stunningly brave choice no matter what or why you chose to do so. The fact that Will will be there waiting to love him in that honesty with himself is beautiful, yes—but it’s not the only lesson to be learned for Mike’s character.

Mike starting out with everything the world (or, at least America) tells would make you happy, realizing he is not happy with those things and rejecting them knowing it might have consequences is what makes his arc powerful, because he is learning (exactly like his sister Nancy) to be brave enough to accept those consequences (which for him are getting dumped, and feeling like he’s being left behind by some of his friends) to follow his own heart.

Even though The Duffers aren’t writing this into a tragic ending (aka: he’s not going to die or be left alone, because the duffers writing is inherently designed ro champion the outcast), these are the things that have (and will) make him relatable even to an audience that doesn’t know queerness. Erasing the fact that his lesson is the bravery it takes to follow your heart solely to talk about him liking guys (even Will) is to undermine his humanity, and the lessons to be learned from him by even the most general an audience.

TL:DR - the heteronormative aspect of Mike’s character is not the sole or even inherent issue within Mike, though heteronormativity is inherently built into his struggle.

There are deep dives on how his arc is also about a war against toxic patriarchy, toxic masculinity, emphasis on capitalistic and academic accomplishments over artistic ones, and even conformist relationships (whether they’re queer or not) that should be explored for his character—and I for one like him too much not to move out of just “this boy is queer because xyz” and into “let’s talk about Mike in terms of the wider scope of his cultural context and upbringing.” 🤷🏽‍♀️😂

#mike wheeler #this is so important to understanding him actually

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marshmallo824 · 2 years ago

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from @willelworld, to @marshmallo824

Will is mad.

He’s been sitting on his bed fuming for the past two hours, stirring in a thick cloud of frustration while staring down at his final project for ART235. There’s one of Jonathan’s mixtapes— he made it for Will as a graduation present, congrats on surviving high school. literally!— buzzing from his Walkman headphones, acting as white noise to wade through the jumbled thoughts straggling around his mind.

He’s burning up in a newfound rage at the fact that he just can’t figure out what’s wrong with this piece lying in his lap. The class is one of his art electives— The Beauty of Still Life — and despite being only a 200 level elective course, it’s been pulling Will through the wringer all semester long. After two graphite drawings, three chalk pastels, a 3D clay model, and his very first venture into oil painting, Will is decidedly not seeing the beauty in it. He is, however, seeing red, because the final project is due tomorrow morning, and it’s already ten at night, and the charcoal coating his fingers and therefore streaking across his bed sheets is enough to have him in tears. Will holds them back, and continues to stare blankly, like the flowers and grapes and vase will actually come to life and clue him in on what he’s been getting wrong, what feels so off about the piece as a whole.

It’s the last night of Hanukkah, and Will has spent the better half of it rolling around his bed, sighing every few minutes as he makes another mark with a stick of charcoal, smudging it with a finger, then realizing it wasn’t looking any better. The kneaded eraser feels sweaty in his palm as he continues playing with it like a stress toy.

He and Mike had lit the final set of candles of their chanukiah hours ago, the flames leaving dripping wax in their wake as Will sat and watched. It was his first time celebrating away from home, from his family, which felt different, but he’s lucky to at least have Mike around to get a sense of home. Another thing he’s mad about - finals week taking up the time where he could be home with his mom, Jonathan, El and Hop, but instead he’s been swamped with hours upon hours of tedious papers, crammed studying, and finishing this stupidly frustrating still life.

In all, his first semester of college was nice, if not a bit hectic. Living with Mike had been both a dream and a nightmare, which he fully expected when signing himself up for living with the guy you’re in gay love with. And now, he’s only twelve hours away from the end, the finish line in sight, the last sprint before he’s back in Hawkins for a month of rest and recuperation. But this drawing is all wrong, and he’s ready to resign himself to a B+ in this class by handing in the world’s shittiest charcoal still life at 10 AM sharp. After that, the two of them will shove their suitcases and duffle bags of necessities into Mike’s trunk, and drive the hours-long ride home for winter break.

Will’s stomach growls embarrassingly loud, enough so that he hears it over both the headphones and music. As if on cue, the door handle jangles around and Mike waltzes through, kicking it shut behind him. He’s carrying a white porcelain plate with a couple of latkes, reheated from a few nights ago. Earlier in the week, Mike had somehow found the time amidst his plethora of essays to conjure up freshly made latkes in their dinky little communal dorm kitchen. Will isn’t sure how he did it, considering the sheer lack of kitchen utensils, and the rusted stove that clearly hasn’t been updated since the 50’s, a fire hazard waiting to happen. But nonetheless, when Mike had walked back upstairs carrying a platter filled with that beautiful fried potato, Will just about cried at the sentiment.

Mike joins him on his bed without asking, knowing full well that he’s allowed, and Will’s stomach growls again for good measure, like an alarm blaring out his jealousy over Mike finishing the last of the batch. Will hooks his single clean finger around the headphones and tugs them off.

Wordlessly, Mike hands him the plate. “For you,” he says, voice airy and dripping with fondness. Will could kiss him on the spot. He smiles, then looks down at his fingertips covered in chalky black, and then looks back to Mike sheepishly.

“Open. I’ll feed you,” Mike commands, and Will coughs out a laugh in surprise. He gives him a funny look, expecting Will to carry out their normal routine: Will refuses the help, then Mike pushes him on it, and Will caves immediately.

Will could argue on this, and he considers it, but he’s starving, and it feels ridiculous at this point to decline Mike’s care. They’ve fought monsters together and protected each other in literal battles. Mike hand feeding him latkes isn’t gonna kill him. Maybe.

“I feel like a baby right now,” Will admits, opening his mouth regardless of the comment as Mike breaks off a small piece for him to eat, then takes a bite for himself. They were much better fresh, but Will can’t complain. Mike pushes another piece against Will’s mouth before he’s done chewing the first, laughing, warm and light, at the unimpressed glare he receives.

And this is where Will’s biggest problem lies. This is the root of his current predicament with the still life. See, while he should’ve been spending the past three weeks getting a head start on his final project, he instead chose to work on something that’s, in his opinion, much more important, if not stupidly reckless. Will had put all of his free time towards a painting for Mike. A new one, a callback to the last grand piece he dedicated to him, in the backseat of that musty, sweltering pizza van flying through the Nevada desert.

He’s being stupid, Will realizes. He understands that, fully. He’s spent months overanalyzing every interaction with Mike since graduation. He spent the entirety of late October contemplating if he should go through with it, with making him another painting. This time, with a proper, honest confession attached. Not the piss-poor excuse of whatever he gave last time, hiding behind El, making a fool of himself with his trembling, lying words.

This time, he actually does have a little confidence. Mike has always been kind with him, always caring and gentle, but never in an insulting or belittling manner. But ever since they moved in together, it’s like the final walls separating the two of them fell, and Mike’s been all over him. He’s always complimenting Will, more than normal, peppering him with little innocuous comments on how nice he looks today or how well he’s doing in his classes or how good he’s been at making new friends. On top of that, Mike’s dialed up his touchiness to an entirely unheard level. He’s gotten more hugs from Mike in the past three months than in the entirety of high school. And the worst (best) part, is the ‘flirting.’ Will is hesitant to call it that, not wanting to get his hopes up, but he just doesn’t know another word to use that sums up all the little moments in their conversations that feel too playful, too endearing, and altogether too sweet.

It’s like Mike had some grand revelation on move-in day back in August, that this was for real. That Will wasn’t going anywhere. That they survived all the bullshit of their childhood, and they still have each other, and nothing could change that other than their own choices, not some ever-looming threat of death.

Whatever it is, Will is grateful, but he also wasted so much energy on dissecting every change in Mike’s behavior, every normal action amplified by an indescribable air of openness, trust, and, dare he say it, love. Will is feeling loved, every single day, and it unsettles him greatly. Not that he doesn’t feel loved by his family and friends at home, of course not. But this is a different kind of love. He feels wanted.

Which is why, despite their 13 years of platonic history, and despite his better judgment, he’s decided to take the plunge. Risk it all, so to speak. Gamble their friendship. Put his heart on the line and pray that Mike picks it back up, gingerly in his hands. That he returns it to Will’s chest in-tact and, against all odds, returns his feelings, too. If it all blows up in his face, Will’s betting on their school’s resident housing office to help him switch to a new dorm before the start of the Spring semester.

He’s chewing on another piece of the latke, deep in thought about this sticky situation, when Mike oh so helpfully points out his other, more pressing plight.

“How’s the still life going?” he asks, staring down at the almost completed drawing in Will’s lap. “It looks really nice.”

Will groans at this. “You say that about all my work. It’s starting to mean less and less everyday, you know.”

Mike scoffs playfully, not really hurt, but wanting to keep this conversation fun and spirited. “You’re saying my expert opinion doesn’t matter?”

“Expert in what, exactly?” Will welcomes the needed distraction from his work, and he wouldn’t admit it if asked, but he really does love to hear Mike comment on his art. Mike was his first critic, his first muse, and his biggest fan when it comes to his artwork.

“I’m the world’s leading expert in Will Byers art history. After you die they’re gonna be begging me to sell your old paintings, but I won’t budge.”

“After I die?” Will asks, eyes bulging as he laughs out the words. “Are you gonna open a museum in my honor, or something?”

Mike rolls his head to the side where it’s resting against the wall, linking their eyes. “Oh, definitely. There’ll be a whole wing just for D&D. I’ll sell Will the Wise merch in the gift shop for a profit.”

Will laughs again at the imagery Mike created for him, and shakes his head, his smile wide and on display. Mike tears his gaze away from Will’s eyes and for a moment, it moves to somewhere lower, a dangerous spot just below his nose and right above his chin. And then he’s looking down at the charcoal drawing again.

“Why are you still working on it, though? This looks incredible. Really. Like, really, really professional,” and Will can tell Mike’s having trouble finding the right words to describe the drawing, because it’s unlike any of the art Will actually enjoys creating. It’s black and white for starters, and there’s no people, just inanimate objects.

Will looks back up to Mike’s face, and he’s clearly concentrating hard. He appreciates the concern Mike gives him, the effort he puts into things even when he’s not quite sure how. “Not enough magic for your taste?”

This brings a closed-mouth grin to Mike’s lips, but he still hasn’t broken his gaze from the drawing. “Could use a dragon or two, I suppose.”

He’s suddenly all too aware of the painting currently hiding underneath his bed, right below the two of them. It’s different from the one he made in ‘86. Rather than the Party fighting a three-headed dragon, it’s simply a full-body portrait of Sir Mike. Will’s improved significantly in the past three and a half years, constantly honing his skills with acrylic paint through high school and now early college. He thinks he got the metallic reflect on Mike’s paladin armor just right, and he made sure to include the big old heart on his shield, again. Just to hammer home the point even more.

“But like, for real. From an objective standpoint, can you see anything— I don’t know— weird about it?” Will probes for more feedback. He should’ve paid more attention in the critique for his last project.

Mike goes quiet this time, zoning in on it. Will watches as his eyes glide back and forth, picking up on all the details. The lines and streaks of the charcoal stick lie across the finely textured paper. The hours of smudging and blending that Will endured, chasing perfection. The negative space he left behind for the highlighted points. The shadows cast by each object— a bowl of grapes surrounded by ornate candlesticks and a vase with a single lily flower— making them look like they’re bouncing off the paper and taking up real space. All the elements are present, but yet, something isn’t quite right.

“It’s the perspective, isn’t it?” Will interrupts the peaceful silence, breaking Mike’s concentration with his anxious rambling. “That’s definitely it. But it’s too late- I don’t think I can really fix it at this point- and I don’t have time to start all over, I mean I’ve been working on this nonstop for a week and a half and I don’t know why I keep fucking it up and—“

“Will,” Mike cuts him short with a hand pressed to his forearm, almost clutching at him. “There’s nothing wrong with the perspective. This looks crazy realistic, like I could reach in and touch everything for myself, you know? But it still has that sense of, like, your style. It feels purposeful, I guess, with how you can see the lines if you look up close. It feels human, even though there’s no people included.”

Will stares at him in a profound shock, like he didn’t expect Mike to go so deep with his analysis. He blinks a few times, a blush sprouting on his cheeks. “Thank you- that’s, that’s so. I’m so— thank you.” He settles on a simple form of gratitude, not wishing to trip over his words any longer.

“It’s perfect,” Mike tacks on, finally looking back upwards to take in Will’s expression. Will forgot how forward Mike is with his compliments for his art, as it’s been a good long while since he’s properly gifted him anything. Will feels a mix of excitement and dread at how Mike will react to his present-slash-confession. He’s planning on showing him the painting on the night the Party officially holds their holiday festivities, once everyone’s returned from their respective schools. He figures it’s a nice enough opportunity to give him the painting, and also relieves Will of the panic around finding Mike a suitable Christmas gift.

And Will thinks it’s over. He thinks his heart is finally safe to crawl back down his throat and settle into his ribcage once more. But Mike has other plans.

“You’re perfect,” Mike says in a whisper, but his eyes are still locked tight in an unbreaking connection with Will’s. He means it wholeheartedly, and Will sees something glimmer in his eyes at that moment. He’s made a choice.

Before Will can even process Mike’s words or begin to formulate a coherent response, Mike’s face is suddenly in front of him and it’s all he can see. It’s all he knows. Mike Mike Mike. Screw The Beauty of Still Life, Wil decides he’s never going to make another piece of art that isn’t focused around the boy in front of him.

Will’s not really sure what he expected would happen within the next few seconds, as all his brain power is going towards deciphering the logistics of proposing his new major that entirely surrounds painting this beautiful boy he lives with, but then there’s a pressure on his mouth, and he’s thrown out of his daze.

What the fuck. Mike’s kissing me. And it’s an electric shock to his nervous system, and it’s like his body’s being woken up by a bucket of frozen water as he’s flung into the present moment. His brain catches up, and before he starts kissing back or doing really anything at all, Mike’s pulling away. His eyes are searching his face, back and forth, in this confused and hopeful and pained fashion, brows pinching in the center.

Instead of saying anything useful, Will blurts out, “Oh my god, you ruined the surprise.” He’s thinking about how many hours of tossing and turning in his bed, pondering what words to use when he inevitably reveals the true depth of his feelings. All the worries and fears he’s harbored, all the insecurities, they’re playing on a loop in his mind, like how they say your life flashes before your eyes right as you die. He’d gladly let Mike kill all his fears.

“What?” Mike utters, quiet and hurt, his very own fears springing up as his brain zeros in on the word ‘ruined’ and nothing else. Will wants to punch himself in the face.

“Shit, sorry, I meant. I meant that, I was planning on doing that, too. As a Christmas present,” Will states, dumbly. He’s still a bit disoriented.

“You were planning on kissing me as a present?” Mike giggles, his eyes turning to crescents. “I mean, I’m not complaining. But you could do that any day of the year, if you want.”

“No, that’s— I was trying to say that… that I’ve spent the past few weeks writing up this- this whole confession to you in my head. And I wanted to wait until we were back in Hawkins and not, like, sleeping in the same room. In case things got awkward,” Will explains, still sounding sort of silly. He’s never felt simultaneously so embarrassed yet so overjoyed.

Mike’s laughing a little, eyes dazzling. But now he’s sobering up, listening to Will intently.

“And, I- um. I kinda— I made you a painting.”

Mike brightens at this, his smile widening even more, somehow. “Like the one when we were fifteen?” He asks, teasing, with a tilt of his head.

Will sighs, embarrassment trickling in yet again. “Yeah. Like the one when we were fifteen. But much better quality, and more kissing involved, preferably.”

It’s like Mike was waiting to hear the word ‘kiss’ again for the green light to lean back in. He puts a hand on the back of Will’s neck and into his hair, pulling him closer. Will rests his own on the side of Mike’s face, cautiously, like he’s still not sure if he’s allowed to do this. They meet in the middle, and this time, it’s not as much of a jolt, as an overwhelming feeling of warmth. It’s like pouring warm water over your hair and down your neck— shuddering, but in a good way.

When they break apart again, Will realizes he never wiped the charcoal off his hands, and there’s a collection of smeared black fingerprints on Mike’s cheek. He can’t contain his laugh at the sight, bubbling up out of him. He feels on fire. He feels hysterical.

“Can I see the painting, now that I’ve ruined your surprise?” Mike asks, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Will considers it, and then shakes his head. “Nah, you’re gonna have to wait for the full thing. Including the confession. It’s only fair.”

Mike wilts at this, grabbing Will’s neck again from where his hand has been resting on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can spend the next ten days pretending like there’s nothing between us,” he says in a hushed tone. He’s being dramatic, Will notices, and it’s in that faint teasing tone that Mike always does when he tries to get his way.

“I mean, you don’t have to do that,” Will offers.

Mike spends a total of five seconds considering this, before he outright asks: “So, you’ll be my boyfriend now?”

Will barks out another laugh at the way he phrased it. Sometimes, it’s hard to keep up with Mike’s impulsivity. He’s spent the last couple of years wanting to make a move, and then the past months building up to actually doing it. But here Mike is, beating him to it in a seemingly split-second decision.

“Yes, of course. Of course I’ll be your boyfriend,” Will answers him, beaming at the prospect. He can’t believe his luck. He can’t believe Mike’s timing.

“Okay… so, can I see the painting now?”

Will rolls his eyes without a hint of malice, shoving Mike in the shoulder. “Did you really think that would work?”

Mike leans into Will’s space once more, bouncing back to him like a rubber band. He’s never seen the other boy happier. “Worth a shot.”

A couple weeks later, when Will receives his final grades, the “B+” next to ART235 is enough for him.

It’s perfect, even.

#WHATTTTT #this is so adorable oh my goodness what a wonderful secret santa :((#tysm for writing this i love it so dearly

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