#fic: goodbye kiss | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghosttotheparty · 1 year

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stars and sand and leaves, pt III

also on ao3 // part I // part II

They go to Steve's the next day. Robin is grinning the whole drive, her legs bouncing in anticipation, and they're relieved to see Eddie's van in the driveway when they get there. Nancy prepares to knock, but Robin just swings the door open, kicking her shoes off toward a wall. They land in a pile of Steve's shoes and Eddie's boots.

"Hello!" she calls loudly, singing, and Steve shouts from the kitchen. Nancy smiles as she toes her shoes off and follows Robin.

"I'm making lunch," Eddie says when they walk in. He's at the stove, making something that Nancy can't see from where she's standing, wearing a frilly apron. Steve is emptying the dishwasher. "You want some?"

"Yes," Robin says, striding past him to Steve. "But first, why didn't you tell us?" She pushes him, but she's still grinning, and Eddie raises an eyebrow at them as Steve stumbles back, looking at her, wide-eyed.

"Why didn't I tell you..." he repeats, looking at her eyes, wide and shining, and glancing at Nancy, who suppresses a smile and raises her eyebrows. "...Did you guys talk?"

"Oh, we did more than talk, Steve," Robin says, and a laugh bursts out of him as he drops the cup he's holding (plastic, thankfully) and wraps his arms around her, lifting up triumphantly. She laughs.

Nancy goes to stand with Eddie, who's watching with his arms crossed contently, holding the spatula. She leans against the counter, watching fondly as Steve swings Robin in a circle, and Eddie uncrosses his arms, wrapping one around her shoulders. She leans against him.

"You kiss her?" Eddie asks.

"Yup."

"Tongue?"

"Yup."

"Nice."

She nods. Steve and Robin are talking now, excitedly smiling and giggling, and in this moment they look younger than they've looked in a long while. Steve looks over and beams at Nancy.

"...You guys fuck?" Eddie asks after a moment.

"Oh, yeah."

"When and where?"

"Approximately five minutes after I told her I liked her, and in the backseat of my car."

"Nancy Wheeler, you dog."

She snickers, and he squeezes her.

"Why didn't you just tell her I'm gay?" Robin is shouting, her arms still around Steve.

"Why didn't you just follow my fucking advice?" he says back. "I'm always right about this stuff, Robs."

Nancy can feel Eddie shaking as he laughs.

"You guys are together, aren't you?" she asks softly, glancing up and seeing how his eyes are shining. "You and Steve?"

"Yeah," he sighs. "Since, uh. Not long after Vecna."

"You kiss him?"

His smile grows, and he speaks softly.

"He kissed me."

"Tongue?"

"Yup."

"Nice."

He squeezes her again, and she rests her head on his shoulder for a moment before she asks, "What are you making for lunch?"

"Oh, fuck," he says sharply, pulling his arm away and spinning around to the stove. There's a sandwich in the pan. "I promised I wouldn't burn it."

He flips it over, and the bottom side is dark, smoking a little bit. He grimaces.

"This one'll be mine and he'll never know."

But a moment later, Steve calls, "Eddie, I smell smoke, did you burn something?"

"Uh-- I'm having a cigarette!"

They all sit at the table together to eat, and Eddie grins the whole time, fondly calling them a big ol' group of queers.

Robin stays at Nancy's house for the rest of the summer. She calls it lesbian privilege that Nancy's parents don't question it, even when they see Robin laying with her head in Nancy's head as they watch a movie in the living room. Robin helps Nancy go through what she's packing, what she wants to leave behind. Mike gets used to seeing her around after a week, treating her almost the same as Nancy, but he steals her coffee once and then gives it back after less than a minute after finding out how much sugar she takes in it. ("That's disgusting, Robin, it's way too sweet." "Your sister's way too sweet." "Oh... my god.") He starts knocking on Nancy's door before entering after walking in them making out.

Will stays over at their house almost as much as Robin. He doesn't spend the night nearly as much, but even when the other kids aren't over, while they're out doing other things, he and Mike are constantly together. Nancy comes home one day to find them putting dishes away while Karen cooks, giggling and stumbling over each other's feet as they try to navigate the small space. She finds them in the basement when she gets them for dinner, laying on the sofa and looking through some of Will's drawings. Another time, Robin comes into Nancy's room and says that Mike let her in, that he was sitting with Will as he painted at the kitchen counter.

Nancy pulls Mike aside one night, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him into the kitchen.

"Ow, what?" He tries to get his arm loose.

"You would have told me, right?" she says, looking at him, wide-eyed. "If you and Will were--"

"Shut the fuck up," he hisses, his eyes equally wide. "I haven't-- Yes, I would tell you, Jesus."

"Okay," she says, releasing him.

That night Nancy is laying in bed, Robin's head on her chest as she reads and Nancy plays with her hair, and there's a knock on the door.

"Yeah?"

The door cracks open, and Mike's voice says, "Are you both dressed?"

"Yes," Nancy sighs as Robin snickers quietly, lowering her book as Mike comes in, shutting the door behind himself, and he silently comes over and falls face-first on the bed next to them, groaning loudly.

"You okay?" Robin asks, shifting so she can look at him, and he groans again, louder, dramatically. He turns his head after a moment, his face squished against the bed, his hair covering him.

"How do I know when to tell him?"

"Tell who what?" Robin asks, her voice gentle, because she can tell how upset Mike is, and Nancy winces, running her fingers through her hair.

"You wanna tell Robin what's going on?" she asks Mike, seeing his eyes look at her through his hair. "She won't tell anyone."

Mike sighs, sending his hair flying, and he rolls onto his side, curling into a ball as he reaches to grab the stuffed rabbit that Steve gave Nancy on her birthday. He hugs it to his chest, hesitating.

"I like Will."

Robin's eyebrows fly up, and she starts to smile before she reaches out and ruffles his hair affectionately.

"When did you know when to tell Nancy?" he asks her, and she moves to rest her face on Nancy's stomach, looking at Mike.

"I didn't," she says. Nancy runs her fingers through her hair again, watching. "I didn't say anything until she told me she liked me, and then I immediately accidentally confessed my undying love for her."

Mike is smiling.

"'I love women,'" Nancy repeats, making Robin's cheeks flush. "'And I love you specifically--'"

"Shut up," Robin says, swatting at her with a stuffy, and Nancy giggles, taking it from her as Mike watches, amused.

"How'd you know when to tell her?" he asks Nancy.

"Uh." She sighs, looking at Robin as she thinks. Robin blinks up at her, smiling. "Just kinda knew. In the moment." She looks at Mike, who's listening intently, half his face covered by the rabbit, the other half covered with his hair. "It was scary as hell, but..."

"You'll know when to tell him, Mike," Robin says gently, reaching over and moving his hair out of his face. "The moment'll smack you right across the face."

His eyes squint under his smile.

He's quiet for a moment as Robin tucks his hair behind his ear.

"You know about... Eddie. And Steve. Right?"

Nancy hums affirmatively.

"Did Eddie tell you, like, how he told Steve?" he asks. "He didn't tell me."

Nancy shakes her head, looking down at Robin.

"He didn't tell me."

"Uh, he told me," Robin says, retracting her hand and hiding Nancy's waist. Her hand is warm. "But it's..."

Mike raises his eyebrows.

"Well, you know how Eddie is," she says. "Just, as a person."

"Yeah."

"So he was hitting on Steve, like, as a joke, even before we beat Vecna, it was just a thing between them. And then apparently one night they were getting high, and Steve's a lightweight, so Eddie was just kinda looking after him while he was stoned, and Steve, like..." Mike is listening intently, unblinking as he looks at Robin. "Just... spilled to him. That he thought was hot and he was into him, and he wanted to, uhm. Kiss him."

"Uh-huh," Mike says, his nose wrinkled.

"But he was too high, so Eddie didn't let him, and he just made him drink some water and go to bed, and then the next day they talked and then he let Steve kiss him."

Mike sighs heavily, rolling onto his back and looking at the ceiling, the rabbit on his chest.

"Okay," he says. "Well Will and I don't do drugs like you guys, so--"

Nancy snorts.

"You make it sounds like crack, it's just weed, Mike."

"Then why won't you share?"

"Because you're a child."

He makes a face at the ceiling.

"Do you think... it's worse if I take a long time to tell him?" he asks. "Am I wasting time?"

"You have all the time you need, Mike," Robin says softly. "You don't need to rush it if you're not ready to tell him."

He sighs again.

He spends the night with them that night, curled up around the rabbit against Nancy's side. Nancy is going to miss this.

**********

"No, you gotta... Mike, those lines aren't even parallel."

Will is giggling, leaning over to point at the sketchbook in Mike's lap.

"You said there's no wrong way to do art."

"There is when you're not doing what you said you wanted to. That looks nothing like the door."

"I'm doing my best," Mike insists, dropping his hand. He really is, but it's hard to focus when Will is sitting so close. They're on the floor, sitting against Mike's bed, facing the door. The door that's on the sketchbook, but that looks nothing like what they're looking at. The lines are messy and scratchy, and it doesn't even look like a door, and Mike wants to give up, but Will is giggling and happy.

"Loosen your grip on the pencil," Will instructs. "You're holding it too tightly, you should be sketching, not... that."

"Wow."

Will giggles again, looking away, and Mike takes the opportunity to gaze at him. His hair is ruffled, still a little damp from biking over in the rain. It's grown out a little bit, and hehe argued against a haircut when Joyce suggested it.

He's also wearing one of Mike's sweaters because his shirt got soaked on the way over. And Mike thinks he may be dying.

Will looks back at him, eyes shining with amusement, and Mike suppresses a smile, looking back at the sketchbook and loosening his grip on the pencil.

"Okay," he says. "Lighter grip. Sketching."

He tries. It doesn't really work. Will is still laughing, watching Mike struggle, and his shoulder bumps against Mike's. It jostles him a little bit, but he doesn't mind because Will is touching him.

"Okay," he says again after a while. "You show me, I can't draw."

He passes the sketchbook over to him. Their fingers brush.

Will looks at Mike's drawing for a moment, smiling like he's fond of it, before he flips the page and glances up at the door.

"Sketching," he says pointedly, drawing quick, simple dashes of graphite across the paper. Mike watches the door slowly appear on the paper, the pencil light and gentle, like the drawing is quiet. He listens to Will's quiet breaths, to the scratching of the pencil, to the tapping of the rain outside.

It was all worth it, he thinks. All the fights, all the fear. Worth it to have Will Byers sitting on his floor with him. Smiling.

"How the fuck is that even possible?" Mike asks, exasperated, throwing his head back into the bed, and Will laughs, setting the pencil down and holding the sketchbook up to look at it next to the door.

"'S just practice," he says lightly. "You know how long I've been drawing."

"Yeah, and you've always been better than me."

"Have you ever drawn often?"

"No."

"That's why."

"Ugh."

Will snickers, setting the sketchbook down in his lap and looking at it happily, bringing his hands together and cracking his knuckles. Mike watches, mesmerized by his hands, but his expression morphs into horror as Will keeps going, twisting his fingers until every knuckle cracks, squeezing his thumbs in his fists until they pop. Will laughs when he sees Mike's expression.

"That's disgusting," Mike says, and Will laughs again.

"You wanna see the one that Jonathan hates the most?"

"Yeah."

Will grins, pressing his palms together and lacing his fingers before he slides his thumb under the other, hooking it under the side of his hand, and he presses, pushing the joint until it cracks loudly, and Mike exclaims. Will laughs, switching hands and doing the same to the other thumb.

"What the hell is wrong with your hands?" Mike asks loudly, and Will just giggles. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Not at all, no."

Mike stares, narrowing his eyes.

"Are you still possessed?"

Will snorts, elbowing him.

"Asshole." He looks at him. They're sitting so close. Mike could count his eyelashes. "It feels good."

"Doubt."

"Want me to show you how? You can freak out Nancy."

"Yeah," Mike says, grinning.

Will demonstrates, holding his hands up, lacing his fingers again, and Mike copies, watching. Will slowly shows him where to put his thumb, like he's gripping it in the space between his index finger and thumb, and he squeezes.

"It's not gonna do it because I just did it, but it should work for you."

Mike tries tentatively, but it doesn't work.

"Harder."

"I'm gonna break my fucking hand," Mike says, and Will laughs.

"Your hand's not gonna break, Mike, just..." He demonstrates again. Mike tries again. Nothing.

"Oh my-- Give me your hand."

Mike's face flushes with heat as Will takes his hand, his arm slipping under Mike's like he's going to link their elbows, and he holds his breath as Will laces their fingers, and his hand is so warm, and his skin is soft. How is his skin so soft? He doesn't have calluses on his palms like Lucas does, and why is Mike thinking about Lucas right now when Will Byer is holding his fucking hand–

Mike shouts in alarm when his thumb cracks, because he forgot what they were doing, the whole reason Will took his hand, and Will cackles.

"You're sadistic," Mike says loudly.

"You're so loud."

"Of course I'm loud, it sounded like you broke my fucking hand--"

"Did it hurt?"

"No."

"Exactly. It sounded like it broke, but it didn't hurt." Will is beaming. He's almost glowing in the greyish light from the window, like the sky is cloudy and dark because the sun is right here in Mike's living room. "You're so dramatic."

"You're dramatic."

Will rolls his eyes. He pauses for a moment, and then he looks down, and oh, right, they're still holding hands. Mike follows his gaze, looking at where their fingers are laced, and Mike thinks their skin looks nice together. Will is a little more golden than Mike is, and there's some paint stained around his nails and on his knuckles, and Mike can feel his pulse between his fingers.

Will's thumb brushes over Mike's skin, and Mike realises they've both just been staring at their hands, like they're some mystery that needs to be solved.

"Sorry," Will says softly, and he's pulling his hand away, but Mike's hand tightens, pulling it back desperately.

"No, it's... it's okay."

Will's hand relaxes, and he presses it into Mike's again, and Mike exhales.

Will's thumb brushes over his skin so softly that Mike can't even tell if Will is aware that he's doing it, and it feels so good that Mike might cry. Mike can't look away from their hands, like he's trying to memorize it in case it never happens again, and Will lets his head fall back to the bed, sighing, and they're just... holding hands.

Mike looks at him, at the side of his face. He's looking at the ceiling, his expression relaxed like he might fall asleep. And Mike needs him to know.

He remembers what Robin said a few weeks ago. That the right moment would smack him in the face. He feels smacked.

"Will," he whispers after a few moments of internal preparation. His heart is beating so fast he can't even feel it. He might have a heart attack. (What a headline: Boy, 15, Dies of Heart Attack While Holding Friend's Hand.)

"Yeah?"

Mike hesitates, biting his lip, looking at their hands, and when he speaks, his voice is softer than it's ever been, almost silent.

"I love you."

In his peripheral he sees Will look at him, but he can't move. He knows that wasn't clear, so he restates, furrowing his brows and wincing like it's painful.

"I'm... in love. With you."

Will is quiet.

And then his hand jerks out of Mike's, startling him, and he snaps, "Don't fuck with me, Mike, that's not funny."

Mike's blood runs cold, and he feels like's suddenly in the downpour outside. His hands are shaking, and Will sits up, moving away from Mike, which just makes him feel colder. He's never heard Will say fuck before. It's jarring, that word in his mouth.

"I'm not..."

Will glares at him. His eyes are gleaming, and he looks... disgusted.

Mike's eyes burn, and his lip quivers.

"I'm not fucking with you," he says weakly. He takes a sharp breath, but he can't inhale all the way, like his throat is blocking his lungs. "I'm-- I'm sorry, Will, I'm just..." His blood is rushing in his ears, and he might be hyperventilating, but he can't really tell. He doesn't feel like he's in his body. Can't feel the ground beneath him or the bed on his back. "I'm in love with you, I'm sorry."

Will stares at him, and Mike's vision is blurring, but even through his own tears he sees that Will's eyes are watery.

"You're serious?" Will whispers. His voice breaks. Mike nods, blinking tears out of his eyes. His whole body hurts, like his skin burns, like there's this ache in every cell inside him that he can't get rid of.

He apologizes again, chokes the words out, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Mike," Will breathes. Mike shakes his head, lowering his head like he's hiding, because he's ruining it all. Everything. Ten fucking years, all gone because Mike's heart ached in a way it wasn't supposed to. It isn't okay like Eddie said it was. Like Nancy said it was.

"Mike, please..."

A low sob wracks Mike's shoulders, and he squeezes his eyes shut tighter.

And then Will's hand is touching his, just brushing over his knuckles so lightly it almost tickles, and he's siding his hand over Mike's, pulling at it. Mike blinks his eyes open, looking at their hands. He's trembling. So is Will.

Mike raises his gaze, meeting Will's eye, and Will is crying, tears streaming silently down his cheeks.

"Say it again," he whispers brokenly.

"...I love you."

Will swallows nervously, holding Mike's hand tightly, and before Mike can say or think anything else, Will is falling toward him, wrapping his arms around his neck tightly, and Mike has the sun in his arms again. He sobs, squeezing his eyes shut, and wraps his arms around Will's middle, holding him tightly.

Will holds him for a while, his face buried in Mike's hair, and their legs tangle on the floor in front of them.

"I'm sorry," Mike says again when his crying stops, but Will pulls back, murmuring, "No, Mike, it's..."

He stammers silently for a second, and then one of his hands finds Mike's cheek, touching him almost gingerly, like he's made of thin glass. Mike's breath catches in his throat.

"I..." Will's cheeks are red. That always happens when he cries, Mike notices, every time he has flashbacks or sees lights flicker, or the time he fell asleep outside and a bug crawled across the back of his neck. But Mike doesn't get why he's crying now. Why he looked so angry, so disgusted, and now he's touching Mike's face so softly.

"I love you too."

Mike's eyes lower to Will's lips like he's trying to find the words, and his brows furrow. His hands are still on Will's waist.

"...What?"

"I-- I love you," Will says, high voice high, because he's still crying. "I thought you were joking, I thought you-- I thought you were being mean, but if you..."

"I mean it," Mike assures him, nodding desperately, looking into his eyes, his hands gripping the sweater tightly, the knit bunching in his fingers. "I really-- I mean it."

Will exhales, his shoulders falling, and then he's laughing, closing his eyes, and even through his tears, even though he's more confused than he's ever been, Mike is smiling with him. Because Will is so fucking beautiful, smiling brightly, his cheeks glistening with fallen tears. He looks like one of those paintings Mike's seen in Will's art books, those paintings that are studied and almost worshipped, painted by the best, hung on walls in museums in golden frames.

"Oh my god," Will laughs, his hand still holding the side of Mike's face. "Is this real?" he asks breathily, opening his eyes.

"Yes," Mike gasps. "Do you..."

"Holy shit," Will breathes, his eyes scanning over Mike's face like he's still trying to figure out if it's real or not. "You really like me too?"

Somehow like hits even harder. Smacks Mike across the face.

"Yeah," he breathes, nodding, and his eyes sting again. "I really like you."

"You like boys?" Will asks, his voice hushed, weak, helpless. Mike looks at him, at his glassy eyes, his rosy cheeks, and he nods.

Will's face crumbles, and his hands loosen on Mike's face to slide over his neck, and then he's hugging him again, his strong arms around Mike's neck, and Mike melts against him.

"I thought you were mad," he says weakly into Will's neck. "I thought you were disgusted, Will, I'm--"

Will's arms tighten, and Mike hears him gasp for breath.

"I'm not, I just-- I just thought you were being mean."

"I wouldn't do that," Mike says desperately, pulling away and reaching up to hold Will's face. "I wouldn't be mean to you, I'm sorry."

Will exhales shakily, closing his eyes, turning his face into Mike's palm. Mike hesitates, his heart still pounding, and he leans in, pressing their foreheads together as they breathe.

Will's hands slowly slide to Mike's neck, holding him gently. His palms are warm, warmer than his fingertips. So soft. (His face is soft too. Mike kind of just doesn't want to let go of him. Wants to stay here forever, holding him.)

Their noses brush together, and holy fuck, Mike is about to kiss a boy.

Mike is about to kiss Will fucking Byers.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs.

"Yes," Will breathes.

Mike takes a deep breath, suppressing a smile, and then he kisses him. It's a slow, lingering kiss, just the press of his lips to Will's, and Will inhales, his fingers shifting on Mike's neck, pressing into his hair. Mike tilts his head, holding his face tighter, squishing his cheeks, and Will lets out a soft noise, pressing closer.

When they part, Will leans forward, trying to catch his lips again before his eyes flutter open, and he looks like he might cry again. His cheeks are pink.

Mike pulls him into a hug. Will shudders, taking a deep breath, his arms tight around him, and Mike smiles, squeezing his eyes shut, listening to Will breathe, to the fall of the rain outside.

"I love you," he murmurs. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

Will's arms tighten around him.

"God, I love you too, Mike." He presses his face into Mike's neck. "Can I have another kiss?"

Mike's smile grows, and he pulls back, leaning in to kiss him. Will tilts his head, shifting so their legs tangle again, moving closer until their chests almost press, and it's like Mike can practically feel the heat radiating from him. (He remembers how cold felt when he came back that first year, when he was in the hospital. And how cold he needed to be when he was possessed. The heat is welcome, a comfort. Mike would let him burn him if it meant he could keep him close.)

They kiss almost lazily, slow and careful, holding each other close, and they lean against the bed together. Mike winds an arm around Will's neck, pushing his hand into his hair, and Will's arm finds Mike's waist, tugging at the fabric of his shirt, making him shift closer. Mike runs his other hand down Will's arm, over the knit of the sweater he's wearing, until he finds his hand that's resting on Mike's hip. Their fingers twist together.

Mike's lips spread into a broad grin, and Will pulls away, looking at him for a moment before he starts giggling. Mike's chest feels warm. He squeezes Will's hand tightly, kissing him again, but they're barely even kissing anymore, just giggling breathily against each other's mouths, until Will presses a hand against the small of his back, pulling, and he kisses him hard, still smiling.

His fingers tighten on Mike's, squeezing and loosening and squeezing again, and Mike runs his fingers through his hair. He's glad it's longer now.

Will's lips part after a lingering kiss, and he exhales, and Mike kisses him again, biting his lower lip tentatively, and Will's hand presses to his back harder, and their fingers tighten, and--

The door swings open, and they jump apart, startled as Nancy sticks her head in.

"Hey, I'm going to meet Robin at..."

She blinks at them, registering the way their legs are overlapped, the way Mike's arm is around Will's neck, they way they both look alarmed. Her eyes fall to their hands, still linked on Mike's leg, and Will snatches his hand away, taking a sharp breath. Nancy starts to smile, looking at Mike with wide eyes, but he reaches over, grabbing a pillow from where it's fallen off the bed, and he throws it at her.

"Go away!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!"

She leaves and shuts the door, but he knows she's grinning to herself. Mike exhales, relaxing against the bed and looking at Will, but Will is staring at the door, eyes wide, his hands now tangled in his own lap, fingers twisting anxiously. He's breathing shallowly, and Mike runs his fingers through his hair again, leaning closer.

"She isn't gonna tell anyone," he says gently, and Will looks at him, inhaling.

"Are you sure?" he asks weakly. Mike hesitates.

"Do you want me to-- to go make sure?" he asks. "I can catch her before she leaves, tell her not to."

Will hesitates, taking another breath, then nods weakly. Mike nods back, saying a soft, "Okay," before he leans in to kiss him quickly.

He runs after Nancy, leaving Will in his room. He almost slips down the stairs but catches himself on the handrail, remembering why he wasn't allowed to run in the house when he was younger (technically he still isn't but he doesn't really care). She's fixing the mirror in her car when he gets outside, and he runs to her door, hitting her window. She makes a face at him, but her voice is muffled when she asks what the hell he's doing, and he realises it's still pouring rain, and his socks are wet from the driveway, and his hair is getting soaked.

He gets in the passenger seat to talk to her.

"You won't tell anyone, right?" he asks frantically. She stares at him, wide-eyed.

"No," she says softly. "Of course not."

"Okay, just... Will got really anxious, and I don't think anyone, like, knows about him, and I don't think he's ready for people to know, so..."

"I'm not gonna tell anyone, Mikey, it's not my business."

He exhales.

"Okay."

He hesitates before holding his hand up.

"Pinky promise?"

She scoffs and hooks her pinky with his.

"Not even Robin?"

"Not even Robin. Will doesn't want anyone to know, I won't tell anyone, okay?"

"Okay." He exhales, nodding.

"What happened?" she asks, poking him. He shrugs, suppressing a smile.

"The moment... smacked me across the face," he says. "And then he thought I was messing with him and I thought he was, like, grossed out, and it was really confusing for a minute, but..." He looks at her, shrugging. "It worked out."

She beams, poking his face teasingly, and he swats her hand away, blushing.

"Okay, we can talk later," she says. "Go back to your boy, you just left him all alone."

He blushes more, reaching out and hitting her face as a goodbye, snickering as she recoils and says his name.

Will is still sitting on the floor when he gets back, his knees drawn to his chest, head on his knees. Mike pauses in the doorway, looking at how his shoulders are rising up and down with each steady, intentional breath.

"Hey," Mike says gently. Will lifts his head, still visibly anxious, but confusion flashes across his face as he looks Mike up and down, followed by amusement as Mike says, "Oh, I forgot it's still raining."

"You're soaked," Will says, laughing quietly, relaxing.

"Yeah, I got the seat in Nancy's car soaked too," Mike says, smiling. Will's hair is still touseled from Mike's hand. It looks good.

"She won't tell, right?" Will asks as Mike goes to his closet, grabbing a towel and drying his hair quickly.

"Nope," he says, dropping the towel to the ground and peeling off his uncomfortably soaked socks before he steps on the towel to dry his feet. "I made her pinky promise."

Will smiles. He watches Mike pick up the towel and his sicks, tossing them into the pile of dirty laundry by the closet, watches him pull off his shirt and grab a hoodie, pulling it on and messing up his hair.

He joins him on the floor again, sitting heavily with a sigh, letting his legs stretch out in front of himself. His sweatpants are spotted with rain, but they aren't very wet, so he doesn't bother changing them. Will is quiet.

"So..." Mike says, running his hands up and down his legs.

Will looks at him.

He doesn't say anything, instead moving closer and resting his head on Mike's shoulder. Mike's insides light up. He squeezes his eyes shut and grins as Will leans against him, curling up and hugging Mike's arm to himself.

"How long have you liked me?" Will asks quietly, sliding a hand to Mike's and lacing their fingers.

"Uhm..." Mike sighs. "I think... I think I always have," he says softly."I just... had no clue."

"When'd you realize?" Will whispers.

Mike pauses.

"California," he whispers. "In the van, when you... when you gave me the painting. I kind of realised that, like, what I felt for you was just... more than what I've ever felt for any girl. 'S why I couldn't say it to El, because I-- I do love her, just not... how I thought I did. Kinda fucked me up, but when I, like, accepted I just..." He sighs, shrugging with the shoulder that Will isn't laying on even though he can't see it. "'S nice."

Will hugs his arm tighter, pressing his face to Mike's shoulder, and Mike reaches over his lap to pull at Wll's leg. Will sets his legs over Mike's lap.

"How long have you liked me?" Mike asks, setting his hand on one of Will's knees.

"Always have," Will murmurs. Mike closes his eyes, taking a breath, and Will's hand tightens on his.

"How long have you known?"

"...Fifth grade."

Mike's eyes open, and he looks down at him even though he can't see him. His stomach flutters.

"Seriously?" he asks weakly. Will nods. Mike's eyes burn, and he lets his head fall to the bed as his lip quivers. He swallows, guilt and shame and years of repression running through his veins. Will seems to notice it, like he can feel it in his hand, and he squeezes, murmuring, "It's okay."

"I'm sorry it took me so long," Mike says, almost choking the words out. Will moves, shifting closer and closer until he's sitting between Mike's legs, hugging him, and Mike wraps his arms around him tightly, hiding his face in Will's neck.

"It's okay," Will says again. "I kind of... Like. Was cool with never acknowledging it. Because I thought there was no way that you'd like me back. And I just... I don't know." He's whispering now, his mouth just over Mike's ear. "Wanted you in my life. However I could keep you."

A whimper escapes Mike, and he's crying again as Will holds him, touching his damp hair.

"I'm sorry," Mike chokes, because he is. He's so sorry, it's pathetic. Because he didn't even know he liked Will for years, and he dated the girl that became Will's sister right in front of him while the whole time they were in love, and if Mike had just known, if he'd just noticed the way his heart beats differently when he's around him, if he'd just--

"Mikey," Will whispers, shifting to press their foreheads together. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I wasted so much time," he says weakly.

Will smiles, shaking his head and holding Mike's face in his hands.

"We're fifteen," he whispers. "We have so much time." He hesitates then leans in and kisses Mike gently. Mike closes his eyes, feeling Will's lips press to his, lingering, and he feels like he's spinning. Will touches his face when he pulls away, tracing his jaw and the freckles on his cheeks. "We have our whole lives."

Mike kisses him again, still crying, reaching to hold his neck, and Will kisses him back, holding his face, still so, so warm.

Will wipes his tears with the sleeves of the sweater, and then he kisses him again.

"You're really pretty," Will whispers against his lips, and Mike's face flushes with heat. Her looks away, suppressing a smile as his stomach flutters.

"Stop," he says half-heartedly, but Will grabs his face, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"You're pretty," he says firmly.

Mike thinks his face must be red, but he can't look away from Will's shining eyes.

"You are too," he says softly.

Will kisses him.

They stay on the floor for a while, kissing and holding each other and crying again just because they don't know what else to do with how overwhelmed they are. Will tucks his face into Mike's neck after a while, just laying against his shoulder and sighing.

"I'm so happy right now," he whispers.

Mike tightens his arms around him.

"Me too."

He closes his eyes while they talk, listening to Will breathe, feeling his breath on his neck, and he reaches down to hold his hand, twisting their fingers together.

"Should we tell people?" Will asks softly.

"Only if you want to."

Will sighs.

"I wanna tell Jonathan and Argyle," he says. "And El. Because they knew I liked you."

"Liked, past tense?"

"Shut up," Will says lightly. "You know what I mean." He presses a kiss to his jaw. "Who did you tell?"

"Nancy, Robin. Eddie. Steve." He pauses, thinking, remembering the night he whispered it to himself, said I love Will Byers out loud to himself. "My ceiling."

Will exhales sharply, laughing softly, squeezing his hand.

"Think your ceiling knows already."

Mike smiles, tilting his head back to look at it. It's an odd thought, that this ceiling has seen everything that's ever happened in here. Seen him grow, seen him cry and laugh. Seen him show El his toys, seen him pack the toys into give-away boxes. Seen him cry because he loves Will Byers. Seen him kiss him.

"He's been here through it all," he says, pretending to cry, and Will giggles into his neck.

"Should we just... tell the Party?" Will asks after a moment, still smiling. "So many people already know, I just..."

"If you want to," Mike says softly, pressing his hand into his hair again. It's so soft. Everything about Will is soft. Mike wanted to make sure he stays that way. Gentle.

"Okay," Will breathes.

He falls asleep there, his head on Mike's shoulder, playing with his fingers until his hand falls still, just cradling Mike's hand in his lap.

**********

They tell the Party at the next movie night. El spends the whole time beaming, giggling as Max and Lucas yell things like WHAT? and WHEN? HOW?. Jonathan hugs them both. Eddie might get a little teary eyed, but Mike can’t tell if he’s being silly or not.

Afterwards, Steve throws a blanket at them to share, and Mike puts his arm around him happily, excited to be able to without worry, without having to feel embarrassed or ashamed for wanting to. And Will tucks himself into Mike’s side, laying on his chest and sighing as Mike plays with his hair. When he takes Mike’s other hand, Mike suppresses a grin, watching Will lace their fingers and adjust their thumbs, and he murmurs a soft, “I hate you,” just before Will presses and cracks the joint.

“No, you don’t,” Will whispers back.

Joyce is happy when they tell her. She hugs them both, holding them and swaying and telling them that she loves them. That nothing will change that. Mike cries.

Mike doesn’t know what to expect from Hopper, who watches the whole interaction from the sidelines, arms crossed, but when Joyce steps aside, Hopper approaches Mike and grabs his shoulders. They’re almost the same height now, but he’s still just as intimidating as he was when Mike had to look up at him. He waits for the shoe to drop, for Hopper to tell him he doesn’t want him dating his son, but Hopper’s voice is softer than he expects when he says, “You know you’ve always been a part of this family, right?”

And he can’t really help it when his eyes flood with tears and he crumbles into Hopper’s arms.

He spends that night in the Byers-Hoppers’ living room, laying against Will. He doesn’t see Hopper drape a blanket over their sleeping bodies, and he doesn’t see him smile.

**********

Nancy leaves for college in early August.

She says goodbye to the Party in the basement. It’s oddly touching, how emotional everyone is saying goodbye. Dustin cries. She says goodbye to Holly just before leaving. She’s crying, telling Holly she’ll be back before she knows it, and that she has full access to her stuffies until then. That she loves her.

“More than all the stars and sand and leaves,” she says softly, and Holly nods, sniffling, her lip quivering as Nancy picks her up and holds her for a while longer.

Eddie takes her to the airport, driving her and her suitcases with Robin and Steve in his van, and Argyle and Jonathan follow in Argyle’s van with Will and Mike and El. It’s not too long a drive to the airport, just a few hours, and Mike spends most of it staring out the window, holding Will’s hand. Argyle has music playing, but Mike isn’t listening, and Will doesn’t try to talk to him except a gentle, “You okay?” after their first rest stop. (Mike just nods. Will kisses his forehead.)

Mike watches as Nancy hugs Jonathan and Argyle and Eddie and Steve and Will and El. He watches as she kisses Robin goodbye, hidden behind the doors of Eddie’s van so they’re hidden from the rest of the parking lot, and he watches as she whispers something to her, something he can’t hear. They’ve got matching rings now, simple silver bands around their index fingers.

Robin steps aside, leaning up against Steve, who wraps an arm around her as Mike steps up for his turn. He’s holding his breath, willing his eyes to stop burning, but when Nancy tilts her head and smiles, the dam breaks. He hugs her tightly, crying as she holds him.

Sometimes he forgets that she’s his big sister. But she’s swaying with him in her arms, rubbing his back, murmuring softly, and he feels awfully small now.

“I’ll be back,” she says, her head on his shoulder.

“I know,” he chokes. “I just…”

“I know.”

They hold each other for a long while, and Mike kind of really wishes he had opened up to her sooner. Even after their first no secrets conversation, he still hid. But he was hiding from it all back then, without even knowing it, hiding from himself, from the world. From Nancy.

“Gonna miss you,” he mumbles.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” she says. “Promise to write?”

“Promise.”

“Promise, promise?”

He laughs wetly and pulls back, holding up his pinky. She smiles and hooks her pinky with his, then reaches up to hold his head, pulling him to lean down and kissing his forehead.

“I love you,” she says softly.

“More than all the stars and sand and leaves,” he finishes, grinning when she gives him a look. “I said it first, I win.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You’re gonna miss it.”

She sighs heavily, still holding his pinky, and she looks down at it, at their hands together.

“Yeah, I know.”

They hug again, for a long while, until Robin says Nancy’s name gently, coming up and touching her back, murmuring that it’s time to go.

Nancy takes a deep shaky breath, kissing Mike’s head one more time before she steps back and looks into his eyes.

“Write to me,” she says firmly, and he nods. “Play with Holly, be patient with Mom, ignore Dad, be nice to yourself.”

He sniffles, nodding again and trying not to let his tears fall. She nods back, squaring her shoulders like she’s steeling herself. He can see the shine of anxiety in her eye, and he takes a deep breath. She copies.

“Okay,” she says breathily, looking around at the others, who are watching, leaning against Eddie’s van, Argyle holding Nancy’s bag for her. She reaches out to take it, looking at Robin one last time, who kisses her and whispers, “You can do anything,” softly, and then she nods again, looking around at everyone, her eyes meeting Mike’s. Mike’s vision is blurring. Will takes his hand, squeezing when he feels it trembling.

“Uh. Write me if anything happens,” Nancy says, taking another deep breath. “Uhm. I’ll be right back.”

They watch her go. Will holds onto Mike’s arm even though they’re out in the open. El is crying too, and Mike pulls her into a hug.

“She’s wearing the necklace you gave her,” he says, keeping his voice steady, and she gives him a watery smile.

“I saw.”

The drive back to Hawkins feels shorter. Mike keeps looking out the window, but now he’s holding Will’s arm, gripping his upper arm with one hand and playing with his fingers with the other as he watches the world go by. Will rests his head on Mike’s shoulder.

Jonathan and Argyle leave two weeks later, but they take Argyle’s van. They also leave from the Wheelers’ (to Ted’s significant annoyance, not that anyone cares), hugging and kissing everyone goodbye in the driveway. Will is quiet as they watch the van disappear, and Mike wraps an arm around him, holding him as he sighs.

“They’ll be back,” he says softly. He kisses the top of Will’s head.

“I know.”

They go inside.

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