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“Mike, just relax,” Nancy muttered, squeezing his knee. “We’ve done this a million times.”
Mike shut his eyes tight, grasping the comforter of his bed. He sat in his gray boxers, Nancy holding the needle with his weekly dose of Testosterone an inch away from his thigh. “I know. Just do it.”
“You’re usually fine. You know it’ll hurt more if you tense up.” Nancy didn’t count exasperated, just concerned. She pulled away the needle. “What’s up?”
Mike sighed. “It’s just… the new school I guess. You know Indiana isn’t exactly… progressive.” He grimaced. “I really don’t want to get hate crimed. Or something.”
Nancy gave him a sympathetic look. “We’ve been here what, three months already?” She smiled. “You’ve been okay so far, right?”
“Yeah-” Mike nodded. “No one knows. Yet. Or at least I don’t think anyone does. And that gym exception is great too.” He sighed. “I don’t know.”
“You have your friend Will, right? He's nice.” Nancy said offhandedly. “He seems not-bigoted.”
Mike laughed. The thought of Will perked him up a bit. “Yeah. I don’t think… he’s cool. I’m going over to his place a little later this afternoon.” It was a Saturday.
Nancy grinned. “See? You have friends.”
Mike snorted. “Dustin cares more about science and his girlfriend than us, and Lucas is all wrapped up in basketball. I really don’t get that one.” He shook his head. “But Will… he…” Mike trailed off, stomach fluttering. “Well, his big brother’s cool and his mom’s the sweetest.” He shook his head, relaxing a bit. “Okay. Shoot me with your best shot, Nance.”
Nancy grinned and pressed the needle into his thigh.
Mike was struggling. The long sleeve denim shirt and chinos, or his regular gray hoodie and green-gray cargo pants? Option two concealed his chest and thighs better, but option one looked nicer. He sighed and stared at himself in the mirror. He was tall and decently slim but he had thick thighs, a soft stomach, and awful hip dips that would just be the death of him. He knew no one else probably noticed it, but he did.
I grieve in stereo, the stereo sounds strange. I know that if you hide, it doesn't go away- Little Dark Age by MGMT filtered through Mike’s earbuds. They were wired black ones he’d bought at a drugstore- they were cheap. He didn’t care.
If you get out of bed and find me standing all alone, open-eyed, burn the page, my little dark age-
Mike adjusted his binder straps and pulled the waistline of his deep gray boxer briefs higher up his hips. He stared at the two outfits laid out on his bed, and mentally chose the hoodie/cargo pants option. He didn’t want to deal with his nightmarish dysphoria today.
Giddy with delight, seeing what’s to come. Mike pulled on a gray t-shirt and said hoodie. The image of the dead, dead ends in my mind.
His phone binged, interrupting his music, and Mike sighed and pulled it from his pocket. As soon as he noticed it was Will, he immediately brightened.
will:)
11:43 AM
We’re still on for today, right?
Mike smiled and typed a response.
11:44 AM
of course- just about to leave my plaec :)
**place
jesus chris
**christ
will:)
11:46 AM
Mike.
Your grammar is horrendous.
11:47 AM
its rlly not
your just stuipdly good at texting
****STUPIDLY
will :)
11:48
** You’re
Whatever, Michael
I’ll see you soon :))
Mike grinned and clicked off his phone, a warm feeling burning in his stomach.
He took the stairs two at a time. “Michael, where are you headed?” His mother questioned from the kitchen, eyebrows raised. Mike wouldn’t admit it, but he loved it when she called him Micheal. Karen hadn’t been the best at adjusting to Mike’s transition, but it would’ve been a million times worse if she hadn’t divorced Ted when Mike was eleven, just a year before Mike came out.
She was better now, at using his pronouns. Maybe it had something to do with the testosterone- but Mike hated that she only saw him as her son once he had gotten on hormones. He hated that.
It made him feel inadequate.
Mike began pulling on the gray converse he’d bought the week before. “I’m going over to Will’s.”
Karen smiled, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “Oh, you know how much I like that boy. Tell his mom I say hello, and remember to be polite.”
Mike remembered Will mentioning something about Joyce being out that day, but he didn’t mention it. “I will.”
And he was out the door, kicking up the kickstand and jumping on his thin-framed blue bike. He pedaled down the driveway and onto the street, taking the newly familiar route to the Hopper-Byers humble abode.
It only took eight minutes.
Eight minutes of his calves burning and trying to pry his hoodie away from really outlining his chest because fuck, he hated when the autumn wind did that.
He pulled up in front of the house- it was white, with Spanish-style roofing- something you didn’t see often in Hawkins. Mike checked his hair in a nearby car’s window. He had a mullet- which he hadn’t felt exactly comfortable with until the spring of the year before, when he’d started HRT. That’s when he’d started growing his hair out again- he liked the way it was dark and soft, and how it curled around his neck.
He knocked on the door, heart beating a little too fast for his liking. Will’s brother Jonathan opened the door, thirty seconds of mild panicking (what if he isn’t home? what if he blew off me? what if in reality he’s super transphobic- ) later.
“Hey,” Jonathan grinned. “Good to see you, Mike-” Mike hadn’t had very many conversations with Jonathan, but knew that he went to a nearby community college and was home a lot of the time.
“Good to see you too.” Mike nodded at him and stepped inside. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m doing pretty good, you?” Jonathan asked, setting down the book he was reading- The Shining by Stephen King.
“Decent,” Mike nodded, and Jonathan smiled at him again, something funny in the way his eyes twinkled.
“You can head back to Will’s room if you-”
“Jon, do you know where-” said Will Byers came out in a hurry, stopping in his tracks when he saw Mike. “Oh. Mike.” Will was wearing nothing but an oversized The Cure t-shirt (black, with the illuminated green face of Robert Smith wearing red lipstick and purple glasses. the bottom was bordered with words in french, and Mike gathered that it was an old tour shirt from the 80’s.) and black boxer briefs.
Mike’s eyes flicked down to Will’s tan, muscled thighs and back up to his face, feeling a mix of jealousy at Will’s blatant masculinity and violent butterflies in his gut.
Will had gone bright red and began to back up, looking almost panicked. “Sorry- I- Sorry. Uh, give a second.” And he was gone in a flash, right back down the hallway.
Jonathan snicked from where he’d sat back down on the couch. “That was embarrassing for him.”
Mike pressed his lips together, trying to keep his laughter in. “Yep,” He said, feeling weirdly giddy. “Super embarrassing.” Kind of hot too.
There was a thick silence, where the weird twinkly look in Jonathan’s eyes just grew. “His favorite flower’s a carnation.”
Mike’s head snapped up. “What?” His voice broke embarrassingly at the end. Fuck testosterone.
Jonathan chuckled, putting his hands up. “Y’know. The ones with all the layers? He likes them in yellow best.”
“I know what carnations are.” Mike’s eye twitched, a warm blush creeping up his neck. “But what exactly are you implying?”
Jonathan just shrugged, looking back down at his Stephen King. “Whatever you want to think I’m implying.”
“Well-”
“Mike.” Will interrupted him from where he’d emerged from the hall, wearing a grayish-green flannel open to a white shirt and pale blue jeans. He looked flustered, his brown hair ruffled and his cheeks stained a rosy pink. God, he looked good. “Sorry- sorry about before. You can come with me now.”
Mike nodded, stepping forward. “Don’t worry about it. It’s totally fine.” He tried a smile and Will sent a shaky one back.
“C’mon. I got a new album I want to show you,” Will turned away and began down the hall.
Mike grinned and followed him, shooting his brother a glare over his shoulder. Jonathan just smirked.
Once they’d entered the room, Will dropped to his knees in front of his shelf of vinyl. His room was yellow. Well, the walls were, at least. They were mustard-y, a color most people would find gross, but apparently Will loved it. Mike remembered him saying it reminded him of gold. Said walls were covered in old music posters and paintings he’d done. His laptop was open to some sort of Biology homework on his bed, and his old-fashioned desk was piled with art supplies. A new watercolor sat drying in the center of the desk, a mountain scene. And, something Mike had noticed the first time he’d come over, a small pride flag planted in an old tomato sauce can Will used for pencils.
Will was gay. That had been established within a week of knowing each other, but Mike hadn’t ever mentioned his own sexuality. He didn’t even know if Will knew Mike wasn’t a cis dude - and that worried him. What if Will was one of those transphobic gay guys who still thought trans people were inferior? He hoped not.
“Bronski Beat.” Will said triumphantly, holding up the vinyl. The album art featured a black square covering most of the cover, lined in pink and yellow. Red, blue and orange shapes were centered in the middle. The text, which was white and slightly translucent, read Age of Consent. “It’s synth-y, 80’s dance music, kind of like Pet Shop Boys if you added in some New Order.” Will looked back down at the cover. “It’s not the kind of music I always listen to, but it’s really good. And I thought you’d like it.” Will was blushing a little.
Mike grinned. “Bet.” He motioned towards Will’s turntable. “Play it.”
Will nodded and stood to access said record player, which sat on top of his short vinyl shelf. He pulled the vinyl carefully from its sleeve, lining it up and dropping the needle down on the first song.
Tell me why- Tell me why-
The song filtered through the room and Mike felt his foot begin to tap to the beat from where he sat on Will’s comforter. Will joined him on the bed.
Contempt in your eyes, when I turn to kiss his lips-
Mike felt his eyebrows raise. And Will turned to him with a grin. “Oh, and they’re totally gay,” He said as the music continued to pump into the room.
“Yeah.” Mike laughed, a shiver going up his spine at the normal-ness of this conversation. “I gathered.”
The band was good. Like, so good Mike wanted to buy the vinyl himself- or just steal Will’s, even though he hadn’t yet saved up enough money to purchase a turntable. So he troubleshooted, and added half the album to his newest Spotify playlist. Which, according to Will, was a relief because “oh, thank god you’re not an apple music user-”
The afternoon was fun. Like, really fun. They listened to Will’s massive vinyl collection, which contained mostly 70’s-80’s new wave, post punk and rock- Bowie, Queen, The Cure, New Order, A Flock of Seagulls, and, to Mike’s surprise and delight, MGMT’s Oracular Spectacular.
Mike watched Will paint for a while, and they talked about fantasy novels and sci-fi movies and comic books. Not once did the uncomfortable topic of gender come up, which Mike was always grateful for.
“Okay, but hear me out,” Mike spread his arms wide. He was spinning lazily in Will’s desk chair. “Neverending Story.”
Will grinned. “That movie was my childhood- Jonathan was so confused why I always wanted to watch it, but Jesus, it was so eerie.” He looked down slightly. “I loved the dragon.”
Mike stared at him. “Who didn’t love the dragon?” He asked incredulously. “But hear me out even more-” He paused dramatically. “The Labyrinth.”
Will gasped. “Bowie, my actual lord and savior,” He collapsed back on his comforter, clutching at his chest.
Mike felt himself giggle. Like actually giggle. How un-masculine of you, Michael, he scolded himself. “Hot.” He giggled again.
Will’s eyes rolled back in his head and he clenched the sheets dramatically. “That spandex suit-” He sighed. “So hot.”
Mike knew he was just fucking around, but couldn’t help the way his cheeks warmed up. He brought his legs to his chest, spinning around aimlessly on the chair. “Those movies are so in the same vein.”
“The Dark Crystal, too.” Will added.
Mike nodded. “Y’know, I never actually saw that movie. I just watched the documentary on how they made the puppets on Netflix.”
Will gasped. “We gotta watch that together.”
“Please.” Mike fell back next to Will on the bed, close but not too close. “Why are old movies so much better?” Mike asked. “I mean, they're so much better produced. And, like, bad CGI was so much more entertaining, y’know? You never get the same feel from new movies. Bad CGI now just looks cheap. And like, anything directed by John Huges is a masterpiece. Plus the clothes? And the hair? Dude, like-” Mike stopped himself, realizing he’d been totally spiraling out of control.
Will got this awful grin on his face. “What, are you into the 80’s aesthetic, Mike?” He launched forward, tasering Mike’s gut with his fingers. “Are you aestheticizing a decade, Michael?” He asked, beginning to tickle Mike’s sides.
Mike shrieked with laughter. “No! No! Modern stuff just- stop- modern movies just suck! And I- Fuck…!” He’d tumbled to the side, and without realizing it, pulled them both off the bed. They landed with a thump, and Mike groaned. His head ached now, and- oh.
Will was on top of him, on all fours, straddling his waist. He looked down at Mike with a slightly open mouth and wide eyes. His cheeks were flushed, and Mike found himself wanting to kiss that one mole on his neck, near his adam's apple, and literally shut up, you’re a fucking idiot.
But Will was leaning closer, breath warm and making Mike’s stomach all fluttery.
“Mike, I-” Will started, but was interrupted by a pounding knocking on the door. Will quickly rolled off Mike, sitting up against the mattress. Mike fixed his hair as best he could, willing the blush of his cheeks.
“Will!” The door was thrown open. It was Jane, Will’s little sister- by about a month, they were step siblings. She was wearing a loose purple jumpsuit with the tag still clipped to the collar. She’d just gotten back from the mall. “Oh, hey Mike.” She shot him a grin.
“Jesus, Jane, don’t just barge in here-” Will muttered.
“Sorry,” Jane just shrugged. “Me and Jonathan are gonna play nintendo- you guys want to join?”
Will shook his head, giving Mike a glance. “Nah, I think we’re good- thanks for offering though.”
“I bought Reese's Pieces,” Jane bribed, raising her eyebrows in invitation.
Will groaned. “Fine.”
So the four of them were roped into playing Mario-Kart for approximately half an hour, Will completely content with his family sized bag of Reese’s. Mike beat the rest of them four times, and for the first time he was grateful for his little sister Holly’s intent on playing the game every other evening. After a while Jane got bored and forced them to watch her play Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild.
Eventually, Will and Mike got away, wandering back into Will's room. Will put on a Cigarettes after Sex album- apparently one of the only more modern pop bands he owned the music of (along with Sufjan Stevens).
(sunsets, we wander through a foreign town. Strangely, there's nobody else around)
“I’m tired.” Mike whined, flopping back against Will’s bedsheets. He smoothed out the front of his hoodie, wincing slightly as his fingers brushed his aching ribs. Motherfucking binder.
Will laid down next to him and Mike froze a bit. Will was much too close for comfort.
(and when you go away, I still see you. The sunlight on your face in my rearview)
Mike turned his head slightly, surprised to see Will already staring at him.
( sunsets, I wanna hear your voice)
Mike swallowed thickly. Will was looking at him with those eyes- and- and- oh jesus, he was too pretty. “Hi.” Mike whispered, like the idiot he was.
“Hey,” Will smiled, bringing a hand up between them to brush a strand of hair from Mike’s face. Mike froze, shivering violently. His heart thudded in his chest, seconds away from exploding.
( a love that nobody could destroy)
“Do you. Uh.” Mike started, not knowing where he was going with that. Will was drifting closer. They lapsed into silence, Mike forgetting about his aching ribs or the fact that Will’s family was right down the hall. Fuck that.
“Do I what?”
(this always happens to me this way, recurring visions of such sweet days-)
“Nevermind.” Mike closed his eyes, inhaling. Everything smelled like Will, and although they’d only known each other for three months, it was as familiar as his own home. It made him feel settled, comfortable.
“You know, earlier? Before Mario-Kart?” Will asked.
“Mhm.” Mike opened his eyes. “80’s aesthetic,” he practically prompted Will.
Will grinned. “Exactly. So. I was gonna do something. Uh.” His smile dropped. “I wanted to do something.”
(and when you go away-)
Mike furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”
Will’s next words were soft spoken, nervous. “I wanted to kiss you.”
(I still see you)
Mike’s eyes widened significantly. “Why?”
(the sunlight on your face)
“Because I- I think I like you. A lot.” Will whispered, cheeks flushed.
Mike’s whole being froze up significantly. Oh. oh. Oh oh oh. Fuck. “But-” he cut himself off, and then began again. “But I’m trans.”
(in my rearview)
Will’s eyebrows furrowed, and for a split second Mike stopped breathing. What if- what if he decided he thought Mike was gross, or- or- changed his mind- or-
“I know.” Will said. “But you're a boy, right? And I’m gay. So why does that change things?”
Oh.
Mike was flooded with relief. He felt like bursting, exploding for the second time that night, he felt like screaming. His lips twitched up in a smile. “I’m supposed to tell people that. If I want to date them. Because they might change their mind about wanting to be with me.” He looked down, momentarily ashamed.
Will frowned. “That’s dumb.”
Mike laughed a little, feeling almost giddy again. “Yeah. I guess.”
“You want to date me?” Will asked a moment later, cheeks red.
Mike grinned. “Wasn’t that obvious? Yes.” He giggled again. “Oh my god- I never thought you’d- Oh my god.” He hid his burning face in his hands. “Sorry.” He mumbled.
“Don’t apologize.” Will took his wrist, tugging it down away from his face. Mike’s skin burned where he touched him. A good burn. “You shouldn’t have to feel like, obligated to say anything.”
Mike snorted. “Yeah, but most people want sex. And not with people like me.”
Will went a soft pink. “Sex shouldn’t be all anyone cares about.” He put a soft hand on Mike’s cheek. “I guess I just wish you didn’t have to say anything. I don’t care.”
“Cool.” Mike felt his mouth split into a summery smile, giddy. “Cool,” he breathed again, and then, without thinking too much, launched forward to wrap Will in a hug. Will laughed and wrapped his arms around Mike’s waist, holding him tight. He was strong, Mike thought.
“I’m so glad you moved here.”
“I am too,” Mike muttered into the shoulder of Will’s flannel. For once, I really, really am. Will pulled away slightly, pressing their foreheads together. It was more intimate than anything Mike had ever experienced. His eyes flicked down to Will’s lips. “Can I kiss you?” He said suddenly. “Is that okay?” He was blushing. “I really want to kiss you.”
“Yes. Kiss me.” Will breathed, and Mike decided he liked Will’s voice. A lot. “Please.”
Mike leaned forward tentatively, pressing their lips together, and oh, oh god, that was good. He pressed forward closer, and Will wrapped his arms tight around Mike’s shoulders, and they were so close, and nothing mattered. Not Mike’s creeping anxiety, not the way his chest ached, not how much he talked, not all those assholes at school. Not anything.
They pulled away slightly, still hugging tightly, and Mike buried his head in Will’s shoulder again. “That was good,” Mike breathed, cheeks hot.
Will’s fingers buried themselves in Mike’s hoodie. “Really good.” He whispered.
“I’m not as hot as Bowie,” Mike blurted, going red in the face because what the fuck? “Or Johnny Depp in Nightmare on Elm Street, or Timothee Chalamet, or- or-”
“Shut up,” Will laughed. They were still pressed closer than Mike’s heart could take. “You literally have the Timothee Chalamet cheekbones, and your hair is better than his,” He pronounced “Chalamet ” as Sha-la-la-met, and Mike shrieked with laughter, pulling away.
“You did not!” Mike fell back onto the sheets. “Disrespect, dude.”
“I just said you looked like him! Mr. Sha-la-la-met is my type!”
Mike grinned, flushing a bit. “Good. So I am your type.”
“A trillion percent. Now.” Will looked at him with a slightly concerned half smile. “How long have you been wearing your binder?”
Mike drew away, mildly horrified. “No, you are not doing this right now.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, actually, I am.”
“Like, six hours. I’m fine.” Mike drew his arms across his chest, but something affectionate burned inside him. He cares. And he doesn’t feel awkward talking about this stuff.
“You got here at twelve.” Will said dryly. “It’s seven thirty now. That’s gotta be over eight.” He pointed to the door. “Go borrow something from Jonathan, and then text your mom. You’re sleeping over.”
“I am?” Mike said, flustered.
“Yep.” Will grinned at him. “Go. Jonathan’s room.”
“What do you mean, borrow something from Jonathan?” Mike asked.
“Just go.” Will gave Mike a small kiss on the mouth.
Mike shook his head but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face as he made his way to Jonathan’s room. He knocked on the door, nervously. What the fuck was he even being sent to do?
Jonathan opened the door with a smile. “Mike,” He nodded at him. “How can I help you?” His room smiled mildly of weed.
Mike looked at his feet, embarrassed. “Will said I should… borrow something from you. He really didn’t give me any context.”
“Borrow? Like a joint?” Jonathan asked, looking confused. “Cause I already told him, I’m like mega low right now, and-” He noticed the embarrassed look on Mike’s face and the way that he straightened his hoodie, and something seemed to dawn on him. “Oh. Yeah, of course, bud.” He smiled, almost brotherly. “Gimme a sec.”
Mike stood, confused, as Jonathan began to sort through his top drawer. He pulled out something and tossed it to Mike. “That should fit- you can use the bathroom down the hall to change. Tell me if you need a smaller size.”
It was a sports bra.
Oh. That made sense, actually. Mike was learning lots of new things today.
“You’re…?” Mike trailed off, subconsciously balling the fabric in one hand.
Jonathan nodded. “Yep. Scheduled for top surgery in… five months?”
Mike grinned, feeling a surge of rightness in this house. “Nice, dude!” He held out a hand for a high-five and Jonathan slapped it. “God, I haven’t interacted with anybody else like me, in, like, a decade.” He groaned good-naturedly, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
“Yeah, Hawkins is particularly lacking in the queer sort,” Jonathan said, distaste apparent in his tone.
“God, yeah.” Mike looked down at the fabric in his hands and then back up at Jonathan. “Thank you.” He said softly.
“Of course.” Jonathan said, smiling crookedly. “If you need anything, even if you just need to chat man to man or whatever, I’m here.”
Mike thought if he wasn’t so self conscious about it, he might start to cry right now. “Thanks, Jonathan. So much.”
“Of course. And Mike?” Jonathan grinned.
“Yeah?”
“Carnations.”
“Fuck you!”