Work Text:
It’s nights like these in which Mike can’t help but think of Will. Cold wind stripping away even the last trace of warmth; thick, black clouds awning the moon as rain trickles onto the rooftop, and the mere idea that Vecna might still be alive out there, somewhere.
He knows how Will gets, the cold brings back memories, and certainly not good ones. As kids, these nights would be spent in one of two ways, if they were allowed to sleepover they’d stay up all night, laying on Will’s bed, whispering about comics and D&D until the sun came up or their eyelids got heavy; if they weren’t allowed to, these nights would be entertained by Mike calling Will through his walkie talkie until one of them fell asleep and stopped replying (usually Will.)
Tonight is lonely, Mike can feel it, and it’s probably far colder in the basement where Will is staying.
He wonders if the rain falls hard enough to be audible down there, he wonders if the sound of it is comforting to Will.
He shifts in his bed, dragging his concern for the other.
If they were still kids, Mike wouldn’t hesitate to go down there and check up on Will, he probably wouldn’t even be in the basement to begin with, he’d be staying with Mike.
But Will insisted they let him take the basement alongside Jonathan, maybe he knew his brother would be sneaking off with Nancy and wanted a place all to himself, but Mike’s got a hunch that there was more to it.
Regardless, it’s cold and—despite the recent distance between them, which began even before he and Jane broke up—Mike knows Will better than anyone, and he knows how he gets when it’s cold and he should probably-
He stops himself, how would he even go about it? I mean, the basement door is really creaky and that would probably scare the living shit out of Will, and they haven’t been talking, not even during the day, so he’d probably get all awkward if he were to…
The idea had been brewing for a while now (before today actually, before it even got cold), berating him, nagging at his thoughts.
He really wasn’t planning on giving in, but tonight is different from the rest, tonight is a frantic composition of worry and desperation, all concentrated on a singular boy.
And god, does Mike know how incriminating this all is.
I mean, no sane man breaks up with his girlfriend only to fantasise about comforting her brother at night, finding excuses to sneak into the basement with him, yet never actually doing it.
Because he knows the implications of it, his father reads the newspaper and the AIDS epidemic has gone unconcealed by the media. And he knows Will would be uncomfortable, or worse, hate him if he ever found out.
Despite all, his intentions aren’t bad, Will can’t stand the cold, he needs company whenever it gets like this.
And before he has the chance to chicken out and change his mind like all the other nights, Mike’s sneakily leaving his room, holding the handle all the way down as he opens and closes the door, strategically avoiding the usual click.
Remembering which steps creak and which ones don’t, making sure to tread over the silent ones only.
Downstairs is dark and mostly quiet—save for the rain, pattering on the driveway—making him feel somewhat nostalgic, which in turn makes him more nervous than before as he makes his way through the living room then right outside the basement door.
And holding his breath, he knocks. A gentle knock, as to not wake Will up if he happens to be asleep.
He counts the seconds, still not breathing.
One, the rain falls, two, he fixes his hair a little, three, he wonders if he should leave, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, he tries to escape, but his body is frozen in place, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, his body begs him to breathe, twenty, his heartbeat is so loud he can no longer hear the rain, twenty one- the door handle turns, the door creaking open, revealing a half-asleep Will Byers.
God, does Mike regret it now, he feels a wave of panic rush through his body, takes a deep breath, then Will speaks.
“Mike?” He asks, rubbing his eyes, then stopping abruptly, as if having just processed the situation, confusion peeking from behind his drowsiness.
“Hi” Mike’s voice cracks, he clears his throat before speaking again but just when he’s about to, Will does.
“What’re you doing here? It’s like, the middle of the night.” Will asks, letting Mike into the basement.
“It’s uh, it’s really cold, and I, uh, I thought you might appreciate some company.” He says, and it’s only half the truth.
Will smiles a little, Mike’s not sure he means to, it’s the kind of smile where you don’t realise you’re smiling, a subconscious one.
“I mean, I know how you get when it’s cold, so I guess I was worried about you” he adds, unnecessarily.
Will just nods “We haven’t had a proper conversation in a little over two weeks and suddenly you’re worried about me?” He says it like he means it but Mike’s not sure whether it’s meant to be a joke or not, and if it isn’t, he has no idea what to say to him, because yeah, he has been avoiding Will for the past two weeks or so, but not for the reason he might think.
It’s just, Will is so beautiful and lovely and perfect and Mike can’t stop thinking about his lips and if anyone, especially Will, were to find out about this, he’d be completely and utterly fucked.
But here he is tonight I suppose, he’s not even sure what he’s here for, he just wants Will to feel okay, and he knows that won’t happen if he’s alone in here…okay maybe it’s a little more selfish than that, and maybe all his efforts to avoid Will, to keep this secret buried deep enough for no one to ever find out are going to waste this very second, but it’s way past the point of no return.
“Look I’m sorry, but please let me stay with you tonight, I just want to make sure you’re alright.”
And Will looks distraught, and not just that, he looks sad, and Mike’s not sure if this is his doing or not but he can’t stand to see this look in Will’s eyes.
“You can go back to sleep, just let me stay here, I’ll sleep in Jonathan’s mattress if you want.” And, to Mike’s surprise, the other shakes his head.
“I uh, I would appreciate your company, and I don’t mind, you know…sharing a bed and all, like when we were kids.” And Mike nods, doing his best attempt at hiding all the giddiness bubbling up inside of him.
And they turn the lights off and the heater on and get into bed, and Will’s right, it is just like how it was when they were kids, except for one tiny detail that Mike’s been trying to avoid thinking of for the past seven minutes; Will is closer to him than usual, and he can feel the boy’s breath, hot and heavy against his neck, and it is driving him insane.
“Are you sure you’re okay with us sharing?” He asks, sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead, and he’s scared it’ll reach his neck, where Will is, because he doesn’t want Will to move, not yet at least.
“Mhm” Will answers, and Mike can feel him inch closer to him, nose pressed against his nape, prompting goosebumps out of him.
And the situation is so delicate, and Mike is well aware that the slightest movement from him could shatter this moment—this entire friendship—within mere seconds.
Mike’s not stupid, no straight man lays with his nose pressed against his best friend’s neck completely unprompted, but it’s different because it’s Will, and Will’s always been somewhat delicate, especially after the upside down, and if ignoring clear signs is what it takes to keep him close, then he’s willing to.
But his heart’s beating faster than the earlier thumping of the rain on the driveway, and he’s so nervous he can feel the sweat droplets gather on the base of his skull and neck, and he’s scared, scared that Will can somehow read his mind, that he’s doing this to mess with him, to expose him, mock him.
But at the end of the day it’s just Will, who is the sweetest, most considerate boy Mike’s ever met, cuddled up to him, probably out of fear, because Vecna’s out there, and Mike’s being selfish. This fear of his, so deeply rooted in his own fear, is alien to whatever it is Will is going through right now.
So for the second time tonight he does something he never thought he’d do.
Mike shifts his weight, his entire nervous system retaliating against it, and suddenly he’s face to face with the man he loves.
Nose pressed against foreign nose, synced heartbeats begging for even a hint of reciprocation, a sign, anything.
But this in itself counts as a sign, and Mike is too much of a coward to make the next move, so he waits for Will.
Each second that passes seems to taunt him, breathing in another’s breath instead of oxygen.
Each gasp for air has lived an entire life of its own, and before he can process it their lips intertwine, desire woven into saliva, tongues soaked in a million unsaid words, spilling quietly onto one another, then they freeze, then there is silence.
An unbearably loud silence, the frequency of guilt and fear and all the “what ifs” ringing in Mike’s ears.
And Will is crying, and Mike doesn’t realise it right away but he is too.