Archive of Our Own

In his defence, Will really wasn’t trying to test his fate.

He spent his entire childhood reading superhero comics, and he knows that there are certain rules that these stories adhere to. Saying that there is “nothing left to surprise you” is, in comic book rules, the surest way to jinx yourself. Then again, actually being a superhero does sort of get you to forget that. Especially when you have a whole additional sense to warn you about any possible surprises. 

It’s not a vanity thing, really. It’s just that, once life has hurled an actual truck at you, it’s easy to assume that there’s little else it could throw your way and still catch you off guard. 

And yet, here he is.

An upbeat Christmas tune plays through the speakers of the coffee shop, but Will is too busy deciphering Dustin’s handwriting to even take notice of the holiday spirit. The fact that he copied most of this year’s chemistry homework is finally starting to catch up to him– and though he is no stranger to learning months’ worth of material in a week, it’s not as easy to do when you’ve only gotten three hours of sleep. Not to mention how unkind this past day has been to his back; the entire night spent on the move, and the entire morning hunched over a table. 

Something cracks loudly as he leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. Mike, who had been tapping his pen against a blank page for the past two minutes, abruptly stops. He blinks once. Twice. Then, just as Will is about to check if he’s having a stroke, he asks:

“How did you know that you’re into guys?”

The question stops Will in his tracks. Even Dustin looks up from his textbook, officially intrigued. Mike, for his part, looks as though he didn’t actually mean to ask that, but is now committing to it all the same. He shifts a little under Will’s puzzled gaze.

See, Will Byers doesn’t keep a great many secrets. 

After all, for most of his life, he had no reason to do so. His friend group has always placed an emphasis on the importance of honesty, and his older brother has consistently made sure he knows that he can share anything with him, and that he should never have to hide any parts of who he is. But the two secrets that Will does keep, he keeps with a great amount of care.

His second secret (because although it is arguably the more serious one, it did come around later in life; and therefore it’s only second) is that he is Spider-Man. Has been ever since he got bitten by a radioactive spider during a school field trip, two years ago. Dustin is the only one who knows– and though Will would like nothing more than to share it with the rest of his friends, he is aware of the danger that could place them in, so he doesn’t.

His first secret (the one that he has kept safe for years now; like how you keep an old cinema ticket to your favourite movie) is that he is stupidly, irreparably in love with Mike Wheeler.

He’d like to say that he has tried to get over it– because he knows that, in theory, that is the healthy way of dealing with unrequited love. But the truth is that most of the time, Will likes being in love with Mike. And it isn’t a feeling that he wants to give up, hopeless as it is. Maybe because to him, Mike has always been ridiculously easy to love. Maybe because of the way Mike has always stuck by his side. Or maybe because even back when Will’s dad still had an influence over him, and Will thought that there really might be something wrong with liking boys, loving Mike had still felt right.

And the way that Mike loves him in turn– even if it will never be romantic– makes Will like himself a bit better, too.

Dustin and Jonathan are the only ones Will has ever told about it. He has no desire to ever expand that list.

“I'm not sure. It was a lot of little things,” he responds, once the initial confusion fades. “I think… I mean, having a crush was probably a good clue.”

Considering that he can’t tell the full truth– which is that he has been in love with Mike since they were twelve years old, and consequentially realised that he likes boys– he thinks his answer is pretty decent. Mike does not seem to agree. His eyes widen, as though the idea of Will having a crush is something entirely new and foreign. 

And in truth, maybe it is, even to Will himself. He has been in love with Mike for so long, he isn’t sure he even remembers what a casual, schoolyard crush should feel like.

“You had a crush?” Mike asks, incredulous. “Why don’t I know about this?”

Dustin rolls his eyes, and goes back to his textbook. Will shrugs. He looks down at his own book, and begins to sketch in its margins– if only to have an excuse for not meeting Mike’s eyes. They have a tendency to see right through him.

“I don’t have to share everything with you,” he says. Although he means it as a joke, he can already tell that it was the wrong thing to say. Mike is openly frowning now, somehow deeply offended by this sentiment.

“I share everything with you,” he protests.

“No, you complain to me about everything,” Will corrects him, patiently. “That’s different.”

Mike’s frown deepens.

“Do you still have a crush?”

“Why does that matter?” Will asks– because friends don’t lie, but friends also don’t always have to tell the entire truth, either. Especially if the said truth is really embarrassing, and would send them to an early grave. Which would be really, really bad, by the way, because Will has a whole lot of people counting on him now.

“He’s dodging the question,” Lucas says, appearing at their table. There is an empty tray under his arm, and a blue apron tied around his waist. He got a job as a part-time coffee shop barista two months ago, which is why it became a hangout spot for the Party in the first place. It does also help that the place is nice, while still relatively cheap. Even if it doesn't have very comfortable chairs.

“Wait,” says Mike, his eyes still narrowed. “Are you dating this guy? Is that why you’ve been so weird lately?”

“I’m not being weird,” Will says. If anything, he thinks, it’s the other way around.

“You are,” Mike insists. He emphasises his point with a wide gesticulation, and Lucas has to literally duck in order to avoid Mike’s arms spilling coffee all over. “You are. You’re barely ever here, you keep disappearing, you give the lamest excuses–”

“We weren’t talking about me,” Will reminds him, a little desperately. 

“What were you talking about?” Lucas asks, leaning against the back of Mike’s chair. 

Suddenly, Dustin looks all too happy to rejoin the conversation.

“Mike wants to know how Will knew that he likes guys.”

Lucas raises an eyebrow, but otherwise stays quiet. He doesn’t really need to say anything, either way. They’re all clearly thinking the same thought, and simply don’t want to speak it out loud. Mike might get spooked if they do. 

“Right,” Mike says, as though suddenly remembering his predicament. He twirls his mug in his hands, and watches the steam rise. “Right. So. How would I know?”

The change in the wording makes them all pause. Probably so that they can comprehend it. And maybe so that they can give Mike a chance to rephrase it. “How would you know what?” Will asks, just to check. Just to make sure he isn’t misunderstanding something very crucial. But the way Mike glances at his coffee and then back at him, nervously catching his breath, makes the possibility of it being an accident seem more and more far-fetched every second.

“If I– I don’t know,” he says. “Have a crush on a guy, I guess.”

Silence again– though this time it doesn’t last very long, thanks to Dustin’s excitement.

“Holy shit, dude,” he says, “Is this about your Spider-Man encounter?”

Will’s head snaps to him almost comically fast– and the fact that he can’t be too obvious is just about the only thing stopping him from glaring at his friend with all the might he has. Not that his discretion matters, anyways, since both Lucas and Dustin are so busy looking at Mike– who is, in turn, busy looking anywhere other than one of them.

Mike’s Spider-Man encounter. Right. 

Sans Dustin, Will doesn’t usually interact with his friends while in his Spider Suit. At least, not if he can help it. But if one of them was ever predestined to find themselves in a life-or-death sort of situation, it was probably always going to be Mike. Fortunately for Will, it really wasn’t much of an interaction, since the whole thing mostly consisted of him focusing on getting Mike to safety, and Mike shouting a creative selection of profanities while clinging to him like his life depended on it.

Which, to be fair, it sort of did.

“Maybe,” Mike says, and Will honestly can’t tell whether or not he’s telling the truth, or only using the excuse Dustin has so generously offered for the sake of tormenting Will, specifically. “If I said yes, would you answer my question?”

This last part, Will realises with a late start, is directed towards him. He frowns, wondering how to approach this.

“Well, what did you… feel like?”

Mike shrugs, face scrunched as he thinks about it. At last, he settles on:

“I don’t know. Flustered.”

Will feels his face heat up. The thought that he could make Mike feel flustered, even if it was only as Spider-Man, is stupidly flattering. And silly, honestly. You’d think that he’d build up some sort of immunity to these butterflies, over time. 

“Flustered,” Dustin echoes, incredulous.

“Yes, Dustin, flustered,” Mike repeats, impatient, and clearly not too happy with how this conversation is going.  “But that’s normal, right? You can get a little nervous around other guys. Or like, think about them… holding you. That’s normal.”

Will doesn’t say anything. He has dealt with aliens and alternate dimensions– but this, somehow, feels a little out of his league. And anyway, Will thinks Mike might be his own target audience, as far as this particular tangent goes. It certainly does sound more like he’s trying to convince himself, rather than anyone else. 

“It is normal,” Dustin says, as he does not share Will’s concerns about threading things lightly. “But I’m not sure if it’s straight.”

“Personally,” Will offers, “I never thought about being held by Black Widow.”

Dustin nods along to his words, like he’s dealing with a scientific equation.

“Do you think about being held by Black Widow, Mike?”

“What? No. Ew,” Mike scrunches his nose up in distaste– as though they’re now talking about an actual spider, rather than a superhero. “But– No, wait, that’s not–” Dustin gives him a shit-eating grin. Mike groans, placing his head into his hands, and the rest of his argument comes out muffled. “Whatever. You clearly don’t get it.”
 
“I don’t think that it has to mean that you’re into guys,” Lucas chimes in. His words are accompanied by casual shrug, and said in the tone of someone who has clearly already given this subject some thought. Will doesn’t know what to do with that information. Jump from a building, maybe. “I mean, we’d all get flustered if Spider-Man carried us in his arms.”

Mike looks up at this, and points to him enthusiastically. “Thank you, Lucas.”

Dustin looks between the two of them, his eyes narrowed.

“...Would we?”

“Sure,” Mike concludes. “He’s attractive. That’s not a weird thing to think.”

Will just barely resists the urge to bang his head against the table. He feels Dustin’s eyes glued to his burning face, and sinks even further down his chair. He should have just let that Mind Flayer guy end him, back when he had the chance.

“You can probably google it,” Dustin advises. “There’s a whole Quora discussion.”

Will frowns, turning to his friend with a worried expression. “Why do you know this?” he asks, but Dustin waves him off, as though that’s the sort of information they all spend their free time pursuing. 

“I looked something up on there when I was fourteen,” he explains. “And now I still get random emails."

Lucas nods in understanding, like this really is some universal experience that only Will has been missing out on.

“I don’t care about Quora,” Mike informs them, brash as ever. Under the table, his foot deliberately makes contact with Will’s own. “What do you think, Will?”

Will blinks. This whole conversation is making his head spin far more than any of the aerial aerobics he does on a nightly basis. Also, it now occurs to him that he might be very dangerously sleep-deprived. “About Quora?” he asks, even though he knows that can’t be right. Mike rolls his eyes.

“No, about–”

“Wait,” Lucas interrupts them, out of literally nowhere. “Do you guys think that Will is dating Spider-Man?”

Seriously. Where is Mind Flayer when Will needs him? The table falls into a pensive silence at this statement, as though it’s actually something to be seriously considered. Even Dustin pretends to entertain this theory, even though he very well knows it can’t be true.

“It’d make sense,” he says, because he’s awful, and a traitor. Will doesn’t hold back from glaring at him this time.

“No, it wouldn’t,” he says, firmly. “Because I’m not.”

“Dude, that’s exactly what someone who’s dating Spider-Man would say.”

Will rolls his eyes, and finally shuts his chemistry book. Apparently, there won’t be any more studying going on. “Lucas is right,” he says, in an attempt to bring the centre focus back to Mike’s original question, which he still hasn’t even fully processed. “It doesn’t have to mean you’re into guys,” he elaborates, since his original statement is met only with confused glances. “I mean, it’s not like you actually know Spider-Man. And you wouldn’t still feel that way if you did, so. It’s different. Like having a crush on a celebrity.”

This, for some reason, doesn’t seem to reassure Mike at all. Instead, he looks even more troubled than before. 

“What’s the face for?” Will asks, nudging his foot.

Mike shakes his head, like he’s chasing away some worrisome thought.

“It’s just my face,” he says, and then raises an eyebrow. “What, you don’t like it?” He gives him a playful smile. The lines of Mike’s facial structure have gotten sharper over the last year– but when he smiles like this, all the boyish softness comes back to him in an instant. It makes Will feel the same way as leaping off of a building, except more.

He tilts his head to the side, considering the question asked. 

“I’ve seen better,” he lies.

Mike sighs dramatically, like that is the saddest thing he has ever heard. Then, after he downs all that is left of his coffee in one go, dramatically putting his cup down on the table, he says: “Can you pour me another one?”

Lucas, who this request is directed towards, looks at him with some suspicion. 

“I don’t think that’s good for you, man.”

“Who are you, my mom? I’m trying to drown my sorrows.”

Will grins. “In mochaccinos?” he teases, but pushes his own unfinished cup towards him.

Mike looks at him, and accepts the drink gratefully. “We all have our vices, Byers,” he jokes. Under the table, he hooks his foot to Will’s ankle, and keeps it there.

Yeah, Will thinks, as Mike tips his head back to drink his beverage. 

We really do.

“You’re having way too much fun with this,” Will says, looking at his phone with a small frown. Ever since that conversation, Dustin has been monopolising the Party groupchat, and sharing a frankly concerning amount of Spider-Man x Reader stories with Mike. Sometimes, he also threw in some Buzzfeed quizzes; which tell you whether or not Spider-Man would date you, based on your breakfast food choices.

Will had tried to leave the chat, but was unfortunately immediately added back.

The two of them are sitting in Dustin’s kitchen, chemistry textbooks once again all around them. With each day that leads him closer to the midterm exam, Will realises just how much he had overestimated his ability to balance his responsibilities.

Yeah, sure, he’ll save the city. But who is going to save his grades?

And as though that’s not stressful enough, there’s also this whole… Mike situation. Will’s solution so far has been to give him space and support in equal measures, and to allow him to deal with it at his own pace. Dustin agrees wholeheartedly, but his idea of support is far too consuming to also include space.

“The question is why you aren’t. Shouldn’t you be over the moon right now?”

“No,” Will responds, pragmatically. He has no interest in the moon, or anything other than being done with this conversation. “What I should be doing is working on this chemistry assignment. And so should you.”

“I’d much rather talk about your chemistry with Mike.”

Will sighs. Mike. Somehow, he manages to complicate Will’s life even when he isn’t around.

“Well, tough luck. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Isn’t there, though?”

“No,” Will insists. “I’ve liked him for years, and he isn’t even sure that he’s into guys.”

Dustin looks at him with over-the-top disbelief.

“Didn’t you hear him call you attractive yesterday? To your face?”

Will rests his book on the table. 

“What are you implying, Dustin?”

“I’m not implying anything," says Dustin. "I’m stating. He has a thing for you.”

Will looks back down at the periodic table, resigned. He might not understand chemistry, but there are some things he does know. When you’ve been harbouring unrequited feelings for this long, you learn to never get your hopes up. Especially when the person you’re in love with is Mike Wheeler, who is just Like That sometimes. Particularly with Will.

He is, unfortunately, speaking from experience. Believe it or not, there was a time, back when they were thirteen, when he really did think that Mike might like him too. 

But considering that Mike then entered a brief relationship with El, that clearly wasn’t the case, and it’s clearly stupid to get hung up on these things, or to get hopeful about them. He’s been there before, and it never brought him anything other than feeling like the world’s biggest fool.

“He thinks Spider-Man is attractive,” Will corrects him. “And that means nothing.”

Dustin’s phone flashes with a new notification. He looks down at it, and raises an eyebrow. 

“He just sent me a DM asking for more quiz links,” he informs. “So I don’t think it means nothing to him.”

Will looks up, solely so that Dustin can take in the full force of his frown. “Why are you so hung up on this?” he asks. He never wanted to go back to studying this badly in his whole life, and he doesn’t think he will ever again. Unfortunately for him, Dustin does not share this sentiment. He levels Will with a Look (capital L, for “you’re being a Loser”), and places one of his hands on Will’s shoulder. Will follows the action with cautious eyes, suspicious of what’s coming next. 

“Listen,” he says. “You can talk to me if you need to. And not just about the guy in the chair stuff.”

At this, Will’s resolve starts to crumble. Despite all of his Dustinisms (exhibit A: when he adopted a creature that ended up trying to turn the whole city into slugs), Will appreciates having someone he can share this part of his life with. And he is glad that person happens to be Dustin Henderson. The last two years have been a lot to deal with, and having his best friend by his side helped more than he’ll ever be able to articulate. Not to mention how much he has helped with the scientific side of things.

“I know I can” he assures. “And you can always talk to me, too.”

Dustin points his pencil at him excitedly. “See,” he says, like he’s proving a point in some argument that Will didn’t know they were having. “You always do that!”

Will frowns. He looks down to where Dustin’s pencil is now poking at his shoulder (this is one of the few shirts he hasn’t stained with either paints or grime, and he’d really hate it if it got ruined as well), and then back up again.

“Do what?”

“Like yesterday,” Dustin carries on, ignoring the fact that Will ever spoke. “When you apologised to the guy robbing a store.”

Ah. Right. He did do that.

“You called him Sir,” Dustin says. “The robber.”

Will pushes Dustin's pen away. 

“Well– he's still just a person. We don't know anything about him."

“That’s exactly it,” Dustin concludes. “You believe everyone deserves the chance to be good. So why wouldn’t something good happen to you, too?”

Will frowns.

“Mike doesn’t owe me anything,” he responds, almost on instinct.

It's important to him that he makes that clear, because he doesn’t ever want to be one of those guys. His friendship with Mike means the world to him, and it’s much, much more than just an inconvenient zone that he’s stuck in. Besides, Mike can’t help the way that he feels (or doesn’t feel, really) any more than Will can.

“Of course not,” Dustin agrees. “That’s not what I’m saying. This isn’t even about him. It’s about the way you won’t for a second let yourself believe that he might like you. Because you convinced yourself that good things can’t happen to you.” 

Will doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. Or he does, but… It’s too complicated of a conversation to have at one in the afternoon, over a pack of Nerds candy. 

He does think about it for a moment, silently. Even if nobody says it outright, except maybe the man himself, Will knows that he’s part of the reason his dad left. Right from the start, he was a disappointment to him. Not that he cares what his dad thinks, not really. He’s glad that he’s gone, now. But the consequences it had on their family are undeniable. Money was tight before, too– but after he left, Will’s mom and brother have both been running themselves ragged. Mom works constantly, and Jonathan had to start acting like a second parent, even though he was still just a kid himself. And then when something good finally did happen two years ago, and Bob came into their lives–

He died.

Because of Will. Because he went to find Will that night. 

If good things can happen in Will’s life, then that has rarely ever been the case so far. So he put on his mask, and he learned how to use his powers. Endurance outlives hope, doesn’t it? The good things are still out of his control– but now he can at least make sure that nothing bad happens to anyone else. The people he loves especially.

But he doesn’t say any of that. He just raises an eyebrow, and gives Dustin a small, teasing smile. 

“Why are you talking like my mom’s self-help book?” 

Dustin raises a middle finger. "Okay, smartass," he says. “I’m being heartfelt,” he informs him.

Will laughs. Then, with a small nod of his head, he relents. He makes sure that his face looks extra serious as he says: “Fine. I promise I’ll try to believe I deserve good things.” After a pause for solemn effect, he grins– and this time, it’s genuine. “Like the rest of your candy.”

Before Dustin can react, Will takes hold of his Nerds, and moves them out of reach.

“Son of a bitch,” Dustin swears, but any attempt to get his candy back is lost right from the start. Generally, trying to seize something from the grasp of a friend with super fast reflexes is not particularly fun. Especially if that same friend can stick to the ceiling. Except, of course, if you are the said friend– in which case it’s very fun.

They do get back to studying for the chemistry exam, eventually– and Will does give Dustin the rest of his candy back (but not before picking out all the yellow ones for himself).

They don’t bring up the Mike thing again, and Will privately hopes that it’ll stay that way. 

With two more days left until the exam, Will officially decides that he can no longer be bothered.

Unless there’s something nefarious going on, he doesn’t often do the whole Spider-Man thing during the day. Mainly because he has school, and spends most of his afternoons working at Melvald’s– but also because he can’t keep constantly blowing off his only friends. There are only so many times he can tell them that he caught the flu, or that his faraway uncle has, once again, died.

Still, whenever he does have the time, and doesn’t have to spend it kicking anyone’s ass, he likes to just swing around the city. It’s a special kind of nice in the winter, when the entire city is covered in lights and snow, and all the restaurants and cafes smell of warm spices and mulled wine. 

Most of his morning is relaxed. He helps an older man carry a box of books up to his new apartment, and does a quick sketch of the city from the top of the building. He loves to draw from places that high up in the air, where the world looks entirely different. At some point, he's even joined by a small calico cat with an affection for chin scratches, who he then returns to her owner. Setting up Christmas decorations is also always a common plea at this time of the year– and once he finishes hanging the lights on the high window panes of a bakery, the waitress even rewards him with two warm, freshly-baked muffins.

Just as he makes his way out the door, he spots Mike on the sidewalk. There is a guitar case slung over his shoulder, which means that he is just coming back from practice.

He doesn’t see Will– as he is too busy checking something on his phone. He’s bundled up in so many layers (including gloves, a huge scarf, and earmuffs) that his face is barely visible. Will would find it ridiculous on probably anyone else– and although it does also look ridiculous on Mike, he still manages to pull it off. Or maybe Will is just really, really in love with him. Either way, as far as Will is concerned, Mike looks… handsome.

Until he slips over nothing, and starts falling down towards the icy floor

Without much thinking, Will shoots a web out of his wrist. He connects it to Mike’s jacket, and then uses that attachment to pull him away from the ground, and closer to himself. It’s not until his arm instinctively settles around Mike’s waist that he realises just how close they are. Mike's breath catches, and becomes visible in the cold air around them.

The moment doesn’t last long– though it certainly feels that way. As soon as Mike regains his balance, the initial surprise quickly turns to annoyance.

“Great,” he says. “You again.”

It… isn’t a reaction that Spider-Man often gets from the people he saves from getting their noses broken. And it definitely isn’t a reaction that Will has ever gotten from Mike. 

“Um,” he says, unsure of how to proceed. “Hi?” 

Cautiously, he moves away from Mike, leaving him to stand on his own two feet. He doesn’t fall over again, thankfully, but he does look extremely grumpy. Careful not to strike any nerves, Will asks: “Are you okay?”

Unfortunately, it would seem that all of Mike’s nerves have already been struck.

“No,” he informs him briskly, as though that is somehow his fault.

Having been Mike’s friend from the very start, Will has witnessed this exact situation many times, but he has never actually found himself in this particular position. While it’s true that Mike would do anything for the friends he already has, the road to actually earning his friendship is slow and treacherous. Newcomers and strangers are generally all treated with the same prickly, stubborn attitude.

Still, he isn’t usually rude without a reason. Will tilts his head to the side.

“Do you want to… talk about it?” he offers, lifting one of his hands to showcase the brown paper bag. “The lady I just helped gave me some muffins.” 

Mike says nothing. 

“They’re blueberry,” Will adds, in case that might help.

Mike opens his mouth (presumably to argue), but then closes it. The frown on his face makes a subtle transformation from annoyed to confused. Such a shift would probably be lost on anyone other than Will– but he has studied Mike’s face far more thoroughly than he cares to admit. 

“Sorry,” Mike says, eventually. He sounds a little embarrassed. “Bad day.”

Will shrugs his shoulders. He tries to remind himself that this is a very, very bad idea, and not something he should be doing. Most of the time, he already feels bad for keeping this a secret from Mike– and actually talking to him as Spider-Man is just making things worse. But Mike is clearly in a bad mood, and that has always been Will’s Achilles’ heel.

As casually as he can, he hands over one of the muffins. Mike raises an eyebrow, but accepts the offering.

Still, he looks dubious.

“Don’t you have better things to be doing?” he asks. “You know, being a superhero and all?”

Although he's being blunt, he doesn’t sound like he actually minds Will’s offer.

“I have a test coming up,” Will tells him sadly. “So I’m procrastinating.”

Mike nods, considering this. Once he judges the answer to be pathetic enough to be genuine, he sits down on the bench to their left. He leaves just enough space to silently imply that Spider-Man should follow suit. Will takes a seat next to him. There’s only so much room left, and their knees knock together. 

“It’s stupid,” Mike admits, looking down at his hands, which rest on his thighs. Will opens his mouth to speak, but Mike beats him to it:  “It is,” he insists. “You probably don’t even remember, but you… you sort of saved me from the Mind Flayer the other day.”

“I do remember,” Will responds. 

He realises, belatedly, that this might be an odd thing to say. Especially with the added factor of just how fast he said it. Then again, it’s only the truth. Even if Will hadn’t known Mike since childhood, he can’t imagine a reality in which he doesn’t somehow pick him out from the rest of the crowd.

That doesn’t make Mike any less confused by his statement.

“Oh,” he says, eyebrows drawn together. “I just figured– I mean, you save loads of people every day. It must be hard to remember everyone’s face.” 

It dawns on Will, at that moment, how much of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity this is. It also dawns on him how much of a terrible, very bad idea it is– but it’s not enough to overrule the sudden curiosity. 

“It is,” Will agrees, thoughtfully. With feigned nonchalance, he adds: “But it helps if the face is as nice as yours.”

As if on cue, a blush spreads across Mike’s cheeks. “You’re making it worse,” he laments, and Will can’t help the confused smile that makes its way onto his face.

“I’m making what worse?”

“It’s just– it’s confusing,” says Mike, kicking at the snow beneath his feet. “I mean, I wasn’t even into you!”A pause. “Uh. No offence.”

“None taken,” Will assures him.

“There are a lot of people who are into you, if that helps.”

“Thank you,” says Will. “I think.”

“It's just that–” Mike starts. “I guess that interaction made me realise that–” 

He lets out a sound of frustration, clearly agitated by the sudden lack of ability to express himself. 

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to,” Will assures him. It’s starting to sound like this might be more than just a bad mood caused by the exams. He’d hate it if Mike unknowingly revealed something that he isn’t ready to share with him yet. Unfortunately, Mike has always been far too determined. Before Will has even finished saying his piece, he is already opening his own mouth again.

“I think I’m in love with my best friend,” he blurts out, so fast that it sounds like a single word. “Which is really shit, because he already has feelings for someone else.”

At that moment, Will gains a whole new level of appreciation for the way his mask hides his facial expressions. 

For such a short and fast admission– said in a way akin to ripping off a bandaid– there is a multitude of conclusions that follow. Mike likes boys. Mike likes one of his best friends, who is a boy. That friend already has feelings for somebody else. And since Dustin is newly single, and Will is very consistently single, that only leaves Lucas. 

Mike has a crush on Lucas.

It takes him a little too long to answer.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and tries his best to hide a whole hurricane of confusing emotions from his voice.“I’ve… been there before.”

Mike raises an eyebrow, a small self-deprecating smile on his lips.

“Having a gay crisis over your best friend?”

Will nods. “Yeah, actually.”

Mike makes a show out of wincing, and his facial expression twists as though he tasted something sour. “How’d you get over that?”

There are snowflakes caught in the dark curls of his hair, and Will feels a sudden tightness. There is love stuck in his throat, he realises. Which happens sometimes, when the feeling is too big for the body, but isn’t allowed to escape it. 

“I didn’t,” he admits. Mike hums in solemn solidarity. 

“Well, cheers, to that,” he says, mockingly upbeat, and raises his muffin towards Will– who bumps it with his own, as though they’re clinking wine glasses. A few seconds later, through a mouthful of the pastry (an unfortunate habit that makes Will crinkle his nose, lovestruck as he is), Mike adds: “Maybe we should just hook up with each other. To get over them.”

Will nearly chokes. Mike half-heartedly pats him on the back.

“I don’t think,” he eventually admits. “That would really work for me.”

Mike nods along sadly.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Me neither.”

They sit on the bench for a minute longer, pensively eating their muffins. The snowflakes fall around them, even more visible in the golden light of the street lamp. Still, it isn’t so cold that it’s unpleasant. Mike’s thigh occasionally brushes against Will’s, and in those moments he doesn’t feel cold at all. In fact, he considers taking off the jacket that he wore over his suit altogether.

Then the phone in the pocket of the said jacket starts ringing, and interrupts the sombre mood. 

“Duty calls?” Mike asks, nodding towards it. He crumples up the muffin cup, and throws it vaguely in the direction of the trash bin, but misses by proportions yet unwitnessed. He quickly turns towards Will. “That was an accident. Don’t arrest me for littering.”

“As long as you pick it up,” Will agrees, reasonably. “And no, it’s just my mom. I need to buy some milk. And,” he looks down at his phone. “Um. Night pads.”

Mike regards him for a second, as though he can’t quite figure out if that was a joke. 

“Milk?” he asks.

Will nods, slowly. 

“Wow,” says Mike. He sounds genuinely surprised. “You really are just some guy.” 

Will laughs.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I pay taxes and everything.” 

He pauses his own joke, suddenly a little sheepish. “Well. Not actually. I’m only sixteen.”

This time, Mike joins the laughter. Will’s stomach flips. 

He realises, with sudden clarity, just how much he misses hanging out with Mike. Which might be ridiculous, since they see each other almost every day. But there just isn’t enough time to do nothing together, like they used to. Keeping secrets, Will has learned, can isolate you despite your best intentions.

But there’s also something dangerously exciting about this, specifically. About talking to Mike as Spider-Man, rather than as himself. Maybe the fact that he can admit things he usually never would, without them feeling like a risk, or sounding like actual confessions.

“Hey,” he says, before he has the chance to properly think it through. “If you don’t mind tagging along while I get the milk, do you want me to… drop you off?” he points his thumb behind his shoulder. “Just, the weather isn’t great for a walk, so…”

Mike smiles, pleased and surprised in equal measure.

“Yeah?” he asks. Will nods, because he has felt too many different emotions in the past twenty minutes, and can no longer be trusted with words.“That’d be great,” says Mike. “As long as you don’t actually drop me.”

Will nods again.

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

Except he apparently isn’t reassuring enough, because Mike narrows his eyes with suspicion. “I’m serious,” he warns. “Do not let go of me.”

Will laughs, and shakes his head.

As if he ever could.

“This is sad,” Dustin proclaims, taking in the sight before him. “Dude, please don’t tell me you have a playlist.”

Presently lying with his back against the ceiling, Will does not respond to these allegations. His school books and various hoodies are scattered across the bedroom floor, and the white clouds outside ensure that the only light that fills the room is just as gloomy as his mood. The headphones that hang around his neck are far too loud, and make any attempt of denial entirely futile.

"I won't tell you, then."

He is, officially, wallowing. 

And Dustin, just as officially, does not care for his attitude at all. "Do you want to know what I think?" he asks, chucking his backpack onto the floor, and turning on the bedside lamp. Will shields his eyes from the sudden onslaught of warm light. 

"Not really," he says. "But I feel like you're going to tell me anyway."

"You're jumping to conclusions without any reliable evidence,” Dustin tells him. Between his fingers, he lifts up an empty carton of ice cream that has been sitting at Will’s desk. "Like emotional parkour." 

Will doesn’t respond. He is the poster kid of parkour, and therefore doesn’t see how the conclusions he’s jumping to could be anything but precise. Mike has a crush on Lucas, and that much can now be accepted as a fact. A tragic, terrible fact, but a fact nonetheless. And it’s fine, really. Lucas is absolutely smitten with Max, for one– but even if he did suddenly like Mike back, Will would never let his own feelings mess that up. He was cool when Mike and El dated, and he could be cool again.

But he is at least allowed to listen to loud music about it, in the privacy of his own bedroom.

“You need to pull yourself together,” says Dustin, who has his own opinions about the things Will is and isn’t allowed to do. Will remains generally unmoved by them, so Dustin continues in a lower voice: “Dude, you're Spider-Man. You fought against Vecna. You spent a week trapped in an alternate dimension.” 

“Yes,” says Will. “I am aware.” But fortunately for anyone with plans of robbing a bank on this particular Monday afternoon, he is also a teenage boy with an unrequited crush– so the world will have to contain its problems without him, just this once.

Dustin looks up at him, and once again raises the ice cream carton, like he’s holding some truly incriminating piece of evidence. 

“So why are you letting Mike be your biggest problem?”

Will furrows his eyebrows at the question. 

Why? God, where does he even begin?

It’s no secret that Mike doesn’t know how to fight. He doesn’t have any powers, and he gets out of breath after running for longer than half a minute. His aim, admittedly, might be extraordinary– but only in the sense that it’s extraordinarily terrible. Will can’t count the number of times he fell over while rocking in his chair in class. And yet, he has never hesitated to throw himself in between his friends and whatever danger they're facing. Even when there’s no monster other than bad dreams, he is the friend who will sleep by your bed, and put his arm around your shoulder when you’re feeling scared. 

There are certain responsibilities that come with his powers, and Will knows it. So he fights against Vecna, and he survives alternate dimensions, and he saves the city in time to make it to the third period. But Mike didn’t need to be bitten by a radioactive spider to take the world onto his shoulders. It’s just who he is. Smart and headstrong. Attentive, devoted, and true. Stupidly valiant, too.

And in Will’s eyes, he has always been the one at the heart of the story. 

“He’s not my biggest problem,” he argues– because telling any of that to Dustin would probably just get him a blank stare. And someday, when he is no longer actively miserable, a lifetime of teasing. Not that his friend seems to believe his assertion. Before they can bicker about it further, though, the bedroom door inches open.

Which is very, very bad– because Will is still up on the ceiling. 

Thankfully, Dustin reaches the door before any real damage can be done. He slams it shut, full force. “Mom,” Will yells, absolutely mortified. He tries to get down from the ceiling as quickly as possible, but gets tangled in his headphone wires. “Please knock!” he pleads– though, he supposes, it is a bit late for such reminders.

“Holy shit,” Dustin whispers. He looks more distraught at the thought of offending Joyce Byers than he did while being faced with a slimy monster. Will can relate. “I just slammed the door in your mom’s face.”

Despite the empathy he feels, Will ignores him– as he is far too busy trying to detangle himself. Even his newly gained dexterity is no match to a tangled headphone cord.

“It was one thing when I did it to Ted, the son of a bitch,” Dustin says, now leaning against the door. “But Joyce is–”

Not going away, apparently. There is a knock at the door, followed by his mom’s voice.

“Boys? What’s going on in there?” 

She sounds worried. Will and Dustin exchange a panicked glance. 

“We’re naked,” Dustin blurts.

Will bangs his head against the ceiling.  

On the other side of the door, Joyce is terrifyingly quiet.

“We are not naked,” he amends, desperately. 

“Will,” Joyce says, cautious but firm. “Do we need to have a talk?”

Will nudges Dustin away from the door carelessly, and pushes it open as far as it will go– so that his mom can have the full view of the room, and hopefully be assured that there was absolutely nothing going on in there. This also includes an obvious lack of cleaning up, but he needs to pick his battles right now.

“No, mom, it’s fine,” he assures her. “Look, everyone is dressed.”

Dustin waves at her. Will’s mom scans the room, and then the two of them. Her eyes pause at Will’s old Ramones T-shirt, and then at his hair. Belatedly, he realises that lying upside down probably messed them both up. Dustin’s guilty smile definitely isn’t helping them sell their case, either. 

“Alright,” Joyce says, lips pursed, and Will can tell that this conversation is far from being truly over. “Well, Argyle brought us pizza. You boys should come down before it’s cold.”

Will breathes a momentary sigh of relief.

“Yes mom,” he says, with the sweetest smile he can muster. “Is Hop coming too?”

Joyce shakes her head with a sigh.

“No,” she says, quickly dipping into Will’s room to pick up the throwaway hoodies lying on the floor. “He’s cleaning up the mess with the Demogorgon again.” She straightens up, and points to the two of them with one of her hands. Will’s shirt hangs in her grasp.  “Either one of you sees something like that, I want you to turn around, and I want you to run the other way. Understood?”

They freeze up for the second time in the past two minutes.

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course.”

Joyce nods, satisfied. She gives Will’s messed-up hair another curious glance. He makes an attempt at smoothing it out. His mom raises her eyebrow, and he quickly drops his hands. 

“Come set the table,” she says, amused. “And keep the door open.”

Will nods, obediently. As soon as his mom is out of sight, though, he lets out a tortured sigh. Dustin meets his eyes, but only shrugs. This doesn’t seem to bother him the way Will thinks it should.

"Look at the bright side," he offers. “I'm still a step up from Mike."

Will shakes his head. He opens his mouth to retort, but halts.

Only then does he notice El, standing in the open doorway of the room down the hall. Her hair is tied haphazardly with a purple scrunchie, and her swirly straw cup is raised halfway up to her mouth. She is looking at them with her trademarked calm curiosity, head tilted to the side. 

“What about Mike?” she asks.

Will holds back the urge to bang his head again, but this time on purpose. This is turning out to be much more than he feels equipped to handle. Which is saying something, since he once prevented an actual train crash. And yet, as it would seem, some disasters are just too great to be prevented. 

Even by superheroes.

Come Tuesday, Will has more or less gotten the misery out of his system. Which, it should be noted, is not at all the same as getting over it. The latter, he is afraid, is not possible. His condition is very terminal.

That thesis is confirmed as soon as he sees Mike again, during history class. Will is already sitting at their shared desk by the time Mike enters the classroom, and Mike pauses at the door once he sees him. His entire face lights up, and he gives Will a little wave. He does that, sometimes. Acts like encountering Will in a class that they share every single Tuesday is somehow one of life’s more pleasant surprises. Will is never sure what to make of it, except to be defenselessly pleased in turn.

“Hi,” Mike says, grinning as he all but throws himself into his seat. “Come here often?”

Will raises an eyebrow, bemused. “Here,” he asks. “As in class?”

Mike shrugs, undeterred by his teasing.

"Yeah," he confirms. “You’re a hard guy to catch. I missed you yesterday.”

Will blinks, charmed in spite of his common sense. “You did?” he wonders.

As though he has only just processed the words that had left his mouth, Mike’s eyes widen. “I mean, we all did,” he corrects himself. “The Party. We all missed you.” Looking down, he frowns at the gauze wrapped around Wil’s hand. “What’s that?”

Quickly, Will covers the injury with his hand– as though there’s any point in doing so now. Mike is already reaching for it, and turning it over in order to inspect it.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “One of the baubles broke while El and I were decorating the tree at Melvald's.”

There is still worry on Mike’s face. Eventually, though, he nods, and gently lets Will’s hand back down on the table. He runs his fingers across Will’s knuckles as he does so, and Will kind of wants to scream, because he doesn't even seem to realise that he's doing it. Which is really nice, you know. And good for him, really, to be so unaware of it. Will, personally, can't focus on anything else, and it's a real bother. 

“Right,” Mike says. "Nancy goes berserk every Christmas, and then she doesn't let anyone else decorate the tree. Because we'll mess up her aesthetic vision," he puts on a lofty voice as he says that last part. “But if you ever do need medical help, I’m your man.” 

“My man?” Will repeats. “Hardly. A boy scout at most.”

“Hey, don’t mock,” Mike protests, nudging Will’s knee with his own. “You’re just jealous because I have you beat at your own game, cleric.”

Will smiles as he nudges Mike back, amused. “I didn’t say anything,” he retorts, even though he knows that doesn’t matter. Most of the time, when it’s just the two of them, words aren’t really necessary. 

“Sure,” Mike says, playing along.“So you’re smiling because of how cool you think I am. Am I right?”

“Definitely,” Will agrees easily. “And if I ever do need help, I now know who to call.”

“I’ll have my first aid kid locked and loaded,” Mike jokes. He glances down at his lips, just for a second, and then quickly looks away. Will’s heart does something very strange and complicated. “Also," Mike keeps talking, over the rattling in Will’s brain. "I was thinking… Maybe we could go see a movie this weekend? To celebrate the chemistry test being over.”

Will nods, mostly relieved that they’ve moved on to a different topic.

“Sure. Although," he hesitates, feeling apologetic. "I think that Lucas has a date with Max on Saturday. But Dustin should be free.”

Mike lifts his gaze from his notebook, searching for something in Will’s eyes. He seems confused by what he finds in its stead. Then disappointed, and maybe even a little sad.

“What?” Will asks.

And then, with a shake of Mike's head, all of those emotions disappear.

“Sorry. I spaced out,” he says, with a tight little smile. “You aren’t the only one pulling all-nighters during midterms."

"AP physics?" Will asks, with pity.

"AP physics," Mike confirms. He's just a little too forlorn for that to be the entire truth. "But right, yeah," he recovers. "It’s a deal, then.”

Unfortunately, Will never gets to find out what all of that was about– because Troy Walsh suddenly decides to usurp his space.

Or maybe that’s the wrong way to put it. For the space to be usurped, Troy would actually have to acknowledge his existence. Instead, he doesn’t even glance in Will’s direction– but he does take a hold of his pencil case, and throws it at one of his goons. They begin playing catch with it, and anxiety spikes in Will’s chest. His new colouring pencils are in there. The expensive ones, that Hop bought him as a gift only a month ago, in an awkward but appreciated attempt at father-son-bonding. If they break–

“Give it back, Troy,” Will says. His voice is firm, but far too quiet. Suddenly, he feels like a helpless kid all over again. 

He’s had a long few days, and this is the last thing he needs right now.

School bullies are, in some ways, harder to deal with than regular, old-fashioned villains. The latter, at least, usually don’t have rich parents who will report you to the headmaster if you punch their lights out. Still, Will knows that he shouldn’t be such a doormat about this. But old habits die hard. Not to mention that he’s afraid that if he does fight back, he’ll have trouble pulling his punches. As much as Troy annoys him, he really doesn’t want to get suspended for accidentally breaking some jerk’s arm. Or explaining how he managed to do that with just a single manoeuvre. 

Mostly because his mom would be super disappointed, and only a little bit because he’d actually feel bad for Troy.

Mike has no such reservations.

“Hey,” he snaps, as he pushes his chair away from the desk. He isn’t particularly strong or tough, but he is one of the tallest boys in the class– and his determination is that of someone twice his strength. This very occasionally creates some illusion of intimidation. “He said to give it back, asshole.”

Finally, Troy decides to actually look their way.

“What was that, Frog Face?” he leers. “Protecting your little boyfriend?”

“Why, are you jealous?” Mike taunts, steady and unrelenting. “Give it back.”

Fortunately, the teacher enters the room before the situation can escalate, and before Mike can end up with a broken bone or two. Troy does toss the pencil case back once Mrs Greene walks in, even if he still somehow manages to be mean and unpleasant about it. It’s fine, though. Will is just glad that the display is over, even if just for now. 

“Thanks,” he whispers to Mike, grateful for the attempt at defending his honour. 

“No problem,” says Mike, and casually bumps their shoulders together. He doesn’t pull away after. “Just don’t bail on me this weekend.”

“I won’t,” Will promises, fondly. “Scout’s honour.”

Mike gives him a brilliant, beaming smile in response, and then turns his attention to the blackboard. Will does too– but he can’t possibly concentrate on anything for the rest of the class. He’s far too aware of Mike’s shoulder, still pressed up against his own.

Yeah. Terminal indeed. 

Once again: given his line of extracurricular activities, Will really should have known better than to joke about needing medical help. Chekov’s first aid kit, and all. If it gets brought up in the fifth act, someone is getting fired at in the sixth.

It’s isn’t much of a planned event, honestly, when he finds himself at Mike’s window. The wound isn’t deep, and chances are it’ll take him less than an hour before he’s well again. But an hour is still too long to risk, and to spend out in the open, and in the dark.

And, well. Mike’s apartment is right there. A perfectly convenient checkpoint. 

Also, he might be a bit feverish right now, and that might be affecting his decision-making.

He lands on the fire escape in front of Mike's bedroom window, where he has found himself a thousand times before. He gently taps on the glass. It’s not that late, and it doesn’t take too long for Mike to stir awake. Will waves at him with the hand that isn’t clutching at his side, too delirious to feel awkward about it.  

“Hi,” he says, once Mike opens the window. Then, remembering his manners, he adds: “Sorry to bother.” Mike’s first aid offer was, after all, directed towards Will. He isn’t entirely sure that it also extends to Spider-Man; who is, for all intents and purposes, a perfect stranger. Even if the ten minutes they spent in the supermarket the other day (whilst trying to figure out which pads they were supposed to buy) were quite the bonding experience.

“Hello,” says Mike. He is, understandably, confused. The cold December wind carries his dishevelled hair around his face. He crosses his arms across his chest to protect himself from the abrupt cold. Once his eyes fall to Will’s side, he suddenly seems to wake up.  “Holy shit," he says, with feeling. "Holy shit. Are you bleeding?”

“I’m alright,” Will assures him. “It’s just a light stab.”

“A light stab,” Mike repeats, incredulously. He’s still staring at the blood-soaked fabric.

“I’ve been stabbed before,” Will offers, as though it’s something that gets less terrible over time. Like coffee, or those salty toothpastes.

“That’s not reassuring,” Mike informs him. 

"Oh," Will muses. "Well."

He doesn't have anything else to add. Mike shifts closer, inspecting the wound.

“Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

“No,” Will says, quickly. “I’m fine, honestly.”

“You– Jesus,” Mike puts his hand to his temple, and takes a few back-and-forth steps. “Have you ever heard of blood loss?”

“It’s not lost,” Will jokes. “I can see exactly where it is.” 

Mike does not look amused at all. In what he hopes is a comforting voice, Will says: “Look, I heal really fast. It’s not a big deal." This does not seem to help. "Honestly," he adds. "I just need to… stay still for a bit," he tries to adjust his position, and winces. “Although, if you still have that first aid kit–”

Mike nods quickly, instantly snapping out of his daze once he has a task to accomplish. He motions for Will to get inside his room, while he searches for what he needs. Will obeys, and carefully settles onto the seat on the windowsill, mindful not to get blood stains on any fabric. Karen Wheeler would not take that very well.

With the first aid kit now in hand, Mike pauses in the middle of his room. He just stands there for a few seconds, in his Ninja Turtles pyamas, and looks at Will with a pained expression on his face. Will starts to worry, then, that this was a mistake after all– since Mike is clearly freaked out. But before he can change his mind and take his leave, Mike finally speaks up.

“Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I'm just- I’m trying to find a way to ask you to take your suit off that doesn’t sound like a bad pickup line.”

Once again, Will is very grateful for the invention of masks. A blush spreads all across his face. 

“I think I might need help with that, actually,” he admits, sheepishly. “There’s, um. A zipper in the back?”

Mike nods, and quietly comes up to sit next to him. Will turns his back towards him, and Mike gently places a hand on his shoulder, while the other slowly undoes the zipper. Will turns back around, and their eyes meet, just as Mike helps him pull the fabric of the suit down. They both look away quickly.

It's just Mike, Will tries to remind himself. Get it together. He once put on roller skates without any socks.

This, unfortunately, does not help. Will already knew about the socks, and still lacked enough common sense to go ahead and fall in love.

They don't look at each other again until Mike is nearly finished cleaning up the wound. Will decides to look at the walls instead, but even that isn't safe. Sometimes since Will last visited his room, Mike put up a bunch of his drawings all over the walls- including some Will didn't even know he kept. It makes him foolishly happy.

“I'm really sorry about this," Will tells him– because now that he has had the time to rest, and is no longer feeling delirious from both pain and battle adrenalin, he fully realises how much of a terrible idea this was. But Mike only shakes his head. 

"Don't be," he says. He also seems calmer now, since the bleeding has stopped. "You saved my life twice, at this point,” he jokes, voice still a little frail, from both panic and sleep. “This is the least I can do."

Will thinks this over.

"Not really. I just saved your guitar, that second time."

"Which is worth more than my life," Mike reiterates. Will raises an eyebrow– and the judgment must be felt even with the mask on, because Mike smiles ruefully. "No, actually. If I damage the guitar, I might as well die too, because my mom would kill me anyway. That thing costs way too much."

Will laughs, but winces as Mike applies some pressure onto the wound. Mike looks at him apologetically.

“Is it really bad?” Will asks him.

“It’s not good,” Mike admits, hands careful and lingering. For a guy in Ninja Turtles pyamas, he does seem to know what he's doing. He grins up at him. “Fortunately, you hit the jackpot when picking whose window to crash into.”

“Sorry for waking you up, by the way,” Will says, because he feels the need to apologise again and again.

Mike waves him off.

“Who says I was sleeping? There’s actually this really great Spider-Man slow-burn fic that I found–”

“Oh my God. Shut up.”

Mike grins, terribly pleased with himself. Finally, he leans back.

“There," he says, satisfied. "All patched up.”

Will smiles too.

“Thanks, boy scout.”

“No worries,” Mike assures him again. “Like I said, I’m…”

Suddenly, he stops talking- and when he looks at Will this time, it’s different from all the other wide-eyed glances he gave him throughout this night. 

“Holy shit,” he says, and sounds even more astounded than when he first said it, nearly twenty minutes ago. “No way.”

Will frowns, and shifts in his seat. The look Mike is giving him is, honestly, starting to make him nervous. 

“What?” he asks. 

"No way," Mike says, again. Then, he demands: “How did you know that I was in scouts?”

...Shit.

Think. Think think think.

“I didn’t,” Will says, weakly. “It was just a joke.”

“When you first came in,” Mike barrels on, with the same unrelenting determination he has whenever he's in the middle of solving a puzzle. “You asked if I still had the first aid kit.”

Fuck, Will thinks. This can’t be happening. 

"No I didn't,” he says, very convincingly. 

He wants to slap himself as soon as the words leave his mouth. He should have just stayed outside, really. Bleeding out in the snow would be a picturesque way to go, at least. Dying of mortification is definitely not.  

"What do you mean, no you didn't? You did,” Mike demands. “You did. I was there."

Will opens his mouth. Then he helplessly closes it again. 

"I–" he tries to say, but cuts himself off. What's the point of arguing it, at this point? Defeated under Mike's gaze, all of the fight and panic go out of Will’s body. His shoulders drop.

And then, he lets the mask drop as well.

They look at each other for a long, quiet moment. Will smiles at his friend gently.

“Hi, Mike."

At first, it honestly seems like Mike is about to faint.

But then he groans instead, and falls forward until his forehead rests on the bare skin on Will’s shoulder. Unsure of what to do, and on the verge of fainting himself, Will awkwardly pats his back.

“Oh my God,” Mike laments. “This is so embarrassing.”

Will frowns, and pauses with his unhelpful patting motion.

“What,” he wonders out loud. “Why?”

Mike sits up straight now, so that he can look him in the eyes.“What do you mean why,” he asks. “I basically spilled my guts out to you the other day.”

Will’s eyes widen in realisation.

“Oh,” he says. Mike still seems very much miserable. Quickly, Will tries to mend that. “But you don’t have to worry! I won’t tell Lucas about it.”

Mike takes a short break from his misery to give Will a very puzzled look.

“What? Why would I care if you tell Lucas?”

“Because…” Will says, now feeling lost himself. “You have a crush on him?”

Mike shakes his head, distraught.

“What? No I don’t. I have a crush on you,” he says, like that is common knowledge, and like Will’s mind isn’t currently exploding. “You thought I have a crush on Lucas?”

Will falters. What is going on right now?

“You said it’s your best friend. And that he has feelings for someone else!”

“Yeah, because you’re dating Dustin!”

“What?” Will says, incredulous, because this is very much news to him. “No I'm not.”

“But,” Mike says. “You’re– you’re always with him! And! You told us that you have a crush on someone! And El said she saw you–”

“Because he knows that I’m Spider-Man,” Will interrupts. “And I don't know what El saw, but I was talking about you.”

Now it’s Mike’s turn to look completely flabbergasted. Which is good, actually, because Will needs the short break that Mike's stunned silence offers. He can't believe he just said that. In all of the years he spent pining, this is not how he ever imagined he’d reveal his feelings.

“Oh,” says Mike. “So. So when you said that you have feelings for your best friend… That was also–”

He points to himself, somehow still uncertain.

“You,” Will confirms.“Yes.”

They sit with that knowledge for a while. 

“Wow,” Mike concludes, at last. “We’re both really stupid.” 

Will, still feeling shell-shocked, nods in agreement.

“Which, you know, I’m allowed to be stupid–" Mike rambles. "But you literally have the responsibility of being Spider-Man on your shoulders so–” he pauses, as though he has just, once again, reminded himself of all the many realisations that this night has brought them. He falls forward, leaning his head against Will's shoulder once more.  “Ugh!”

And then he stays there, silent and unmoving, for a concerning amount of time.

“Mike?” Will asks, poking him in the arm with his finger. 

“Dead and gone,” Mike informs him, dramatically.

Finally, Will begins to smile. He pokes his arm again.

“Can I have your Nintendo, then?”

“Sure. My comics, too. Just please make sure I have a nice funeral.”

“I’m not sure how nice I can make it. I only have twenty dollars, so it’s hard.”

This gets Mike to lift his head up, and look at him.

“Really? You don’t get special superhero salary?”

Will shakes his head.

“It’s not so bad, though," he reasons. "I do get free muffins, sometimes.”

Persumably remembering that interaction, Mike puts a hand over his face.

“Oh God,” he says, sounding like he’s in physical pain. “I can’t believe I talked about my feelings for you to you. Twice! In both directions!”

Will laughs. Mike does not.

“I thought you said you weren’t into Spider-Man,” Will reminds him. “You’ve made that super clear, actually.”

Mike lowers his hand to look at him, running his eyes over his form.

“Well, yeah,” he says. “But, I mean. I could be persuaded otherwise.” 

It’s meant to be a joke, Will thinks– but there’s far too much tension between them for it to work. They’re still sitting so close, and- well. Will technically doesn’t have a shirt on. The way Mike’s eyes drop down to his lips doesn’t exactly help, either. 

“Also,” Mike adds, to lighten the mood, no doubt- but his voice comes out too shaky to do the trick. “The Buzzfeed quiz I took said we’d make the perfect couple, so,” He's clearly nervous now, and keeps fidgeting with the gauze in his hands. “So if you ever wanted to maybe test that–”

“Yes,” Will says, immediately. “I’d love to.”

Mike seems surprised by the speed with which he says it. Then his surprise turns into blinding happiness, which spreads across his entire face.

“Okay,” he says. "Cool."

“Cool,” Will agrees. “We could... We could still go see that movie this weekend. Without Dustin,” he adds.

“I’d like that,” says Mike, through the biggest smile Will has ever seen him wear. Will bites the inside of his cheek, a little overwhelmed, and looks down at his hands.

“Sorry I didn't tell you, by the way,” he says. “About the whole Spider-Man thing,” he elaborates. “I wanted to. I wanted you to know more than anyone. But it was just– I didn't want to put you in danger."

"I get it," Mike assures him. “I think I kind of started to suspect, later on, but… I don’t know. I kind of thought I was just going crazy.” He pauses a little.  “I don’t want you to think this is just a Spider-Man thing, though,” he says. “I mean. I mean, the Spider-Man thing is really awesome, obviously, but– it’s you. You know?”

Will might tear up. But that would be really embarrassing, so he should probably not.

“Yeah,” he manages to say. He's definitely tearing up. "You... you too."

“And I know it took me a while to realise,” Mike adds, reaching out to playfully ruffle Will's hair. “But I mean it. I already liked you when you were just a nerd." 

Will ducks out of his reach, and tries his best to look entirely unimpressed.

“Is that supposed to be flirting?” 

Mike shrugs, still grinning.

"Is it working?" he asks.

"Unfortunately," Will admits. Mike beams at him, and he can't even pretend to be annoyed, or keep himself from smiling back. “I get it, though. And- and the same goes for you, obviously. I didn't just... randomly land at your window, or something. I…”

He takes a breath- because after four years of holding it in, he thinks he deserves it. Then, with a soft smile, he says:

“I really like you, Mike.”

The embarrassing earnestness pays off, just for the look on Mike’s face.

“I don’t really see why, to be honest,” he confesses. He makes his voice teasing and light, but Will knows him well enough to know there are real insecurities hidden behind it. “Aren’t there, like, leagues of dudes dying to get with you?”

“Maybe,” Will allows. “But none of them ever stood up for me in class. Or invited me to sleep over at their house when my parents were fighting,” he grins. “Or tried to cheer me up by singing 80s pop music in their Star Wars underwear.”

Mike rolls his eyes. Still, Will can tell that he feels a bit better.

“You make me sound really romantic,” he jokes.

Will shrugs.

“It worked on me, didn't it?”

“Yeah,” Mike says, softly, like he still can't quite believe it. “I guess it did.” 

His eyes fall down to Will’s lips again, and this time, he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to look away. 

Then, it's honestly kind of a blur. Will leans in closer without even really meaning to- because while he might be immune to gravity, the pull of Mike’s very own magnetic field is something entirely else. He doesn't really know what's going on- except that Mike's breath smells like minty toothpaste, and that he's apparently close enough to know what Mike's breath smells like. And it seems that he must have some sort of a pull, too, because Mike is leaning in closer as well.

But just as Will intertwines his fingers with Mike’s, a loud car honk comes from outside the window– followed by numerous others. They startle, and jump apart. 

Mike clears his throat. Will becomes suddenly enraptured by a random spot on the wall.

“Wow,” Mikes jokes, aiming for some levity. “Way to shatter an intimate moment.”

Will raises an eyebrow. 

“Is that what this was?”

Mike scoffs at his teasing, and pushes his shoulder.

"Please,” he says. “Like you weren't just about to kiss me.”

He’s still joking– but then Will doesn’t say anything, and his eyes widen.

“Shit,” he says. “Were you actually?”

Will– who has never kissed anyone before– shrugs. He feels very much out of his comfort zone.

“I don’t know," he says, scrunching his face up. "I guess?”

Why is this so awkward? It’s not this awkward in books.

“You guess,” Mike repeats, disbelieving. Despite his petulant tone, his entire face is red. "Wow. You really know how to make a boy swoon."

“I wasn't trying to make you swoon,” Will protests, and feels a bit like he’s fighting for his life. Even more than earlier that night- which, considering the wound that got him in the situation in the first place, is definitely saying something. Thinking over Mike's words, he pauses. Tilts his head to the side. Runs his eyes over Mike, curiously. Finally, he asks: “Would you… Would you like me to?”

Mike stares at him. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I mean,” he chokes out, like that is just about all he can currently manage. Will empathises.

Curiously, he shifts closer in his seat. He’s still holding Mike’s hand in one of his own, and he slowly and deliberately guides it to rest on his waist, not once breaking eye contact. Mike’s breath hitches.

Will brings his other hand to rest on the back of Mike’s neck– very slowly bringing their faces together. The closer they get, the more Mike’s fingers dig into his skin, like he's afraid Will is going to disappear. But it feels… nice. Dangerously so.

And then, just as Will is finally about to kiss him, the car honks again, even more violently than before. He can’t help it. He bursts into giggles.

“Oh my god,” Mike says, frustratedly. Then, to the street below: “Can you shut up?”

Three more loud honks are his only response.

Will laughs even more now, leaning back against the wall. Mike watches him- and as he does, the frustration on his face turns into fondness. It makes Will feel a little dizzy, to be looked at like that. Then his eyes catch on the clock behind Mike’s head, and he winces.

“I should probably get going,” he announces, remorsefully. “Before mom notices that I’m gone.”

Mike's eyes widen comically fast. He looks very disappointed. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. “You could always just... sleep over.”

Will blushes at the offer, and Mike does too. It's nothing that they haven't done a million times before- but it feels... different now.

Will shakes his head. “I'm sorry," he says, and means it. "You know how worried she gets.”

"Yeah," Mike agrees, snarkily. “Which is totally unfounded, of course. It’s not like you’re out in the middle of the night getting lightly stabbed, or anything.” His gaze falls down to Will’s torso. It stays there for a little longer than necessary, and then returns back to his face. “How… Um. How are you, by the way?”

Will frowns for a moment. If he is being entirely honest, completely forgot about the whole injury thing. 

“Sore,” he admits. “But I meant what I said earlier– I do actually heal really fast,” he smiles then, playfully. “And I had a really great doctor, so. I’m good enough to get back home, I think.”

Mike preens a little at the compliment, even though he's still doesn't seem to want to let him go.

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Will confirms, and carefully begins to pull his suit back on. Mike reaches over to help him. 

Once Mike zips him up, Will pauses before pulling his mask back on. How are they supposed to act now, he wonders, when they both know that they like each other?

“Um,” he says, very charmingly. This is your last chance, he thinks. “Thanks for letting me swing by.”

"Anytime," Mike responds. 

And just like that, the moment is over.

The night is cold, with light snow, so Mike borrows him a jacket and a scarf to wear over his suit (Will has a tough time convincing him to leave out the earmuffs, but eventually manages). Will is already halfway up the building (filled with more adrenalin than during battle, and entirely prepared to make five laps around the entire neighbourhood just to get rid of this giddy energy), when Mike suddenly leans outside the window.

“Hey," he shouts out. "Wait!"

The wind carries his hair, like it did when Will first arrived. He looks really nice in the glow of the city lights- but Will also thinks that he looks nice under the oppressive fluorescent lights of their school, so maybe he is a little bit biased. He attaches his web to the roof of the building, and gets to the window by hanging upside down on that thread, until he and Mike are face to face.

“Yeah?” he asks.

Mike hesitates only for a second. He reaches out, and slowly pulls Will’s Spider-Man mask halfway down his face. 

And then, without any hesitation at all, he kisses him right on the lips. 

It doesn’t last very long, and the position certainly doesn’t allow a perfect angle. But despite that, Will thinks it might be the best first kiss in the history of the world. And the future of the world, too. And actually, superpowers and special senses aside, he thinks that the entire city could go up in the flames right now, and he wouldn’t even so much as notice. He already feels like he’s on fire, anyways.

“Oh,” he says, once they separate. “I– um.” Don’t say something stupid. “Thank you.”

Nice one, Byers.

Fortunately, Mike seems just as mindlessly thrilled as he feels, and so he doesn’t make fun of him for it. Not yet, at least.

“You’re welcome,” he tells him.

Will says nothing. Only stays there, hanging upside down, and looking at Mike- who grins back bashfully.

"What's that face for?" 

"It's just my face," Will says, parroting Mike's words from a few days ago. "You don't like it?"

"I like it fine," Mike retorts.

Will smiles widely.

"Stop that. You said that you like my face first, so-"

"Because I do," Will interrupts, very earnestly. "It's a... good face."

Mike blushes.

"A great face," Will adds. "Really. Very pretty."

“Okay," Mike decides, quickly. "You can go now. We wouldn't want anyone to see you... romancing."

Will stifles a laugh. 

"Romancing?" he echoes, because as in love as he might be, teasing Mike isn't something he'll ever give up on. In fact, it's even more fun now.

Mike glares him, but only halfheartedly.

"Yeah," he confirms. "Spider-Man spotted with a mystery stranger," he recites, changing his voice up as though he's reading out a tabloid headline. "What will the people think?"

If they actually catch a glimpse of the said mystery stranger?

"Lucky guy," Will assumes.

Mike leans forward again, and kisses the words right from his lips. And then he does it again. And again. And again, and again, and–

Well.

Let's just say it takes another ten minutes before Will actually starts heading home.

(And as it turns out, he does know a thing or two about chemistry, after all)