Chapter Text
“Oh my god, you idiot,” a loud, warm voice pulls Will from his very peaceful sleep for once in his life.
He groans, throwing his arm over his head to shield his eyes from the bright ray of sunlight forcing its way through his curtains.
“What’re you doing, Mike?” Will mutters, kicking his feet out so his comforter slides down his chest. “It’s early.”
“It’s seven,” Mike responds with a laugh, his voice far too chipper for this early in the morning. “On Saturday.”
“Exactly my point,” Will whines. He grabs his pillow, pulling it over his face and forcing himself back into complete darkness. Classes have been stressful this semester and more than anything Will just wants to finally sleep in.
“On the first day of Thanksgiving break,” Mike continues, his voice getting slightly louder. So he’s moving closer, fully in Will’s room now without his permission. Nice of him.
Not that Mike’s ever needed permission to be in Will’s room. Their apartment has become one big, shared space with not near enough privacy. They really should have some talk about that. The one time Will brought a guy back here went just about as awkward as he should’ve expected.
“What’s your point?” Will’s voice gets muffled by the pillow.
Before Mike can respond the buzzer echoes across the old, scratched up floors. ‘Historic wood,’ as their landlord called it. And then it hits him.
“Fuck,” Will sits up, his pillow falling into his lap.
“Mhm,” Mike hums, getting this stupid grin on his face.
“Fuck!” Will repeats, scrambling to his feet. Mike snorts as Will desperately searches through his dresser he found at an estate sale where they managed to scrounge together most of their mismatched furniture. Will glances over, scoffing and shoving Mike in the chest hard so Mike finally stumbles out of his room. “You’re a douchebag.”
“You seemed tired,” Mike chuckles, shrugging his shoulders but not disagreeing. “I’ll go let them in while you get ready.”
“I hate you!” Will yells after him, pulling a sweater over his head.
“No you don’t!” Mike shouts back. Will hears the door click shut, quickly finding some clean jeans and hurrying towards their shared bathroom to brush his teeth. It’s a little messier than he’d like guests to see but it’s presentable enough.
He does a quick glance around their apartment, toothbrush still in his mouth. His mom is definitely going to hate the peeling walls, half plaster and half exposed brick. Will thinks it’s sort of cool, though he’s sure her and Hopper will have just about a million things to say about how it’s a problem.
There’s no curtains in the main room, not that Mike or Will mind. Mike’s desk in the corner is a complete mess, scattered with the crumpled remains of half-written stories and two old coffee mugs someone’s definitely going to notice.
Will’s little painting setup by the main window isn’t any better. There’s a half-finished canvas on his easel and an old glass of water sitting on a stool, full of a few paintbrushes that are definitely ruined by now. Their small kitchen at least looks presentable, if not a little cluttered. Mike and Will both have a problem with picking up random knick-knacks. Something else they should definitely have a talk about.
He hears footsteps, hurrying to the bathroom to spit out his toothpaste. He takes one glance at himself in the mirror, at least attempting to fix his hair. It’s still too much like a bowl cut, he really should change that about himself. He almost had the confidence to one night but Mike, a bit too drunk, gave him this ridiculous speech about how he loves Will’s hair. Will hasn’t changed it since.
Love makes him do stupid things, especially this horrible, unrequited love for his childhood best friend that he’s been trying to leave behind. Moving in with Mike over the summer definitely didn’t help, but they had always talked about living together in New York. Their first two years at school had been spent in their own dorms on opposite sides of Manhattan and they hardly saw each other. It was hell, but at least Will had a sliver of hope that he might move on from him. That’s pretty much gone now.
“You walk up those stairs every day?” Will hears Hopper’s voice as he gasps for air.
“We’re used to them,” Mike shrugs in that usual, overexcited voice of his. He loves having guests over for some reason. This week is, like, his personal heaven or something. El and Kali are staying with Jonathan and Nancy, Will’s mom and Hopper are staying in a hotel not far from here, but Lucas, Max, and Dustin happily agreed to sleeping on an air mattress and the couch in the middle of Mike and Will’s apartment and Mike couldn’t be more thrilled.
“Are we the first ones here?” Will’s mom asks, also a little out of breath.
“Yeah, so far,” Mike is quick to respond. “Dustin’s flight from Chicago gets in around noon, I think. I’m going to pick him up. Lucas and Max are driving over from San Francisco.”
“Dustin’s flight gets in at one,” Will says, stepping out into the main room.
“Oh, right,” Mike gets that rare, bashful smile of his that Will hates that he loves so much.
“Will, honey,” Will’s mom smiles brightly, quickly crossing the room. “It’s so good to see you!”
“You too, mom,” Will chuckles, letting her wrap him in her arms like old times. He’s a lot taller than her now. It’s sort of weird, having to lean over her for a hug. But it still feels the same as it always has. Like nothing could ever go wrong.
“Oh, look at you,” she beams, taking a step back and holding his face in her hands. “You look all grown up.”
“Mom,” Will can’t help but blush.
He glances towards Mike, who’s got this teasing, lop-sided grin on his lips that makes Will roll his eyes.
“Hey, kid,” Hopper says next, his hug is sort of rough as he pulls Will into his chest. Hopper’s technically his dad now after the wedding last fall but Will still hasn’t wrapped his head around that. Not that Hopper isn’t great or anything. It’s hard not to appreciate the guy who saved him from the Upside Down, the Mind Flayer, so on and so forth. It’s just hard to have any sort of fatherly relationship after Lonnie. “Have you been hitting the gym?”
“What? No one says that,” Will chuckles, forcing himself not to look in Mike’s direction this time.
“Well you’ve gotten strong, kid,” Hopper chuckles, slapping him on the shoulder and taking a step back.
“Gross,” Will mutters, knowing he’s blushing again. He hates that Mike is standing there and witnessing all of this. “I haven’t been hitting the gym.”
“Just boxing,” Mike teases, finally pulling Will’s eyes in his direction. He’s got this smug look on his face like that’s what he was hoping for, his eyebrows wiggling.
“Shut up,” Will rolls his eyes. Mike’s grin grows across his lips, Will shaking his head and ignoring the way Mike moves closer like he doesn’t even mean to. Like two magnets being pulled together.
“Honey, you box?” Will’s mom asks, her brows furrowed. Mike giggles, clearly picking up on just how unbelievable she seems to find that.
“Sometimes. When I’m stressed,” Will shrugs, realizing Mike is fully by his side now. Giving Will the perfect opportunity to grab his arm and mutter, “You’re such a jerk,” before shoving him away.
Mike’s laugh is this warm sound that floats across their apartment and makes Will feel on top of the world, not that he needs to focus on that with his mom and Hopper standing in front of them.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” his mom frowns, always so genuine. Will glances at Mike again, raising his eyebrows in hopes that he’ll maybe feel a little bad for where he’s led this conversation. The smile on Mike’s lips says he doesn’t, not even a little bit. “Is this some dirty joke I’m missing?”
“No!” Will exclaims, immediately tearing his eyes away from Mike. “God, mom. Gross.”
“Okay. Sorry,” she laughs, looking at Hopper for backup. She clearly thinks she’s missing something here, which she isn’t. Will hates attention and Mike likes to torture him, that’s all.
“I just don’t like talking about it,” Will sighs. He nervously runs a hand through his hair, still doing everything in his power not to look over at Mike again. It's not that he's even gotten all that strong. Half the time Will thinks people just expect him to still be some scrawny kid and are surprised he has some muscle.
“Okay,” she raises her arms in defeat, though she still seems sort of confused.
Will looks away, wanting to find something to distract himself with. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see Hopper plopping down on the old couch that came with the apartment. The people moving out bought a new one, evidently tired of the navy, floral cushions. Will thought it was sort of disgusting at first, but he’s grown to love it.
Except now. Suddenly he hates those old and worn cushions that easily swallow things he drops on the couch.
“Is this yours?” Hopper raises his eyebrows, looking over at Mike with a plastic bag between his fingers that he yanked out of the cushions. Fuck, Will is so screwed.
“No,” Mike snorts, sounding so casual as he says it. Like a police chief isn’t sitting in front of him holding up a bag of weed. Mike glances at Will, seeming to process how bad this actually is. He swallows, straightening his shoulders and immediately turning back towards Hopper. “Or, I mean, yeah. Totally. Sorry. Didn’t realize I left that there.”
“Will,” his mom gasps, her eyes wide.
“Someone must’ve forgot it here, I dunno,” Will huffs, reaching for the bag and trying to play casual.
But Hopper pulls it back, keeping it out of Will’s grasp. He shakes his head, getting to his feet and stepping around Will and Mike like it’s nothing. He moves into their bathroom, dumping the contents into the toilet and flushing it without a second thought.
“Oh my god,” Will mutters, leaning into Mike’s shoulder. “That was, like, fifty bucks.”
“That’s on you, dude,” Mike snorts, lifting his shoulder once in this teasing way so Will's head bounces.
“I thought you did a final check of the apartment last night!” Will just argues, keeping his voice quiet so his parents don’t overhear him.
“I did!” Mike laughs, lowering his voice too. “I hid the alcohol in—”
A cabinet door opens in their kitchen, Mike immediately falling silent as they turn to look in Hopper’s direction. It’s a small kitchen and there were only five doors Hopper had to choose from but somehow he guessed the exact one Mike was talking about. Maybe that’s universally the ‘secret alcohol’ cabinet or maybe they’re really unlucky. Either way, they’re so incredibly screwed.
“For fuck’s sake,” Will whines into the sleeve of Mike’s shirt, tilting his head and wincing slightly at the sight of Hopper popping the lid off of a bottle. He moves it towards the sink, Will hiding away in the soft fabric.
“No, Hop,” Mike’s the one to argue this time, sounding way more desperate than he should given the circumstances. “Please don’t. We’re, like, broke college students. That’s not fair.”
“You’re not,” Hopper raises his eyebrows at him, pointing the open bottle in his direction. “You’re living off of Ted Wheeler’s money and I’m sure he wouldn’t be thrilled to find out you’re spending it on Smirnoff of all things.”
“We’re almost twenty-one,” Will says, leaning away from Mike with a sigh. He gives Hopper this pleading look, one that usually works on his mom. But she’s pretty easy to convince. “Please just don’t.”
Hopper sighs, staring back at Will. He glances at Will’s mom too before shaking his head and screwing the lid back onto the bottle. Will’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of Hopper sitting it back with the other bottles, slamming the door closed. “If I smell even a drop of liquor on you this week I’m dumping it all.”
“Deal,” Will nods quickly, glancing in Mike’s direction. When Mike doesn’t say anything Will nudges him in the side.
“Yeah, sure,” Mike swallows, not sounding all that convincing. He’s the one to lean against Will this time, turning so his lips are only inches away from Will’s ear. Will desperately tries to ignore the feeling of warm breath against his neck. “We’re never inviting them over again.”
“I’m never letting Jonathan and Nance host Thanksgiving again,” Will mutters back, making Mike laugh softly.
“You realize this is all highly addictive and illegal, don’t you?” Hopper raises his voice slightly, clearly hating that they’re whispering again. Will and Mike have this problem where they tend to think they’re the only ones in a room that matter. Will can’t help it. When he’s with Mike he can’t focus on anything else. Mike, on the other hand, is just really conceited.
“Yes, Chief,” Mike nods, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing. Hopper raises his eyebrows, completely unimpressed. That makes Mike inhale and actually get slightly serious for once. “I mean, yes, sir. Um… Mr. Hopper. We’re sorry.”
“Mr. Hopper?” Will whispers, laughing in Mike’s ear. It’s Mike who shoves him hard this time, Will stumbling across the ‘historic wood’ floor.
The buzzer echoes through their apartment again, Mike letting out the same breath he was holding from the whole alcohol ordeal.
“Oh, thank god,” he sighs, his shoulders relaxing a bit.
“That’s probably Jonathan,” Will says, starting to smile a bit. Jonathan’s one of the few people he really loves having over. Not that he doesn’t want his mom and Hopper here, it’s just way less pressure with his older brother. “I’ll go get him.”
“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” Mike says a bit desperately.
“No, I—” Will tries to argue back, also desperate to get some air.
“Why don’t you let Mike get it, honey?” his mom smiles, sitting on one of the barstools at their kitchen counter. Hopper sits next to her, his smile slightly less genuine. He’s definitely not getting over the weed and alcohol ordeal anytime soon. “So we have more time to catch up with you. It’s been so long since we’ve seen you.”
“Like, four months,” Will laughs softly. He glances in Mike’s direction, turning him away from his parents and giving him the opportunity to send Mike a quick, playful glare. Mike smirks in response, sticking out his tongue in the quick second he has where no one but Will is watching him. Will snorts. “Yeah, real mature.”
Mike just grins, leaving the door unlocked as he steps out into the hall and pulls it shut behind him.
“So,” Will’s mom breathes the second the door closes. “You two seem close.”
“What?” Will frowns, turning to face her. He knows what she’s getting at, really not wanting to have this conversation again. He swears they have it every time she sees him. “Mom, we’ve been best friends since we were five. Of course we’re close.”
“But you’ve living together now,” she doesn’t back down this time. Instead she glances at Hopper like this is something they’ve talked about, a horrifying thought. “Karen and I were wondering if that, you know, means anything.”
“No!” Will exclaims, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. “Jesus, mom! We’re just friends!”
“Honey, you were leaning all over him,” she smiles in this way that says ‘It’s okay, Will. Just admit it.’
Will sighs, needing to do something with his hand and running it through his hair to distract himself. It’s definitely getting even messier, something he’ll worry about later. “Mom, I’d tell you if we were together, okay? But Mike’s straight. That’s… It’ll never happen.”
“But you—” she keeps pressing him.
“Mom, please,” Will practically begs, his voice sounding way too desperate.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll drop it,” she frowns like she still doesn’t fully believe him. She takes a deep breath, her gaze softening again. Her voice is quiet, cautious, like somehow all of New York can hear her. “Are there any other boys you’ve met?”
“No, mom,” Will mutters, his face probably as red as a tomato at this point.
“You haven’t met anyone?” she almost looks sad, like she pities him or something. There’s weight to her words too, that reminder of what it means to be gay in New York in the early '90s. Really not something Will wants to talk about right now, especially not with his mom and Hopper.
Even without that weight he’s not about to tell her about his year and a half with Carlton or his few months with Emmett or any of the relationships he’s had that haven’t ended up meaning anything. Because that just leads them back to the first conversation he’s trying to avoid. That Will can’t get over Mike and maybe never will, instead ruining every relationship that might go somewhere for the rest of his life.
“You can tell me, honey,” she adds, that expression only intensifying.
The door opens behind him, Will immediately feeling his shoulders relax.
“Thank god,” he breathes, hurrying across the small apartment and pulling Jonathan into a hug. “Save me. She’s asking about boyfriends.”
Jonathan snorts, hugging him back. “You’re so lame.”
“I hate you,” Will mutters in return.
Jonathan grins, ruffling Will’s hair and making Will duck away from him. He laughs softly as he walks towards the kitchen, almost looking sort of nervous as he smiles at their mom and Hopper. “Hey guys. It’s been forever.”
“Oh, Jonathan,” their mom immediately gets to her feet, pulling him into a tight hug. “You need to visit more. We’ve missed you so much.”
“I know,” Jonathan swallows, his way of admitting it has been too long. So that’s why he’s nervous.
“Good to see you, kid,” Hopper adds, him and Jonathan exchanging a slightly awkward hug. They’ve never gotten along all that well, even though Hopper tries. It probably doesn’t help that Jonathan hates authority figures, especially cops. Someone probably let it slip that Jonathan made a short film called Manhattan's Pigs. It was really good. He'll never admit it himself, but Jonathan is a great filmmaker.
“So, Mike,” Will’s mom says, getting that worrying smile that means she’s about to ask something personal again. Mike shifts on his feet, definitely noticing it too. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Mike laughs once, glancing at Will for backup he knows he won’t get.
“How’s school been? Any new girlfriends we should know about?”
“Um, wow,” Mike chuckles, the one to nervously run a hand through his hair this time. Will can’t help but watch the way black curls tangle around his fingers. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look away and sending Jonathan a glare for noticing. The thing is, Mike never talks about girls, at least not with Will around. “Classes are good. I’m studying Creative Writing now.”
“That’s a big switch from Business,” Hopper says, feeling the need to be a part of this conversation. It’s sort of funny. Mike and Hopper have always had a pretty strained relationship too. It’s weird to see him trying.
“Yeah,” Mike laughs awkwardly. “I mean, I never really wanted to study Business. That was just my dad.”
“Writing sounds wonderful,” Will’s mom beams like she really means it. Will’s lucky to have an incredibly supportive mom, even if she is a bit overprotective. She never once tried to steer him away from art school. “You’ve always been such a good storyteller. Especially with those little games you used to put on. Demons and… What was it?”
“Dungeons and Dragons,” Will grins, watching Mike get that usual, lop-sided smile of his that he gets when he’s genuinely happy.
“Thanks, Mrs. Byers,” Mike says, his cheeks turning this soft pink.
“Can I see what you’ve been working on?” Jonathan motions towards the stack of canvases in the corner, his voice quiet. Letting their mom continue to interrogate Mike without them listening.
“Sure,” Will shrugs, watching his brother walk over to his little corner of art supplies.
“Oh, I’d love to see,” their mom evidently doesn’t realize what Jonathan is doing. She gets to her feet, following Jonathan and kneeling on the ground next to the group of canvases stacked in the corner. Will can’t even remember what half of them are.
“How are classes going for both of you?” Hopper asks, dragging Mike and Will into a conversation neither of them want to have. He definitely feels like he has to talk, even though Will would be fine putting on a tape on and sitting in silence. “You’re both keeping your grades up?”
“Yeah, they’re good,” Mike nods, hands tucked awkwardly in his pockets. “Grades are good.”
“Isn’t this from Dead Poet’s Society?” Jonathan interrupts them, thank god, even if that’s something Will really wishes he didn’t say. Mike turns in his direction as Jonathan starts to lift up one of the canvases.
“Shit, don’t—" Will exclaims, hurrying over and grabbing the edge of it to stop Jonathan from turning it completely.
“Jesus, what?” Jonathan laughs, lowering it back to the floor.
“That’s supposed to be a surprise,” Will mutters, sending him a glare. He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "I knew I should've left that in my studio."
“A surprise?” Jonathan snorts.
“Wait, is that what you’re painting for my birthday?” Mike’s face lights up, leaning to the side like he’s trying to sneak a look at it. Will just huffs and blocks his view.
“Sorry,” Jonathan sounds like he means it, which is good enough for Will. He knows it was an accident, even if he had been really excited to surprise Mike completely.
“It’s Mike’s favorite movie,” Will adds, sitting the canvas in the very back behind the others.
“Oh. That’s… depressing,” Jonathan frowns. He looks around Will to where Mike is standing in the kitchen, definitely listening. Mike inhales, glancing down at his feet and pretending he’s not.
“Oh, honey, this is wonderful,” Will’s mom thankfully changes the subject, turning around another canvas. Will’s heart drops in his chest at the sight of it. He groans, covering his face with his hands and falling back onto the old couch.
“Holy shit, Will,” Mike exclaims, sounding happy at least. “When did you paint that?”
“You sat for it, you dumbass,” Will mutters and slowly lowers his hands, hating that his cheeks are bright red again.
“Yeah, and then you said you fucked up the proportions and scrapped it,” Mike grins, actually looking sort of thrilled as he walks over to them.
“You kids really need to work on your language,” Hopper grumbles from across the apartment where he’s definitely snooping for more drugs hidden in plain sight. There’s nothing else to find, at least. Just the cigarettes hidden in Will’s bedside table.
“Okay, no more looking through my paintings,” Will huffs.
“Wait, hold on,” Mike laughs, stopping Will’s mom from putting it away. “I wanna see it.”
Will groans but doesn’t stop him, staring at his feet instead of watching Mike pick up the canvas and hold it in front of him.
'Sorry,' his mom mouths from where she’s sitting on the floor. Will shakes his head in response.
Mike ignores them, sitting down next to Will and tilting the canvas so he can see it too. As if he’s not the one who stared at it for hours to get the proportions perfected. It’s a portrait of Mike, of course, a setting sun shining on his face. He’s wearing this silver armor that reflects the deep reds and oranges of the evening sky.
“You made him look so beautiful, honey,” Will’s mom decides to say for some reason. Maybe trying to play wingman or something, god knows why. Will just wants to lock himself in his room and scream into his pillow.
He glances over at Mike, surprised to see his face has gone all red under his scattered freckles.
“You’re never sitting for me again,” Will mutters, leaning closer.
“What?” Mike laughs, but it comes out quiet and almost nervous. “Dude, it’s good. I mean, your mom’s right. I’m not that, uh, ‘beautiful.’ But I like it.”
“I just painted what I saw,” Will shrugs. Mike immediately turns in his direction, his brows furrowing slightly. “I mean…”
“How about we go somewhere for breakfast?” Jonathan offers, getting to his feet and clapping his hands together. Will feels his shoulders relax slightly, immediately sending Jonathan a ‘thank you’ look he means a million times over.