Chapter Text
Several mistakes had led Mike to this moment.
He’d let his mom take him dress shopping. Nancy hadn’t had any interest in coming along, thank god, but Holly had. And the stress of a four year old inevitably melting down half an hour into their store trip had resulted in his mother snatching the most god awful dress off the rack and shoving it at him, urging him to go try it on as she wrangled Holly. Mike had been struck mute upon seeing himself in the mirror, stomach twisting itself into knots, and he hadn’t managed to muster any sort of response when his mother asked him, hardly paying attention at that point, if he liked it. She’d been stressed enough with Holly, her voice tense in that way that he knew meant she was one wrong word from snapping, so he’d swallowed down his feelings and nodded. He couldn’t have said he didn’t like it, anyway, because then he’d have had to admit he didn’t like any of them, and then she would’ve gotten mad at him for wasting their time.
Despite her initial disinterest in the middle school dance, Nancy had been a little too excited at the prospect of helping Mike get ready, so he’d once again bit his tongue and nodded when she asked. He’d sat still as she messed with his hair, complaining idly about how short he kept it, how she couldn’t really work with it, and he’d tried to ignore the way it made his chest hurt. He’d screwed his eyes shut and held his breath while she did his makeup, swatting his nose with the brush and teasing him for being so tense.
Saying yes to going to the dance in the first place had been a mistake, honestly.
But his biggest mistake by far was saying yes to going with Will.
He stood in his bathroom, half an hour to go until Jonathan came to pick up him and Nancy, and he couldn’t breathe right. A stranger was staring back in the mirror, all dolled up like one of Holly’s toys. Or maybe a clown was more accurate. Nancy had painted his lips bright pink, his eyelids blue to match the dress, and she’d brushed out his curls to pin his hair to the side with a big bow. The dress itself was a ghastly sight, with shoulder pads and ruffles.
He didn’t look like him.
And he was scared, terrified, that Will was going to like it.
He drew in a breath, and it stuttered in his chest, tears biting his eyes and itching his throat. The heavy makeup around his eyes only aggravated the problem, and tears began to well, moisture building up and dribbling over, taking globs of mascara with them and streaking down his blush-powdered cheeks. This only made him feel worse, the sight of all Nancy’s hard work quickly ruining itself, and he started to cry harder.
He was trembling there, breath hitching with tears covering his face, when there was a knock at the door.
“Maggie?” His mother hissed, mumbling something to herself, before trying again. “MJ? Honey, Jonathan and Will will be here soon. Are you ready?”
The reminder only made the tears fall faster.
“Sweetheart?”
He started to shake his head as his mom eased the door open, hands lifting to cup the sides of his face. They shifted as she drew closer, and he hid behind them, digging his fingers into his hairline and threading them through to tug at his roots. He sobbed, and he shivered, cowering over the sink.
A hand rested on his shoulder.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t-“ Mike choked on another sob, shaking like a leaf. “I can’t let him see me like this, Mom.”
He’d had to earn Lucas and Dustin’s respect. They’d seen him as a girl first, and he’d worked his way toward his status as a friend, a fellow Party member. They’d still been young enough that the idea of a girl running the show and playing outside in the dirt had thrown them off. Lucas had been easy at six, Dustin a little less at ten, right in the cooties stage, but he’d done it. They didn’t see him any differently now, except when he had to grab pads from his backpack, or when he had to change into his pajamas by himself at sleepovers.
He’d never had to do that with Will. He didn’t have to earn him. Will had been his best friend from day one, no matter who he was, and Mike was- he was terrified this would change that. That seeing Mike in a dress like this would flick some switch in Will’s brain, and he’d start being weird like other guys in his class had been weird, now that all anybody cared about was boyfriends and girlfriends. That it would remind him Mike was different, that Mike was a girl, and Will wasn’t supposed to want to be his best friend.
“Who, sweetie?” Karen asked patiently, crouched down beside him. “Will?” Mike hiccuped, nodding. A little crease formed between her eyebrows. “Why? Honey, you look beautiful.”
“No,” Mike sobbed, shaking his head again and babbling. “No, no, no…”
“Hey, hey,” she hummed, brushing a hand through his hair. She turned him to face her better, and her eyes flicked over his face, searching. She held him there for a moment, hands on his shoulders, then moved them to his face, wiping at his tears. “Here. Let’s get you fixed up.”
Mike drew in a breath, hands curling into small fists at his sides. He let her guide him to the closed toilet seat, and he sat, dropping his fists on the silky skirt of the dress. He stared down at it as she stood, moving to the medicine cabinet and collecting a few things. She returned a moment later, makeup wipes in hand, and he closed his eyes again, letting her get to work.
“Why don’t you want him to see you?” She asked patiently, dabbing gently at his cheeks.
“I-“ He didn’t know if she would get it. But she was a better bet than Nancy. Nancy would definitely tell him he was being ridiculous. Holly was still basically just a baby, his dad didn’t care, Lucas and Dustin were out of the question, and- and the only other person he talked about things with was Will, and he couldn’t.
Right now, Will was the last person he wanted to see.
“I’m scared,” he admitted quietly. “I’m scared he’s gonna think I look better like this, and he’s gonna change his mind about me.”
“Well,” she hummed softly. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. Will’s a sweetheart, and he likes you just the way you are. And you’re still you, even under all that makeup.”
Something twisted in his chest. He’d been feeling weird around Will lately, and he realized, with a sinking feeling, that his fears might not have just been about Will.
“I’m scared he likes me,” he whispered, digging his nails into his palms. He thought of the blush painted across Will’s face when he’d asked him, as friends- he’d hammered that part home, and his face had gotten redder and redder, and Mike’s heart had raced faster and faster- if he wanted to go to the dance together. He thought of the way his stomach flipped as he answered. “And he wants to- to be boyfriend and girlfriend, or something.”
His mom didn’t reply right away this time. She took a moment, rubbing gently at his eyelids, before she paused, and he fought the urge to open them.
“Would that be bad?” She asked carefully. “He’s very sweet. He’s handsome. And he’s a very loyal friend. I’ll admit, if you had to pick one of your friends to date, I’d be happy if it’s him. He’s always been good to you.”
Mike finally pried his eyes open, staring up at his mother with a sick feeling curdling in his gut.
“He’s my best friend,” he protested.
“Some people say that your partner should be your best friend,” she admitted, something sad and wistful in her eyes. “If you’re lucky.”
Like Jonathan and Nancy, she probably meant. Since Barb, Jonathan was Nancy’s only friend.
Mike shook his head, imploring her to understand.
“It’s different,” he insisted. “Lucas and Max. Lucas treats Max differently than he treats the rest of us. They’re weird, and before they got to know each other, him and Dustin talked about her like…” Like she was a prize to be won. Like all the other guys in their grade talked about girls. “Like she wasn’t even a real person. I can’t, Mom. I don’t want Will to see me different.”
Karen softened some, head tilted to the side. She dropped the wipes in the trash can by the sink, and she hummed to herself.
“I think,” she said softly, brushing a hand through his hair, and the bow gave with a little click. She set it on the side of the sink, threading her fingers through to ruffle his brushed out curls. “That everything’s going to be okay. Okay? And-“ She tucked some of his hair behind his ear. “If tonight doesn’t go well, all you need to do is phone home, and I’ll come and pick you up. We can watch a movie after I put Holly to bed. That sound nice?”
Mike blinked, surprised by how easy she made it sound. He was used to being pushed into these sorts of things. Nancy was certainly pushy, and his mom didn’t usually have the time or patience to intervene. She was always waving him off, telling him to listen to his sister, always pouring all her attention into Holly. At 13 years old, Mike was starting to realize that the baby was more a replacement than anything, a new play thing now that the golden child was too old and Mike wasn’t what they wanted.
He nodded quickly, almost grabbing for her in his urgency, but he held himself back. He let himself be lifted from the seat, and he let her steer him toward the sink. He looked measurably better, now that his face was clean of any makeup. He didn’t say a word as she gently nudged him forward, holding his head down in the bowl of the sink. She started up the water, and he squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a breath and holding it.
The water quickly soaked through his hair, and her nails trailed across his scalp, gentle but firm. She kneaded circles into his roots, making certain she got everything wet, and then she was turning off the faucet and grabbing a towel. He made a face as she trapped him inside it, rubbing it over his head and blocking off his sight.
“There,” she hummed eventually, and he was freed, head popping up from the towel. Now halfway dry, his hair was springing into soft curls again. “That’s better.”
Mike stared at the mirror.
“Why don’t we find you something more comfortable?”
“What-“ He blinked, and he looked up at his mother‘s reflection, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “But you bought this for me. You spent all that money.”
She shook her head.
“Honey, I can tell just looking at you that you don’t like it,” she admitted. “I should’ve noticed at the store. I’m sorry I didn’t.” She smoothed a hand over his curls, planting a kiss to the top of his head. She didn’t have much height on him anymore, and she’d lose what she had left over the next couple months. By summer, he’d pass her up, and he’d tower over her by the end of freshman year.
For now, though, she could comfortably rest her chin on top of his curls.
“Come on,” she prompted, draping her arms around him and giving him a tight squeeze. “I have just the thing.”
Mike hadn’t really set foot in his parents’ room since his mom left. He hadn’t set foot in there at all, actually, not since he was little and his mom would let him crawl into bed after a nightmare. It was sort of an off limits zone, not because of any actual rule, but because his parents themselves had felt like they were off limits to him since he was probably around eight years old.
So he didn’t really have a point of reference to compare to, standing in the doorway and wondering how much it had changed since she left. It was still neat. Everything was still in its proper place, the way Karen always kept it. She kept the whole house tidy, almost obsessively, and it had only really started to look lived in since she’d been gone.
Mike wondered, sweeping the room as he hovered awkwardly at the threshold, if his dad even used it anymore. He was always up early for work, and he sat in his recliner long after they all were supposed to be in bed, mindlessly scrolling the channels.
Maybe he just slept there.
The sheets were made, undisturbed, and some of his mother’s things were still exactly where she’d left them, like she’d died or something. She’d left a lot behind, he realized quietly, eyeing the dresser in the corner. There was a jewelry box- a wedding gift. Its contents- anniversaries. Some occasion had occurred shortly before she left, some cause for gifts, and a vase was sat on top of the table runner. Long rotted flowers drooped over the edges, dead petals dropped haphazardly onto the white doily fabric and turned to ash.
Her wedding ring sat neatly on the center of the dresser.
Mike swallowed, eyes flicking to where his father was rummaging through his own closet. He wondered, with a faint pang of guilt, if being in this room was painful for him.
“Now, it might be a little big on you, son,” Ted said, not bothering to call over his shoulder, so it was half-muffled in the contents of the closet. “I was an athlete in school. But you’re around the same height I was, and I had more of a lean build, so it should be fine.”
“Uh-huh,” Mike agreed, bobbing his head in an absent nod. He couldn’t help his curiosity, morbid in nature, as he kept glancing around the room. It felt like he was standing in the middle of an open wound. The rest of the house had started to heal, scabbing over in a tentative, easily picked open sort of way. They were healing. The house itself seemed too big sometimes, too off, but they were starting to fill it with new memories.
Like this. Ted digging through his old suit closet (and what a picket fence suburban father thing to do, hold onto every suit he’d ever owned, even thirty years down the line) so that his son could wear one to his senior prom.
It was Mike’s idea. Will was using Jonathan’s, of course- Hopper had always been tall and muscular, and he’d sold most of his old suits during a rough patch after his daughter died- and Mike hadn’t wanted to bother anyone about trying to buy something new. He couldn’t think of another occasion to wear something like this, besides graduation, and anyway, he’d stumbled upon this picture of his dad a couple days ago, back in his high school days, and like…
They sort of looked alike.
Ted was just about all gray now, but his hair was dark when he was young, only a little lighter than Mike’s. And, in comparison to Holly’s blonde, his mom and Nancy’s warm brown, that was pretty darn close. His face was more square, but Mike’s jaw was supposed to sharpen now that he was taking testosterone, and he and Nancy both already had those sharp cheekbones. He had the same long nose, and he squinted at the camera the same, like he’d rather be shot than pose for a picture.
And Mike- three weeks on T, sweaty and awkward and still in a sort of vulnerable spot emotionally- had decided that he actually wanted to try and relate to his dad.
Which was wild. A big part of his struggle with his identity when he was a kid was how much he couldn’t click with his mom, or any of the women in his life, but he’d never really been drawn to his dad either. Instead, he’d followed Jonathan Byers around like a second little brother. And as far as male role models went, he was a pretty damn good one. He was why Will had turned out so great. Jonathan was good because he’d looked at the prominent man in his life, his good for nothing father, and he’d decided to be the exact fucking opposite.
“Here,” Ted said finally, pulling a suit out by the hanger and dusting it off with a swipe of his hand. He gave it a little shake, adjusted his glasses, leaned closer with narrowed, scrutinizing eyes, then turned to his son. “This should work.”
“Okay.” Mike was a little twitchy when he reached out, a little too excited and nervous at the same time. He still wasn’t even sure if he’d be allowed to wear this thing to prom- they might turn him away at the door. Middle school dances hadn’t cared about who wore what, but this was high school. This was prom. He’d heard horror stories about girls in pants being denied entry, told to go change or go home.
He took the suit and held it up, careful with it like it was made of fine china. It was a little dated- it was probably dated when his dad wore it too, he’d dressed like an old man his whole life- but it was nice. The fabric was a little rough and wooly on the outside, the kind that picked up lint like velcro, but he could see that the inside was smooth and silky. Vertical stripes went right from the shoulders down to the ends of the matching pants, and it was a sort of off gray, brownish color.
It was awesome.
He was so totally going to roast in this thing.
“Here’s the tie that went with it,” Ted added, and he pulled out a thin black one from a bin at the top of the closet. “And you’re welcome to any of my undershirts. Did you need anything else?”
“Uh, nope,” Mike said, holding the tie up to the suit. It was definitely his dad’s. He was going to look like an accountant.
“Right.” Ted hmph’d to himself, nose twitching, and he walked past his son, offering a hardy pat to his shoulder as he did. “If you need me, I’ll be downstairs.”
Mike opened his mouth to protest- he’d leave the room to change, his dad didn’t have to, it was his dad’s room- but he clacked it shut just as quick, watching his dad shuffle out and shut the door behind him.
He eyed those dead flowers again. The wedding ring.
Not for the first time, something bitter and angry festered in the pit of his stomach, but he squashed it down. This was supposed to be a good day. Getting worked up over the past, over shit he couldn’t control, wasn’t going to do anybody any good.
“There,” his mom hummed, smoothing her hands over his shoulders after he’d pulled the sweater over his head. She grinned. “That’s the smile I was missing.”
Mike buttoned the undershirt up to the top, and he shrugged the suit jacket over one shoulder, glancing at his reflection in his mom’s vanity. He slipped it on the rest of the way, and it did sit a little big on him, but it wasn’t too bad. The shoulders looked a little goofy, and the jacket reached a little lower than it was supposed to, but it still looked good. The matching pants helped it blend together better, took the attention away from the too-wide shoulders, and the bigger size helped swallow his frame and hide the awkward curves of his body. He looked put together, adult.
He looked like a young man.
Mike drew a breath, smoothing his hands down over the wooly fabric. He brushed his fingers through his hair, tousling it a bit. The tie sat on the edge of the bed, and he snatched it up as he walked past, quick to leave the soul-sucking grave of a bedroom and hurry down the stairs. As promised, his dad was in the living room, one again sat in his recliner.
“Hey,” Mike greeted, holding the tie out and letting it fall out of its careful roll. “Could you help me with this?”
Ted grunted, waving him over as he eased himself up from the cushions. He didn’t watch him come over, too busy slowly putting down the foot rest, but he squinted up at him through his glasses once he was standing there. He hmph’d again.
“Doesn’t look half bad,” he offered, holding his hands out for the tie. Mike handed it over, and he crouched down, a sort of awkward half squat as his dad perched on the edge of his seat. Ted looped the tie around his neck, crossed it over itself, then frowned. “I haven’t done this on someone else. Probably easier if you turn around, I can do it like it’s me.”
“Kay.”
Mike spun around, letting himself lean back against the chair to keep upright. His dad shifted back, fiddling with the tie again, and he started to carefully cross one side over the other, movements memorized and mechanical. It looped behind, tucked back, looped across again. Mike balanced his arms on his knees, watching the floor.
Another loop, and his dad carefully stuffed the longer piece through the knot, tapping his shoulder to get him to turn around. He fiddled with it some more once Mike was facing him, pulling it tight and making sure his collar looked right. His brow creased, peering down his nose at his son, and he brushed him off.
“There,” he said, leaning back, but one hand was still on Mike’s shoulder. “That looks fine.”
“Just fine?” Mike joked, a hesitant smile on his lips. Movement caught his eye, and he glanced past his dad. Nancy was standing in the hall, watching them with a soft smile.
Ted hummed.
“You look good,” he offered, an attempt at sincerity. “Handsome. You look like my son.” Mike blinked, something warm swelling in his chest. Ted patted his shoulder. “So. You’re welcome.”
A startled laugh punched from his lungs, and he made a funny face, eyes flicking between his dad’s.
“Thanks,” he said slowly. “I think.”
Ted gave him a firm nod and a wink.
“Knock ‘em dead.”
Somehow, waiting for Will to pull up in Hop’s beat up old pickup was more nerve-wracking than it had been when he was 13, when it was Jonathan driving Joyce’s Ford Pinto with a pre-growth spurt Will in the passenger seat. Much like the last time, Mike passed the minutes fretting on his living room couch. The same sorts of insecurities, given the time to grow and deepen their roots as he’d gotten older, swirled through his head, and he tried his best to stuff them down. He tugged at his sleeves, curled forward over his knees, dragged his hands through his hair before fretting some more and trying to fix it.
Holly popped up beside him, peering through the window with wide eyes.
“Will’s here!” She announced, and she was off in a flash, leaving Mike to flail and reach after her, nearly falling off the couch in his urgency. His aborted “wait” went ignored, and before he could even stand up properly, his sister was throwing the door open.
And there he was, Will Byers- Mike’s best friend and boyfriend- stepping through the door with a quiet thanks.
Mike forgot how to breathe for a moment.
Jonathan’s old suit fit Will like a glove, and his hair was out of his eyes, gelled so his bangs did a little swoop to the side instead. He had a green carnation tucked into the pocket of his jacket, and another in his hands, where he was nervously twisting it between his fingers. He’d swapped out Nancy’s old earrings for a shiny new set, and it showed, because his ear lobes were just about as red as his face.
And, if Mike looked close enough, he’d almost swear that Will had just the slightest bit of eyeliner, just enough to make his eyes pop more- stage makeup, Dustin would call it. It made Mike’s heart pound violently against his ribs.
Those eyes found his, wide and vulnerable and sparkling, and Mike finally took a breath, lungs burning. Wow.
“Are you guys gonna make out?” Holly asked, and the moment shattered, both teens turning to look at the kid. Her arms were crossed, an almost expectant look on her face, and Mike-
Mike spluttered, face heating up.
“Holly.”
“What?” She huffed, hip popped to the side in a dangerous omen of the attitude he was sure would only worsen over the next few years. “I’m nine, not stupid. I know what couples do. I’ve seen Nancy and Jonathan.”
“Okay!” Nancy called, swooping into the room and scooping her up, earning a startled cry from the girl as she draped her over her shoulder like a bag of flour. Holly squawked some more, not one to go down without a fight, but it was a fruitless effort. Nancy could match her energy and then some. The older girl smiled, looking between the two boys. “Have fun. Don’t stay out too late. I’d say behave yourselves-” Mike groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “-but I’m not a hypocrite, and I trust you. You’re adults. Just don’t do anything stupid, like drinking too much punch then getting behind the wheel.”
“It’s a school sanctioned event,” Mike reminded her. “They aren’t gonna serve alcohol.”
Nancy hummed, raising her eyebrows with pursed lips. She offered a gentle pat on his arm.
“Will,” she said, giving the boy a sideways look. “Keep an eye on him. Don’t let him touch the punch bowl.”
Mike shot her a glare, but Will nodded, offering a joking salute.
“On it.”
“Hey.”
The bright smile on Will’s lips made it hard to be mad at him, teasing or not. Mike’s gaze swept over him again, and his heart skipped, stomach swooping. Nancy hummed to herself again, patting Holly’s back absentmindedly with a wickedly knowing look on her face.
“I’ll get this one to bed,” she said simply, waving a hand. Holly kicked at her, struggling against her grip.
“I’m not a baby, put me down.”
“Oh, wait!” Nancy called, wincing as Holly landed a particularly hard blow. “Pictures!”
“We’ll get them at the school!” Mike said quickly, but luck had never exactly been on his side.
Mike remembered posing for what felt like hours for his mom, standing stiff on these same steps with Will beside him, with his hand sitting awkwardly at his waist while Mike grimaced at the camera. He’d held his tongue- he’d felt like he owed his mom at that point, since she’d let him go in a nice sweater and dress pants instead of that god awful dress- and he’d tried not to lose his mind over how warm and itchy Will’s hand felt on his hip. Those pictures were terrible, and he’d hated them for years, but…
But they were part of their story, right alongside the ones from Merrill’s pumpkin patch and Halloween, and Will’s painting. They’d end up in a scrapbook years down the line, pasted in with these prom pictures and their graduation ones, with sonograms and yearbook pictures and polaroids from a one year old’s birthday party in 1990.
Besides, no picture could be truly terrible if Will was in it.
“Bye!” Holly cried, clinging onto Nancy’s pant leg as Mike raced after Will down the sidewalk toward the driveway, only just barely escaping Nancy’s pleas for just one more. Holly waved her arm wide over her head, hopping up onto her tiptoes. “Have fun! Be good!” Mike tossed open the passenger side door of Hopper’s truck, turning to wave back at his sister just as she let go of Nancy to cup her hands on either side of her mouth. “Love you!!”
“I love you too!” Mike shouted back, climbing backwards into the seat. Holly moved like she might start down the sidewalk after him, and Nancy scooped her up again, an arm looped around her waist.
“Bye, Will!” She called, legs swinging aimlessly. “Bye!”
“Bye, Holls!” Will yelled over top of the truck, perched with one foot midair, the other balanced on the inside of the driver’s side. He waved an arm over his head, then he slid inside, yanking the door shut behind him. He turned to Mike with a wide smile. “She’s adorable.”
“She’s a menace,” Mike said, not so much a correction as an additional adjective. “You better start moving, or we’re going to get there and she’ll be hiding in the back.” He playfully pushed at his arm, shooting a wary glance over his shoulder. “Go.”
He did. Mike leaned back in his seat, and Will pulled out of the driveway, ever the responsible driver as he looked both ways before starting down the street, both hands on the wheel. Once they were a little ways down the street, Mike’s house shrinking in the background, he dropped his hand onto the center console.
Mike’s hands dropped from where they’d been fidgeting with the flower Will stuck in his jacket pocket for him, and he rested one on top, threading their fingers together. Despite his worrying, there was nothing uncomfortable about this. There wasn’t any weird pressure, any need for everything to be perfect. It was just like any other day, just… fancier.
“So,” Mike said eventually, squeezing Will’s hand. “What’s our wager on whether or not they let me through the doors?”
Will glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Something flashed over his face, and he caught a small sliver of his lip between his teeth.
“A hundred,” Will said confidently, squeezing back.
“Yeah?” Mike hummed, cocking an eyebrow. “Is Hopper going to be there with his gun? We strong-arming our way into prom?”
Will shrugged. The Cure was playing on the radio. Just Like Heaven.
It was basically their song at this point.
“Okay,” Mike said, when Will didn’t offer any further response. He shifted, moving his other hand so he could play with Will’s fingers. “Well, I just need to set the record straight, here. There is nothing else I’d rather do than go to prom with you. Except doing anything else with you, but that’s- that’s not the point.” He pinched Will’s pointer finger, waving it back and forth as he stared down at his palm. “You can ask Nancy, I’ve been a total freak all day. I couldn’t sit still waiting for you to show up, and I just- I love you.” He glanced up at him, bashful. “You know?”
Will was grinning from ear to ear. He flexed his fingers, and Mike let him go, let him take one of his hands again and squeeze it tight.
“I love you too,” Will said, and his voice was soft in a way that made Mike’s chest ache. “So much, Mike. And Jonathan could tell you- will tell you, I’m sure, he’s taking pictures tonight- that I was just a total nervous wreck all day. I’m trying not to get in my head about all this, like Valentine’s day, but I can’t help but want everything to be perfect because, well-” His eyes were warm, and just a little shiny. “You’re perfect.”
God. That was just about the corniest, cheesiest thing Will had probably ever said.
Mike had half a mind to tell him to pull over and kiss him stupid right here and now.
“Oh my god,” he said instead, hiding his face behind his free hand. Will laughed, light and airy, and it made Mike’s stomach flip.
Mike was doomed, because Will’s soft, goofy, sappy charm worked on him like magic. He was like a drug. And Will Byers was the cheese to his macaroni, the peanut butter to his jelly, the- the crack to his fucking crackhouse, and he was pleased as punch about it. As far as boyfriends went, there was no one better, and Mike Wheeler was one incredibly lucky bastard.
And, as it so happened, he was pretty lucky in the friend department as well.
The first thing he noticed when they pulled into the parking lot was Max. She was standing with El, who, of course, looked like a goddamn princess, with a sparkling dress and her hair curled and draped across her shoulders. They were by Jonathan’s car, standing close together while they waited, heads ducked so they could murmur to each other.
Max had her hair slicked back, braided into a bun at the back of her head, and she was wearing a suit and her purple Chuck Taylors.
Will pulled in beside them and rolled down Mike’s window, leaning his way to see them.
“Hey!” He called, nodding at his sister. “That guy bothering you?”
“Nope!” El replied happily, and Mike noticed the hand she had tucked between her skirt and the car- or rather, Max’s hand in the same spot, and the hunch of their shoulders nearly pressing together.
“Good!” Will said, leaning back in his seat to unbuckle. His next words were more mumbled, for Mike’s ears only. “Because she’d definitely kick my ass.”
Mike snorted.
“And I wouldn’t be any help,” he admitted, unbuckling his own seatbelt. He pushed the door open and slid out, careful not to encroach in El and Max’s little bubble. Will was quick to come around the truck, never straying too far, and he wasted no time in taking Mike’s hand again.
“Is Jon inside already?” Will asked, leaning into Mike’s side as naturally as breathing. El nodded.
“He has a booth. People have been showing up for a while.”
“They let them in early in the hopes that it would stop them from drinking in the parking lot,” Max explained, and the smirk on her lips let Mike know that she had probably been doing exactly that while they were waiting. Max seemed to sense his attention, because she reached into her jacket pocket- with a purple flower that matched the one strapped to El’s wrist- and fished a tiny bottle out from behind it. “Shot for good luck?”
“I think I’m okay,” Mike declined politely, thinking back to what his sister had said about the punch. Maybe she’d had a point. “You’re looking pretty fresh, Mayfield.”
She shrugged.
“Special occasion.”
“Hey!”
They all looked past the truck, where Lucas and Jake were jogging over. That alone was enough to grab his attention. Will had told him about that, about who Jake had really wanted to ask to prom, but he hadn’t expected it to actually happen.
It was kind of unfair, two of the fittest, hottest guys he knew going together. They made each other hotter just by association.
It was upon closer inspection, as Lucas came right up next to them, bumping his shoulder against Mike’s with a grin, that he realized that the basketball captain was also wearing eyeliner.
And fuck. Will was still, obviously, the most attractive person here, but…
Why were all of Mike’s friends so beautiful?
“Are they here yet?” Lucas asked, oblivious to Mike’s internal crisis.
“Are who here?” Mike asked suspiciously, starting to get the feeling that some sort of planning might’ve gone on without him.
“Dustin and Suzie,” Lucas said, with an implied obviously tacked on at the end. “They’re all we need to go in, right?”
“He said they were still getting ready when I went to pick up Mike,” Will explained, glancing sideways at Mike, like he thought he wouldn’t notice. Mike narrowed his eyes.
“I’m sensing, like, a conspiracy here,” Mike admitted, turning inquisitive eyes on the rest of the group. “And if that’s the case, I’d just like to say-”
“Here!”
Again, they all turned towards the sound of the voice. Suzie was on her way over- wearing a suit, just the same as Max- but she wasn’t the one who’d spoken, nor was she the one that drew their attention.
Dustin was hurrying towards them, almost stumbling as he went, and he was wearing the most ugly, colorful, frilly dress Mike had ever seen.
Oh.
Holy.
Shit.
His mouth, which had fallen open at the sight, snapped shut.
“We’re here!” Dustin called, waving his hands over his head. Suzie was walking at a slower pace for him to keep up, and Mike realized he was wearing heels, at least an inch or two high, because he was suddenly taller than his girlfriend.
They finally came to a halt at the edge of their little cluster, and Dustin took the chance to catch his breath, bracing himself with his hands against the scratchy fabric of the skirt. Suzie hovered behind him as he gasped, rubbing his back with a warm, sappy smile, like she was endlessly fond of his antics.
“You okay, Dusty-buns?” She asked softly, leaning closer. He waved her off.
“A-okay, Suzie-poo,” he assured her, finally standing upright. He propped his hands on his hips, more his back, and huffed out a breath. “These things are killing my calves, but I get the appeal. I tower over everything.”
“Barely,” Max scoffed, cocking an eyebrow. “I offered my taller ones, but you were too scared.”
“Ah ah I was not scared,” he corrected haughtily. “They didn’t go with the dress.”
“Nothing goes with that dress,” was Lucas’s mumbled retort, a throwaway to Jake, who hid his smile behind his hand.
“Wait,” Mike interrupted, shaking his head. “What- what?” He waved a hand at the lot of them, feeling lost. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Oh, well,” Dustin hummed, brushing off his skirt. “Max and El said you mentioned being worried you wouldn’t be allowed to wear a suit to prom, so. We figured they couldn’t say no to all of us, but, like, if they did, at least it would be all of us. A united front.”
El nodded, lifting her skirt to reveal the pants and sneakers underneath.
Mike’s brow furrowed. His eyes felt sort of itchy.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he protested.
“Sure,” Lucas agreed. “But we wanted to.”
“I didn’t want to wear a dress anyways,” Max added. “So this was a good excuse not to.”
“And I’ve never had a reason to wear a dress, so why would I pass this up?” Dustin gave a little twirl, arms lifted up from the skirt. “It’s kinda sick.”
“You look beautiful,” Suzie hummed, giving his arm a squeeze. Dustin blushed, a warm, gooey smile on his face.
Mike sort of felt like he might cry.
“It wasn’t even my idea,” Will admitted softly, leaned close to his ear. “They came up with the whole thing.”
“Well duh,” Dustin huffed. “We love you. And we’re a party. One for all, all for one, right?”
“Yep,” Max agreed, and she lifted her hand from behind El, taking El’s hand, still intertwined with her own, with her. She stuck them out. “I know you want to, so get the comradery out of your systems so we can get in there already.”
Dustin didn’t need to be told twice, eagerly slapping his hand overtop of theirs. Suzie was quick to join him, closing hers around his, and then Will was going for it, and Mike couldn’t not, and Lucas and-
And Jake stood back, awkward and unsure. His gaze flicked to Mike, and Mike drew a breath. He’d fought monsters and had a freaking baby. He could be a mature adult.
“Well, come on,” he prompted. “Party’s always taking on new members.” Obviously, he thought to himself, glancing at Suzie, and Max and El. They’d come a long way from just the four of them in his basement, foregoing sleep and decent meals just for one more minute in a fantasy world.
Besides, Jake was an experienced player, and Mike could use one more body for the campaign he was planning.
The boy brightened, and he stuck his hand in. Dustin made a low whooping noise, pushing their hands lower, and his whispered one, two, three made Mike grin like an idiot.
“Prom, ‘89!” He shouted, and threw their hands up in the air, eliciting cheers from the rest. He held up his hand once they were done, a motion to quiet, and held the other to his chest. “To our impending graduations, and our collective successes in making it through a very long, very weird high school career. We made it, folks, in more or less one piece. Mayfield.” He held out an expectant hand, and Max dutifully handed her bottle over. Dustin downed the rest of it in one go, shaking his head like a dog once he was done, and threw it on the ground, hard enough to shatter. “Woo!”
“Okay!” Lucas clapped his hands together, gesturing over their heads and toward the doors, where other students were filing in. “Let’s roll out!”
And they did. They pushed and shoved their way past other students and each other, and Mike clung to Will’s arm, sticking close in the crowd. Dustin led the way, a beacon in his glittery ballgown, and the chaperone at the front doors only looked their way for a moment, mildly overwhelmed, before quickly waving them through.
Prom wasn’t exactly anything to write home about. It was the same gymnasium where they had class, the same one Mike had suffered in for three out of four years before gleefully getting out of it for the fourth. It was decorated, but nothing could really cover up the smell of sweaty teenagers, especially when they’d just packed dozens more inside. There was still a dodgeball stuck in the rafters, still a dent in the backboard of the basketball hoop.
But Mike got it, kind of. He got why grownups always talked like it was the most magical night of their lives.
His friends laughing and chatting around him, and Will’s hand on his waist, comfortable instead of stiff this go around, the way the lights added just the right touch to hide the scuffs on the floor and the chips in the paint, the way they hit Will’s hair and his eyes…
He got it.
And, surrounded by their friends, it felt safe to lean into Will, to loop his arm around him.
I took my love, took it down. Climbed a mountain and I turned around.
“Mike,” Will said, a little drowned out in the noise. He’d tilted his head to look at him, shy and sweet. His next words were soft, too soft, and Mike missed them.
“What?” He called, shifting back so he could meet his eyes better.
“Dance with me?”
Mike didn’t even have to think about it.
“Yeah, of course.”
They shifted away from their friends slowly, away from the protective little bubble, but it wasn’t far. Most of them were still talking, but Max and El were swaying where they stood, curled in each other’s arms. Will led Mike toward the bigger crowd, but they stayed on the edges.
He put one hand on Mike’s waist, and held the other out. Mike took it easily, threading their fingers together, and draped his other over Will’s shoulder. They started a modest distance apart, but drew closer as they moved, until they were but a breath apart.
Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’ ‘cause I built my life around you.
But time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I’m gettin’ older too.
Mike had made plenty of mistakes over the past year, hell, over the past 18 years, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret a single one of them, because all of them had led him right here, right to this moment
And for that, he could be nothing but grateful.