Work Text:
Mike Wheeler keeps telling himself he’s better off. It’s fine, really. It’s not like he’s depressed or anything. He’s been writing, helping around the house, picked up a job at the local grocery store down the street. He’s fine. Totally fine.
He’s keeping himself busy, his mind busy at least. He has to.
It’s been 3 years. The party has moved on, carving out lives of their own, and Mike is still in Hawkins. A town that was once chaos—turned upside down (literally) has settled into something dull and uneventful.
Things could’ve been different if he hadn’t been so scared.
Scared of what, exactly?
He wasn’t quite sure.
He lost El 3 years ago, and even though it had been traumatic—painful in ways he never thought he’d survive, the ache doesn’t cut as deep anymore. They’d had their issues long before she chose to sacrifice herself. And somewhere along the way, he’d realized the truth: the romantic feelings were gone if he even had those to begin with. What remained was care, gratitude. She’d been his first relationship, the person who taught him what it meant to love at all.
He likes to imagine her somewhere far away, on a beautiful island with three waterfalls, where she can finally breathe—finally be free.
If he’s being honest, there’s only one person his thoughts keep drifting back to these days. The one who mattered most. The one he let slip through his fingers.
His best friend in the entire world.
Will.
God, he missed him. He missed him so much it stole the air from his lungs. This absence didn’t feel like the one he’d known before, when Will had moved to Lenora. This felt permanent. Real. Like it was already too late to go back.
On the nights Mike couldn’t sleep, he’d pull the binder out from beneath his bed—the one filled with every drawing Will had ever given him, dating back to when they were kids. He didn’t know why he still kept it. He just knew he couldn’t bring himself to let it go.
Maybe it was nostalgia. Maybe it was longing. Longing for what could have been and what never would be.
He’d trace his fingers along the lines of the drawings, losing himself in them, as if they might come alive beneath his touch. As if they could somehow bring Will back to him.
He’d called a few times, asked how he was doing. But it wasn’t the same anymore. There was a distance there now—an awkwardness that lingered between them, heavy and unmistakably real.
Sometimes it brought Mike to tears. He knew the truth—he’d known it the moment Will spoke, sitting in front of the group, finally saying the words out loud. Will was gay. Mike had already suspected it, ever since that awful moment years ago when he’d snapped and said “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls”, and regretted it instantly.
He remembered the look on Will’s face then—the pain written in his eyes, in every line of his expression. The way Will had talked about the person he had a crush on, someone who wasn’t like him at all. How his gaze had flicked straight to Mike when he’d called him his “Tammy,” a name Mike never heard before. He didn’t even know who that was.
Mike was so confused and mixed with so many emotions. Tensions were high from everyone being on edge with wanting Vecna gone.
Back then, he’d been confused—about everything. All he’d known for sure was that he wanted to protect Will. He always had. Ever since they were kids, there’d been something between them, a bond only the two of them really understood.
Will liked him. And Mike hadn’t known what to do with that.
He’d always known he loved Will—cared for him in a way that felt instinctive, unshakable. He couldn’t lose him. Will had been there through everything, always reassuring him about El. Hell, he’d even convinced El to commission the painting that still hung on Mike’s wall above his desk. Will had told him he was the heart. He’d always wanted what was best for Mike.
They took care of each other. They showed up. They mattered to each other.
But now… things were different. Changed in a way Mike couldn’t ignore.
He’d questioned his feelings for longer than he wanted to admit. Questioned himself, his own sense of identity.
And by the time he understood it, it was already too late.
Mike Wheeler was in love with Will Byers.
His own best friend
He always had been completely and utterly in love with Will.
As each dreadful day passed, the ache in his chest never fully faded. It lingered, constant and suffocating. He’d think about Will, about what could have been, and let the thoughts consume him until it felt impossible to breathe.
When would he finally start living and stop being so afraid?
He couldn’t stand feeling like this anymore. He was still confused—about his feelings, about what they meant, about his own sexuality, but none of that changed the truth. He hadn’t just let the opportunity slip through his fingers. He’d lost his best friend.
And he couldn’t keep going on like this.
Mike had to do something.
He needed to go to New York City.
He needed to get his best friend back.
No matter the cost.
✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧
Mike arrived in New York because he couldn’t wait any longer. He’d spent months saving every dollar from his dead-end job just to afford the ticket, and now that he was here, the weight of it all settled into his chest.
His family had questioned the timing—why now, of all times, he suddenly needed to come. Mike had lied, said he wanted to check out schools, maybe look into programs that could help him pursue writing.
It wasn’t a complete lie. Storytelling had always been his passion. Even after graduation, even after everything, he’d never stopped writing. He wanted—needed to do something with it someday.
But that wasn’t why he was in New York.
He was here on a mission: to find the love of his life.
He’d begged Nancy to ask Jonathan where Will usually spent his time. Mike knew Will lived on campus, but the idea of showing up there unannounced made his stomach twist. He had to do this right. He couldn’t fuck it up. Nancy eventually came through, listing a few clubs Will liked to go to on the weekends.
Thankfully, it was Saturday night. Apparently, Will frequented a place not far from the dorms called Midnight Avenue.
Mike checked into a motel for the weekend. It was shitty, but it was a bed. A mirror hung crooked on the wall, and he paused in front of it, taking himself in. Slacks. A striped sweater under his bomber jacket. His hair had grown a little long, curls falling forward onto his forehead. He adjusted the glasses framing his face—older now, maybe a little wiser. He almost looked taller.
Weaker, too.
His eyes were tired. He tried not to look miserable, even though he felt it deep down—bone-deep exhaustion from the life he’d somehow built for himself. Maybe he was miserable. He was tired of feeling like this.
He needed to do something—had to before it swallowed him whole.
Mike took a deep breath before grabbing his wallet and keys, stepping out the door and into the bitter winter air. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself, hands shoved deep into the pockets as he started walking. His heart felt like it was trying to break free from his chest. He was so incredibly nervous.
He had no idea what to expect. The last time he’d spoken to Will had been a year ago over the phone. The conversation had been stiff, careful. They hadn’t talked about much—just about Will’s classes, the new friends he’d made.
The thought of that still made Mike feel jealous, even though he told himself he had no right to be. Will was happy. Thriving. Succeeding in ways Mike had always wanted for him. After everything Will had endured, he was finally living the life he’d always dreamed of.
Mike just wanted him to be happy.
Will deserved that.
He deserved the world.
Mike had been walking for over twenty minutes, scanning every block, every glowing sign, but none of them matched the name Nancy had given him. He hadn’t come all this way just to turn back now. He couldn’t.
Just as the thought crept in that maybe the place didn’t even exist, he saw it.
Lively. Packed. Music thundering through the walls, spilling out onto the street. People crowded the entrance, drifting in and out with cigarettes hanging from their lips, laughter and smoke curling into the cold night air.
It looked like something out of a movie, not real life.
And it terrified him.
His heart was beating so hard he could feel it rattling against his ribs. He stood there for a moment, frozen, before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He was here for a reason. He’d come all this way.
Somewhere inside, his best friend—the person he was hopelessly, completely in love with might be waiting.
He couldn’t walk away now.
He owed it to himself.
He missed Will more than anything.
With another hard breath, Mike climbed the steps and pushed the door open.
He was immediately swallowed by the crowd—bodies packed together on the dance floor, moving in time with the music. Upbeat bass thundered through the speakers, vibrating straight through his chest. Strobe lights flashed across the walls, catching on sweat, smiles, motion. At the bar, people leaned into one another, clearly drunk, laughing like this was the best night of their lives.
Mike had never seen anything like it before. Nothing even close existed in boring Hawkins, Indiana.
People brushed past him, dancing, arms linked with their partners. He took it all in—the barely-there clothing, faces streaked with glitter and makeup, confidence worn like armor. His gaze snagged when he noticed couples kissing, hands tangled together, all the same gender.
And suddenly, it clicked.
This wasn’t just any club.
This was a club for gay individuals.
Mike’s heart was racing as he drifted toward the bar. If he was going to find even a shred of courage, he needed alcohol in his system.
He asked the bartender for a shot of tequila and a beer. Newly twenty-one, he didn’t know much about drinking—just the cheap beer his dad kept in the fridge, the kind he’d sneak every once in a while.
Mike settled onto a barstool, hands wrapped around the cold bottle as he nursed the beer. The shot burned all the way down, leaving his throat raw and his stomach warm.
People crowded in beside him, shoulders brushing against his, but no one spoke. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t here to make friends.
Besides, everything about this place felt unfamiliar. For so long, his world had shrunk to his basement back in Hawkins—a space that had slowly become agonizingly sad and lonely. He couldn’t live like that anymore.
His eyes scanned the packed room, searching for something familiar.
For a familiar pair of hazel eyes that once looked at him like he was the only one in the room.
People blended together, nobody stood out. He took a couple more sips of his beer before suddenly his drink almost fell out of his hand.
There he was. Will. His Will.
His breath caught in his throat, his eyes unable to tear themselves away from the familiar figure—the same body he used to fall asleep beside during childhood sleepovers. The same beautiful hazel eyes that once held his during late-night heart-to-hearts. Will looked older now. Wiser. Happier.
Mike could barely breathe. His best friend. The love of his life. After three years, he was finally close enough to reach out and touch him.
His heart pounded as he set his drink down on the bar. He drew in a steadying breath and placed his feet on the floor. The ground trembled beneath him from the bass of the music, but he barely noticed.
Courage swelled in his chest. This was it. Now or never.
He moved before he could talk himself out of it. His body buzzed, weightless, like he was floating through the crowd. The alcohol ran through his bloodstream, boosting his confidence.
Will’s back was turned, his laughter bright as he leaned toward a woman beside him. He looked completely in his element—finally comfortable in his own skin. The club was filled of people and all Mike could notice was Will.
Mike was halfway there when he stopped dead.
A guy about their age stepped up to Will, slipped an arm around his waist, and pulled him in close. The gesture was easy. Intimate. This wasn’t friendly.
This was someone Will was involved with.
Mike’s heart shattered in his chest. There was someone else.
Bodies brushed past him as he stood there, feet glued to the floor.
He couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. God, he felt like a complete idiot. Of course it had been years and of course Will had moved on. Why wouldn’t he? He didn’t expect Will to be pining over Mike this whole time.
The realization made Mike feel sick. Numb. Crushed.
He watched as Will slid an arm around the guy’s shoulders, watched the stranger lean in to murmur something against Will’s ear. Will threw his head back and laughed, the sound swallowed by the music but still unmistakable. The same laugh—bright and infectious. The one Mike used to draw out of him with stupid jokes and late-night teasing. He used to be the one to make Will laugh like that. He was no longer that person anymore.
The song shifted, turning louder, faster. The guy took Will’s hand and tugged him toward the dance floor.
Will still hadn’t seen him. Mike stood frozen just a few feet away, his feet glued to the floor. He felt like a complete idiot. What had he expected? That Will would turn, throw his arms around him, and they’d confess their love right there? Things like that only happened in movies.
Before he could look away, Will turned and their eyes locked.
Mike’s breath hitched. His eyes widened. His body refused to move.
The expression on Will’s face made his stomach drop. He didn’t look happy. He didn’t look angry. He looked… completely speechless. Stunned.
Mike’s heart threatened to burst in his chest. His best friend. The one he had been in love with for years. Right here. In this very club. In New York City.
The guy Will was with didn’t even notice him staring. He pressed closer to Will, moving with the rhythm of the song.
It took a moment, but Will responded, swaying into him, bodies pressed together, sweat and glitter catching the strobe lights as it clung to his skin. He looked magnificent. Absolutely ethereal.
The guy’s back shielded Mike, but Will’s body was still partially turned toward him. Mike couldn’t look away. Every movement, every tilt of Will’s head, every flicker of his smile was impossible to ignore.
The guy’s arms were around Will’s waist, Will’s hands draped over his shoulders. Lips brushed against neck and jaw, but all the while, Will’s eyes never left Mike’s.
Mike couldn’t believe it. His chest felt like it had been ripped in two. If he weren’t such a coward, maybe it could’ve been him. Pressed against Will on the dance floor. Or better yet, somewhere private. Hands tangled in his hair, body pressed close, lips meeting in a kiss he’d never want to end. Holding him, never letting him go.
But he ruined that. Maybe he’d never get that chance. The thought was unbearable.
And yet, Will’s gaze was locked on him—intense, unwavering, filled with something Mike couldn’t name. Even as he stood there, completely heartbroken, Will’s eyes stayed on him.
Here he was, dancing with someone else. And all Mike wanted more than anything was to be the one holding Will tight, the one Will could never let go.
But maybe, to Will, he was just a stranger. They didn’t know each other anymore.
When the guy leaned in, pressing his forehead against Will’s, bodies flush together, Mike felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore.
He’d seen enough. He couldn’t handle it. This was too much.
Mike finally forced his body to move. Without hesitation, heart sinking, he turned toward the nearest exit. He couldn’t breathe. He needed air.
The cold hit him the moment he pushed through the doors, sharp and bracing, reminding him he was still alive. He stumbled onto the back porch, leaning heavily against the brick wall behind him. Fortunately, no one was outside. It was quiet here, the music from inside slightly muffled but still thudding through the wall against which his head rested.
He drew in a shaky breath and let his eyes close. The tears came almost immediately. The tighter he squeezed them shut, the more they spilled. It was a release he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back.
Mike let himself feel it, but he had no one to blame but himself. Pathetic. That’s what he felt. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t been a coward three years ago, he wouldn’t have lost Will. His life wouldn’t have become this miserable.
He pulled out his emergency pack of cigarettes, selected one, and brought it to his lips. He hardly smoked—only in moments like this, when the world felt too heavy and he’d had a drink or two which he clearly did. The alcohol ran through his system and made his skin tingle.
A time like this definitely called for a cigarette.
He took a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling with everything he had. The back porch filled with the smoky haze as he took another puff, pressing his back against the brick wall, free hand adjusting the glasses on his face.
Then he heard it—the soft creak of the door opening.
“Well, if it isn’t Mike Wheeler in the flesh.”
That voice. He would recognize it anywhere.
Fuck.
Will Byers stood in front of him, more beautiful than Mike remembered. Now that they were face to face, Mike could really see him and really take him in.
Will wore a letterman jacket layered over a blue sweater and straight-cut jeans. His hazel eyes sparkled, brighter somehow, edged with a new boldness and confidence. His hair was shorter now, styled neatly, and a small earring caught the light as he moved.
He looked familiar and completely, devastatingly changed at the same time.
“Will—I, uh. Hi.” Mike stammered, heat rushing to his cheeks and creeping down his neck.
“What the hell are you doing here, Mike?” Will’s tone was firm as his gaze swept over him, slow and assessing, which only made the warmth in Mike’s face deepen.
Mike froze, cigarette still between his fingers, suddenly unsure what to do with it, or with himself. He’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times in his head, but standing here, with Will right in front of him, every carefully planned word vanished from his brain.
He was completely at a loss.
“I—came here to see you of course.” Mike stumbled on his words, his eyes moving down to the small pebble on the ground that he had finally kicked off to the side.
Will looked down at the ground, a deep sigh slipping past his lips. “Mike… it’s been three years.”
Mike nodded, head dropping as his eyes closed. “I know. I wanted to call. I just—got busy.”
“Busy?” Will shot back, shaking his head in disbelief. “Last I heard, you’re still in Hawkins. You sure seem real busy to me.”
Mike knew Will had every right to be upset. He’d left with so much unresolved tension hanging between them. There were a thousand questions burning in Mike’s chest—Who was Tammy? Did he really have a crush on him? How long did it last? He couldn’t bring himself to ask any of them.
After Vecna was gone, everyone else had moved on with their lives. Mike hadn’t. He wished it was easier.
His life now was a mess, and he knew it. He wasn’t proud of it.
If only he hadn’t been so damn scared.
He lifted the cigarette toward his mouth, but before he could take another drag, it was knocked from his lips and sent skittering across the concrete. Will crushed it beneath his shoe. Mike’s eyes widened as he watched it burn out.
“What was that for?” Mike asked.
“You smoke now? Really?” Will snapped. “What else don’t I know about you? Because it feels like I don’t know you at all anymore.”
Mike looked back up at him, their eyes locking. The hurt in Will’s expression was painfully there, and Mike’s chest ached knowing he was the reason for it.
“Only in emergencies,” Mike rushed his words out. “Or when I’ve been drinking. That’s it. Nothing else.”
Will stepped closer. Until there was barely any space left between them. He reached up, fingers brushing lightly against the frames of Mike’s glasses. Mike followed every movement, heart hammering against his ribs.
“And you wear glasses now,” Will said quietly, his gaze roaming over Mike’s face, making heat bloom in his cheeks. “They look..nice.”
Heat crept down Mike’s neck as he tried to hold himself together. Will was standing far too close—close enough for Mike to notice the slope of his nose, the soft curve of his pink lips, the familiar hazel of his eyes. The glitter smeared across his cheekbones. He couldn’t look away.
God, he was so fucking beautiful.
“Thanks,” Mike said shyly. “How have you been, Will?”
Will stepped back, breaking the close space between them. “Mike, cut the small-talk shit. Why are you here?”
Mike let out a breath and shoved his hands into his pockets. He’d rehearsed this a thousand times, but now his mind was completely blank except for the undeniable fact that Will looked incredibly good.
He’d known him since kindergarten. And now, standing in front of him, was someone older. Wiser. Someone with a whole new life—one Mike wasn’t sure he fit into anymore.
The air was cold enough that their breath fogged between them. Mike stared down at the ground before lifting his gaze back to Will.
“You want me to be honest?” His voice wavered. “I miss you, Will. So much it feels suffocating. And I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Will let out a long breath. “You miss me now?” He said quietly. “It’s been three years, Mike. I’ve heard from you, what—three times?” He shook his head in disbelief. “How did you even find me?”
“I had Nancy ask Jonathan where you hang out,” Mike admitted. There was desperation in his tone, and he didn’t bother hiding it. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Fucking Jonathan,” Will mumbled under his breath. His head dipped. “You could’ve called.”
“I got… scared,” Mike’s voice dropped, heavy with sadness. “I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me. I just wanted to see you.”
Will stepped closer, closing the distance between them again. “So what is it you need to say that you couldn’t have said over the phone?”
Mike chewed onto his bottom lip, eyes locked on Will’s. His heart was pounding, loud enough he was sure Will could hear it. “Everything,” He said honestly. “I couldn’t have said any of it over the phone.”
He glanced around, relieved to find the porch still empty so it was just the two of them, alone in the cold. When he looked back, he couldn’t read Will’s expression. It was tight with anger, yes, but beneath it was hurt.
Mike’s chest ached. He wanted to reach out and touch Will. Hold him in his arms, kiss him, and tell him how much he means to him. Tell him he’s sorry that he realized too late that he was actually in love with him all along.
“Well you better start talking. Otherwise I do have someone inside that is probably wondering where I am.”
Oh, right.
Will had a boyfriend. A boyfriend that probably didn’t know everything about him including being able to tell the sound of his breathing or his favorite cereal.
“Seems nice,” Mike said, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. “Is he your boyfriend?” He heard the jealousy as soon as the words left his mouth, but he couldn’t stop it. He’d never seen Will like this before—glowing, independent, grown into himself. He finally found himself.
Will let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Mike, will you just cut the shit and tell me why you’re here?”
Mike sighed, pulling one hand from his pocket to run it through his unruly curls. He didn’t know where to start. He just knew he couldn’t hold it in anymore, especially not after all these years of carrying it around with him.
They stood close. Close enough that Mike could have wrapped his arms around him.
He wouldn’t do that unless Will wanted it. Instead, he shoved his hands back into his pockets, his body buzzing with nerves, heart pounding against his ribs.
“I can’t stand not having you in my life, Will,” Mike said, swallowing hard as his gaze dropped to his shoes. “I know it’s been three years, and I’m sorry. When everything was happening in Hawkins with the Upside Down, I was a mess. We all were. I was dealing with so much, but I never felt alone, because no matter what was happening, I knew I had you.”
He took a shaky breath and lifted his eyes to Will’s.
“I lost El, and yeah, that broke me. But when you left for New York with everything between us still unresolved…” His voice faltered, his eyes filling with sadness. “I thought losing El was the worst of it. But it wasn’t.”
His eyes burned, tears threatening to spill, but he pushed on. “You leaving broke me.”
Mike took in a couple shaky breaths. “I didn’t understand it at first. But as time went on and you kept slipping further out of my life I had nothing but time to realize what I’d lost. And what I was too scared to admit to myself.”
Will’s face had softened, hurt etched clearly into his expression, his own eyes shining. They stood there, frozen, until Will reached out and gently closed his hand around Mike’s forearm, giving it a small, grounding squeeze.
Will’s touch left Mike’s body buzzing and his heart feeling like it could leap out of his chest at any given moment.
“And what’s that?” Will asked, his voice filled with curiously, his facial expression softening.
Mike let out another shaky breath, his gaze dropping to Will’s hand still wrapped around his forearm. “That I was in love with you,” He said quietly. “I think I always was. I was just… too scared to admit it to myself. Afraid of what it might mean.”
Tears streaked his cheeks as he swallowed hard, lifting his eyes to Will’s, searching for something—anything.
Will stood frozen, his hand unmoving. He looked stunned. Completely speechless.
Mike kept going, afraid that if he stopped now, he never would again.
“Will, ever since we were kids, you were special to me. You never stopped being special. What I had with you was never the same as what I had with anyone else. It was always you and me against the world. You made me feel safe. You made me feel at peace.”
He dragged in another shaky breath, the words tumbling out faster now.
“When you looked right at me and said you had a crush on someone and that you knew they didn’t like you because they weren’t like you, I wanted to stand up and scream that you were wrong. That I did like you. That I was like you. But then you called me your Tammy, and I didn’t understand. Fuck, Will, I still don’t. I—”
Will cut him off with a shaky laugh, his eyes watering. “Tammy was a metaphor,” He said softly. “She was a real person, but a friend once told me about crushing on Tammy in high school knowing she didn’t like girls. Tammy ended up liking Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington instead.”
He took a steadying breath. “So my friend realized she didn’t need Tammy to like her back. She just needed to accept herself. And when she did she felt free.”
Will’s gaze didn’t waver from Mike’s. “I knew you’d never like me back. I’d already accepted that. It hurt like hell, but I accepted it.”
Their eyes locked, the space between them charged, Will’s hand still resting on Mike’s arm, sending electricity straight through his veins.
“And then we never talked about it,” Will continued, his voice quieter now. “Things got weird. Tensions were high. You lost El, and you shut down. You got angry, closed off. I know you were hurting. But I was right there, Mike. And you shut me out.”
Mike swallowed hard, his chest tight as he listened to Will finally speak his truth. His gaze dropped to the floor again, a painful lump forming in his throat, the sob threatening to break free.
“I didn’t mean to,” He whispered. “I didn’t know how to feel or what I was allowed to feel. God, I was hurting so bad. I still am.”
He shook his head, tears spilling over. “I didn’t mean to shut you out. I didn’t mean to let you leave for New York without talking about it first. I just… didn’t know how. And then time passed, and I realized I was turning into my dad. Emotionless. Lost. Everything dull, like all the color had drained out of the world and out of me” His voice cracked. “I lost myself when I lost you.”
Mike was really crying now, his body trembling, breath uneven. “I never wanted to lose you, Will.”
What happened next caught him completely off guard. Will stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Mike, pulling him into a tight, secure hug, holding him against his chest. Mike melted instantly, his hands gripping Will’s jacket as he pressed his face into his shoulder.
Three years since he’d last been held by Will. Three years since he’d felt this.
Will’s hand moved slowly up and down his back, grounding him, steady and warm. Mike breathed him in–the familiar mix of his cologne and clean laundry and the feeling hit him all at once.
It felt like home.
Will murmured soft, reassuring words into his hair, and eventually the sobs eased, his body relaxing in Will’s arms. Still, he didn’t want to let go.
“You haven’t lost me, Mike,” Will whispered, holding him close. “I’m still here.”
When Mike finally pulled back, his chest aching, he slipped his glasses off to wipe at his eyes, but Will’s hands replaced his before he could.
Their eyes locked as Will gently brushed his thumbs against Mike’s cheeks, wiping away the tears that had fallen, and Mike felt himself come undone all over again. He stood there, frozen, heart pounding, as Will looked at him like he wasn’t something broken.
Like he was something worth staying for. He melted right on the spot.
“I’m so sorry, Will.” Mike took a couple of shaky breaths as he slipped his glasses back onto his face, his hands trembling slightly. “There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about you—about everything I didn’t say, everything I didn’t do. I replay it all in my head, wishing I could tell you how I felt, but never knowing how or if I even deserved to.”
He swallowed, his voice breaking. “I love you, Will. I think I always have. Since the day I met you on the swingset in kindergarten. I loved you then, and I love you now.”
Will’s eyes filled instantly. He tried to blink the tears back, but they spilled over anyway. He drew in a deep, steadying breath as his hands settled on Mike’s back.
“Mike…” Will’s voice was thick with emotion. “You really don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” He let out a shaky laugh through tears. “I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve understood what love even was. From the moment I met you, you were special to me. You always have been.”
Mike took a few uneven breaths as he listened, his chest aching. Will’s hand moved in slow, soothing circles against his back through the fabric of his jacket, grounding him, keeping him steady.
“There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about you either,” Will continued softly. “I have a life here, I do. But at night, when everything’s quiet, I lie in bed and think about how much I miss you. How much I wish you were here, right beside me.” His voice softened even more. “I miss my best friend.”
Mike felt like his heart might leap out of his chest.
“I miss my best friend, too.” He said, letting out a shaky laugh.
Slowly, he moved his hands to rest over Will’s, still warm against his back. “I have all the art you’ve ever made me in a binder. I keep it under my bed. I look at it all the time. And that painting El commissioned—”
Will cut him off immediately, shaking his head. “Mike, I need to be honest about that.”
He took a deep breath, visibly nervous. The cold air nipped at their skin, but the heat between them was enough to drown it out.
“El didn’t commission that,” Will admitted, the words rushing out like a dam finally breaking. “I painted it myself. I was going to give it to you at the airport in Lenora, but things were awkward. Weird. And then I saw how much you and El were struggling and how scared you were that she didn’t need you anymore, so I took matters into my own hands.”
Mike’s eyes widened as the truth settled in.
“But the things you said,” Mike whispered. “Calling me the heart. Saying I made her feel like she wasn’t different, like she belonged. That she’d always need me. Those were your words?”
Their eyes locked. Will nodded slowly, taking a shaky breath. “El had no idea. That was all me. I was the one who needed you. You made me feel like I belonged. Like I wasn’t a mistake. I believed you were the heart. I still do.”
Mike felt like his chest might burst open. He gently threaded his fingers over Will’s hand, grounding himself in the moment.
He couldn’t believe this was happening.
The painting wasn’t from El. It was from Will. The words, the confession had been there all along, and Mike had been too oblivious to see it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mike asked softly. “Why did you let me think it was El?”
He wasn’t angry. Just aching with the weight of what could’ve been.
Will sighed. “I was scared. You were with El. You were hurting. I didn’t think you could ever like me back even though sometimes, I felt like maybe you did.” He bit his lip, voice trembling. “Seeing you with her nearly killed me. Especially when you came to Lenora and forgot my birthday. You barely called. It felt like I didn’t matter.”
“Will—what?” Mike shook his head, his fingers slowly intertwining with Will’s. “I tried to call you every day. The line was always busy. I missed you so much.”
Will let out a breathless laugh, disbelief flickering across his face. “You really did? God, it’s like the universe didn’t want us to have contact or something.”
Their fingers fully laced together now, the simple touch sending butterflies through Mike’s stomach.
Not only had Will painted the piece himself, but he had spoken those words straight from his heart. Words that Mike had carried with him for years, never knowing they were meant for him. He thought of them every single day, secretly hoping they were coming from Will himself.
“I was terrified of my feelings,” Mike confessed quietly. “Of what they meant. I had time to figure it out even if it was miserable. My life’s been colorless without you, Will.” His voice softened. “You don’t just bring color to your art. You bring it into my life. You are the color in my black-and-white world. And I will always need that. I’ll always need you.”
They were both crying now, their bodies flush against each other. Will squeezed Mike’s hands, which were still resting on his back.
“You don’t have to know everything right now,” Will said softly. “You never had to rush figuring it all out.”
Mike shook his head immediately. “No. I’m done wasting time,” His voice trembled, but there was certainty there now. “I’m here. I’m finally saying everything I should’ve said years ago. I love you, Will. I don’t want to wait anymore. We lost so much time not talking, not choosing each other, when we could’ve been together. I’m so sorry it took me this long to get my shit together.”
Will let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Hey,” He lifted one of his hands from Mike’s back and cupped his face, his thumb gently wiping away another tear. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
“But—your boyfriend,” Mike said quickly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “What about—”
Will shook his head, cutting him off. “He’s not my boyfriend.” His voice was quiet but sure. “We’ve gone out a few times. That’s it.” His thumb stilled against Mike’s cheek. “I tried to move on, Mike. I really did. But my heart never stopped wanting you. I always pictured you when I went out with anyone. No one can compare to you.”
Mike’s breath hitched. His gaze flicked down to Will’s lips before lifting back to his eyes, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. Slowly, he brought both of his hands up to cradle the sides of Will’s face.
“Will?” He murmured, a quiet confidence settling into his chest.
Will’s eyes dropped to Mike’s mouth for a split second before meeting his eyes again. “Yeah…?” He breathed.
“Can I kiss you?” Mike asked softly, their bodies still pressed together, like neither of them trusted the ground beneath their feet.
Will nodded, a shaky exhale leaving his lips. “Yes,” he whispered. “Mike, please. Kiss me.”
That was all it took. Without hesitation, Mike closed the small distance between them and pressed his lips to Will’s.
A soft gasp slipped from Will’s mouth—finally, after years of longing, the moment they’d both been waiting for was real.
Mike cradled Will’s face in his hands, kissing him deeply, urgently, like he was desperate for this. Like he’d been starving. Will let out a quiet whimper against his lips, the sound sending something electric through Mike, making him press closer, kissing him harder.
Their bodies fit together perfectly, flush against each other. Will’s arms slid around Mike’s waist, one hand gripping the back of his jacket like he was afraid to let go.
Their lips moved together in perfect sync—hungry, aching, full of everything they’d never said the last three years. Mike traced his tongue along Will’s bottom lip, and Will parted his lips for him without hesitation.
Their tongues met fully then, slow and unguarded. Mike let out a muffled groan against Will’s lips as one hand slid to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, like there still wasn’t quite enough space between them.
After a few moments, Will pulled away first, breathless and a little lightheaded. Mike followed him instinctively, their foreheads resting together as they tried to catch their breath, warm exhales mingling in the cold air.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” Mike breathed against his lips, his voice steady but full of longing. “So long, Will.”
“I wish you would’ve,” Will said softly, letting out a short, breathy laugh. “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed about this. You kissing me and actually feeling the same way.”
Mike pulled back just enough to look at him. Will was breathless, lips swollen from the kiss, eyes bright and glassy. Beautiful. Mike brought both hands up to his face, holding him there as their eyes locked.
“I’ve dreamed of this for years,” Mike admitted, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry I didn’t have the courage sooner. I’m so fucking sorry, Will.”
Will’s eyes filled with tears as his hands tightened in the back of Mike’s jacket. “We lost so much damn time,” Mike said quietly. Then a small smile broke through. “But we can make it up now.”
“How long are you in the city?” Will asked.
“A couple days,” Mike replied. “I was planning on checking out some schools with writing programs. Either way, I needed to do that. I owe it to myself.”
Will’s smile widened, their bodies still pressed together like neither of them wanted to step back. “Stay a couple extra days?” He asked softly. “I’ve really missed you, Mike.”
Mike’s face brightened immediately. He nodded, lifting a hand to gently wipe away the tear that slipped down Will’s cheek. “Only if you get rid of that boyfriend of yours.”
Will laughed, his head tipping back and God, Mike had missed being the one to make him laugh. Missed him more than anything.
“Again,” Will said, smirking as he looked back at him, “Not my boyfriend.” His eyes sparkled as he stared at him. “Aw. Is someone jealous?”
Mike’s eyes widened as he shook his head a little too fast. “No no, of course not.” His voice squeaked, giving him away completely.
Will grinned, reading him like he always had. “You totally are,” He teased. “It’s okay. It’s kind of sexy.”
Mike grinned right back at him. “You’re ridiculous,” He let out a small laugh. “Fine, I admit it. Maybe I am a little.”
Will let out a soft chuckle as he reached down and laced his fingers with Mike’s. “Come on,” He said, giving his hand a gentle tug. “Let’s go inside. You owe me a dance.”
Mike’s eyes lit up instantly, his smile widening. “I thought you’d never ask.” He squeezed Will’s hand and let himself be pulled back into the club.
The place was just as lively as before—music thundering through the speakers, lights flashing across the walls, bodies moving everywhere, skin slick with sweat and glitter. It was overwhelming in the best way. Mike hadn’t seen anything like it before. He felt alive for the first time in years.
Mike wrapped an arm around Will’s waist, drawing him close as they found a small pocket of space on the dance floor. Will pressed into him without hesitation, their bodies fitting together like they always had.
Mike noticed him almost immediately—the guy Will had been dancing with earlier. He was watching them now, his gaze lingering a little too long. Will caught Mike’s stare and followed it, then rolled his eyes and shrugged.
“Fuck him,” Will said loudly, the words barely cutting through the music but meant just for Mike.
Mike shot the guy one last glare, his arms wrapped around Will’s as their bodies began to move to the music. Then, without overthinking it, he lifted his hand and flipped him off before turning all his attention back to Will.
Will was his. Always had been. Always Will.
Mike rested his forehead against Will’s, their lips brushing, breath mingling between them. Around them, bodies moved and music thundered through the club, people dancing and laughing and losing themselves, but none of it mattered.
To Mike, it was just the two of them alone in this club.
Will’s arms slid up around his neck, fingers tangling in Mike’s messy curls as he flashed him a wide, radiant grin before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. Mike held onto Will’s waist, hands firm and protective on his hips as they swayed together, moving as one.
Nothing else existed in that moment but them.
For so long, Mike had felt like he was moving through life in grayscale—going through the motions, surviving instead of living. But here, with Will in his arms, everything felt brighter. Warmer. Real.
Will had always been the color missing from his world.
And now, holding him close on a crowded dance floor in New York City, Mike finally felt like he was living in color again.
He felt free.