[the thing is, will's always known. from that first day, sitting on the swings with his hand-me-down sneakers a good few inches above the wood chips, slowly swinging back and forth and trying to swallow down the lump in his throat, trying not to cry, cause only babies cry. from that first question, in a piping, hesitant voice that made him look up and for a moment be blinded by the sun shining through an absolute mess of dark curls, by the huge, hopeful brown eyes, by the freckles almost eclipsed by the nervous blush -- do you wanna be my friend?
mike might as well have asked do you wanna see what the rest of your life is gonna be like? because it is. because despite the years since that day, will is always going to be that tiny little boy, looking up and seeing the sun in mike wheeler's face, in his eyes, in his crooked gap-toothed smile.]
Y-You're cute too. [its stammered, will ducking his head to rest his chin on his folded hands again, then looking up through his eyelashes at mike's face for a reaction. it's too small a word, too simple for what mike actually is. someone had asked about him recently, and will's reaction had been closer to the truth when he'd texted back without thinking--
[It seems impossible that Mike’s face could get any brighter, any warmer, but it does. Honestly – blindly – Mike has never considered that as a factor, not with Will, not with El, not in any aspect of his life. Frogface, Freakshow… worse ones starting with the same letter. The world has told him he’s ugly and he’s railed against it with fists and bared teeth: so what, fuck off, leave us alone. Even his friends have picked at his hair, his ears, his freckles. But not Will. Never Will.
I’m not, he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Because more than anyone else in the world, he trusts Will. He could never not trust Will, not even when he had black eyes and too-pale skin and a voice that wasn’t his own.
He’s not sure what he’s planning on saying next, with Will’s face so close – his thick eyelashes, his awed little mouth – but it’s certainly not, ]… Frodo’s peeing on the doormat.
[He hadn’t even noticed that the dog had gotten off Will’s back, as sucked into the moment as they’d both been, but apparently Frodo is overdue for a walk.]
[frodo, will loves you with all the not-inconsiderable emotion that fits in his little heart, and he would gladly lay down his literal life to protect your tiny fuzzy self. but right now you are ruining his life.
will turns his head, watching with the weariest expression imaginable as the little dog ruins steve's doormat.] ...yup. He is. [hello darkness, my old friend....]
[Mike watches as tiny ball of fluff finishes, and skitters away into the next room with a merry loll of his tongue. One blink, two blinks, and, ] We could just throw it out. Get a new one.
[Because he really doesn't want to get off the floor right now. Getting off the floor would mean getting even farther away from the moment Frodo inadvertently interrupted. Eyes locked, noses a hair apart, something so strange and big between them. Mike wants it back, wants to hold onto it a little longer, try to put words to it.]
Mmmm. [will slowly starts to shift backwards, feeling that old hot blush of shame crawl up the back of his neck, around to his ears, crimson and guilty and wrong wrong wrong. he knows, realistically, that nobody's going to come in and yell at them, but there's this sinking pit in his stomach that's already trying to eclipse that perfect shining instant where something almost happened.]
[For a moment Mike watches, eyes on Will's as he gets far enough to finally focus. The doubt and shame are suddenly so clear - painfully clear - and he wants to cry. He did that. He pushed, and it was too much - he's always too much - and now Will's uncomfortable.
But the thing in his chest, wordless and so important, won't let him just watch as Will shrinks away. He pushes farther up, sitting with his hands flat against the floor.]
Hey. [It's soft, assuring; his Will Voice.] What's wrong? Is it what I said?
[will rocks back a little in response, moving to sit on his heels, knees on either side of mike's legs, still too close, his mind keeps screaming. he shrugs, shakes his head -- he can't lie to that voice. not to that one.]
No, it's -- you were being so nice and I. Made it weird. Didn't I? [he still can't look up, hands fluttering around a little before they come to rest on his own thighs. he wants to reach out again, wants to go back to being warm and safe and curled up on top of mike, where nothing in the world could get to him. not demogorgons, not deerington, not anything.]
You didn't. [He never does. It's always Mike saying the wrong thing, being too intense, too loud. Will is perfect, just enough, just right.]
It's... different, I think. You had to deal with so much at home, but I didn't- [Oh lord, more words, about himself. Can't they just talk about Will forever?] I didn't realize all the way 'til I was in Deerington, and everyone was talking about how normal and fine it is here, and in the future - even in Indiana.
[He finally reaches back out, slowly and cautiously, halfway afraid Will is going to bolt; his finger's light on Will's elbow, soft as a breath. And even softer, like he's relaying some kind of holy secret-]
Wade's from the future, and he's dating Spider-Man. Even Spider-Man likes boys.
...you had to deal with other stuff. [he's talking about the black hole, of course, that awful numbing pit of darkness that he'd gotten a glimpse of. but he's also talking about every time mike was talked over or lectured or grounded, or every time he gritted his teeth and curled his fingers into fists and glared at his lap or his plate or the wall until his eyes stopped tearing up. will's seen it, over and over, since they were little. it was a while before he realized it was even wrong, it was so normal.
he wonders if it became normal for mike too.
so, despite his awkwardness, his hesitation, will moves so his hand rests back in mike's, looking down like he has to watch carefully as their fingers tangle together, even though he's done it a million times.]
...Spider-Man likes girls too, though. [he glances up, quickly, under his shaggy hair.] Do you -- still like them? Girls?
[Mike's mind doesn't even go back to the black hole when Will says that. Other stuff, he hears, and he thinks - monsters, danger, terror. And he's just about to protest, to fall back on You had it worse, when the second hits like a curveball.
His ears feel very warm.]
I-I don't know. I think so. [He has thought. He's thought a lot, and he's mostly sure that he's fairly certain he still likes girls at least fifty percent of the time. Because so far in his life he's liked two people, and one was a girl and one was a boy, and that math works out pretty neatly.] Maybe I'm like Spider-Man.
[Just without the superpowers, which is honestly a drag when you get bullied just as much as Spider-Man too.]
[will's looking down at their hands, still, running his thumb gently over the bumps of mike's knuckles, tracing the freckles there -- even his hands have freckles.]
That'd be cool. Spider-Man's cool. [and mike is cool, that goes without saying. will swallows hard, licks his lips, looks up at mike again with those big, solemn, wide eyes.] ...you know it doesn't change anything. Right? I don't -- you're still my best friend. You're still you.
[he's saying what he wants to hear, what he's always prayed people (his mom, jonathan, his friends) would say if his secret ever got out. but it's true. nothing could change the place mike occupies, that sacred role of best friend, protector, leader. the person will loves more desperately and helplessly than anyone.]
[From Will's wide eyes and nervous fidgets, Mike can tell what importance the words hold to him, and he's just as raw and deliberate when he tips his head down and replies, ] You are, too.
[His fingers twitch against Will's, still full of the same buzzing, fumbling energy, but something feels different, better. He doesn't have the sense that if he doesn't jump, if he doesn't blurt something out, it's all going to unravel away from him.]
[will keeps looking down, watching mike's hand, watching him breathe, listening to his voice. he -- wants to believe it. he wants to believe everything will be okay if he does believe it. that he's allowed to. that it's okay.
so he nods, finally. squeezes mike's hand a little tighter.]
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mike might as well have asked do you wanna see what the rest of your life is gonna be like? because it is. because despite the years since that day, will is always going to be that tiny little boy, looking up and seeing the sun in mike wheeler's face, in his eyes, in his crooked gap-toothed smile.]
Y-You're cute too. [its stammered, will ducking his head to rest his chin on his folded hands again, then looking up through his eyelashes at mike's face for a reaction. it's too small a word, too simple for what mike actually is. someone had asked about him recently, and will's reaction had been closer to the truth when he'd texted back without thinking--
he's my best friend. he's everything.]
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I’m not, he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Because more than anyone else in the world, he trusts Will. He could never not trust Will, not even when he had black eyes and too-pale skin and a voice that wasn’t his own.
He’s not sure what he’s planning on saying next, with Will’s face so close – his thick eyelashes, his awed little mouth – but it’s certainly not, ]… Frodo’s peeing on the doormat.
[He hadn’t even noticed that the dog had gotten off Will’s back, as sucked into the moment as they’d both been, but apparently Frodo is overdue for a walk.]
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will turns his head, watching with the weariest expression imaginable as the little dog ruins steve's doormat.] ...yup. He is. [hello darkness, my old friend....]
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[Because he really doesn't want to get off the floor right now. Getting off the floor would mean getting even farther away from the moment Frodo inadvertently interrupted. Eyes locked, noses a hair apart, something so strange and big between them. Mike wants it back, wants to hold onto it a little longer, try to put words to it.]
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Steve'd never know. I wouldn't tell him.
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But the thing in his chest, wordless and so important, won't let him just watch as Will shrinks away. He pushes farther up, sitting with his hands flat against the floor.]
Hey. [It's soft, assuring; his Will Voice.] What's wrong? Is it what I said?
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No, it's -- you were being so nice and I. Made it weird. Didn't I? [he still can't look up, hands fluttering around a little before they come to rest on his own thighs. he wants to reach out again, wants to go back to being warm and safe and curled up on top of mike, where nothing in the world could get to him. not demogorgons, not deerington, not anything.]
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It's... different, I think. You had to deal with so much at home, but I didn't- [Oh lord, more words, about himself. Can't they just talk about Will forever?] I didn't realize all the way 'til I was in Deerington, and everyone was talking about how normal and fine it is here, and in the future - even in Indiana.
[He finally reaches back out, slowly and cautiously, halfway afraid Will is going to bolt; his finger's light on Will's elbow, soft as a breath. And even softer, like he's relaying some kind of holy secret-]
Wade's from the future, and he's dating Spider-Man. Even Spider-Man likes boys.
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he wonders if it became normal for mike too.
so, despite his awkwardness, his hesitation, will moves so his hand rests back in mike's, looking down like he has to watch carefully as their fingers tangle together, even though he's done it a million times.]
...Spider-Man likes girls too, though. [he glances up, quickly, under his shaggy hair.] Do you -- still like them? Girls?
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His ears feel very warm.]
I-I don't know. I think so. [He has thought. He's thought a lot, and he's mostly sure that he's fairly certain he still likes girls at least fifty percent of the time. Because so far in his life he's liked two people, and one was a girl and one was a boy, and that math works out pretty neatly.] Maybe I'm like Spider-Man.
[Just without the superpowers, which is honestly a drag when you get bullied just as much as Spider-Man too.]
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That'd be cool. Spider-Man's cool. [and mike is cool, that goes without saying. will swallows hard, licks his lips, looks up at mike again with those big, solemn, wide eyes.] ...you know it doesn't change anything. Right? I don't -- you're still my best friend. You're still you.
[he's saying what he wants to hear, what he's always prayed people (his mom, jonathan, his friends) would say if his secret ever got out. but it's true. nothing could change the place mike occupies, that sacred role of best friend, protector, leader. the person will loves more desperately and helplessly than anyone.]
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[His fingers twitch against Will's, still full of the same buzzing, fumbling energy, but something feels different, better. He doesn't have the sense that if he doesn't jump, if he doesn't blurt something out, it's all going to unravel away from him.]
You're always gonna be, okay?
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so he nods, finally. squeezes mike's hand a little tighter.]
Okay.