based on this concept of steve and mike coming out to each other
đ€ also on ao3
The sun is setting in beautiful hues of pink and purple, tinging the town of Hawkins, Indiana, in a light of serenity and beauty it doesnât really deserve. Steveâs hands are gripped tight around the steering wheel as he carefully scans the road and the houses he passes.
He almost misses the bike where itâs lying on the curb, carelessly discarded by the looks of it, and a tinge of worry shadows his frown. Worry that doesnât quite dissipate when he spots the figure sitting on the roof, almost black against the lilac colour of the sky, but he breathes a sigh of relief. He considers grabbing the radio to let the others know he found Mike, but decides against it. Something tells him that maybe theyâll take a while. Something tells him thereâs more to Willâs stunned silence and Mikeâs sudden departure from where they were all hanging out at Steveâs after another successful Hellfire session.Â
With a sigh, Steve cuts the engine and gets out of the car, keeping his eyes on Mike the whole time â ready for him to take off again, ready to go sit a while and wait for him to come back. But Mike doesnât move, even after he shuts the door and approaches the Wheelersâ house. He doesnât acknowledge Steve when he pulls himself up to the roof, easier this time than the first time he did this.Â
Thereâs a snide comment in the air between them, a version of Mike that would have lashed out at him, made fun of and insulted him. But this one just sits there, hands in his lap, frown on his face, and stares ahead.Â
âWhat do you want,â he asks eventually, though it doesnât have the kind of heat that Steve expects. He barely even sounds like a teenager. Just sort of⊠dejected. Steve aches for him; just a little bit.Â
âJust making sure youâre alright,â Steve says, shrugging, looking ahead as well so Mike doesnât feel watched. Or seen, maybe.Â
Because the thing is, Steve does see him. He sees the way he looks at Will sometimes, and the way his eyes fill with something that can only be described as yearning, or aching, followed by regret and fear. Which always, always turn into anger. Into frustration. Into snide comments and rolled eyes and walls that keep getting an inch added to them each day. Itâs never directed at Will, that anger, and rarely at the rest of the Party, but Steve still sees it. Gets the worst of it and takes it, because he knows something about how that feels.Â
He knows something about looking at someone like that, about feeling that fear, that regret, that worry that come with it. He knows something about never really daring to meet someoneâs eyes for fear of what they would see.Â
âIâm alright,â Mike says, sounding anything but. Thereâs a bitterness in his voice. Frustration in the way his thumb is picking at the skin of his fingers. Confusion in the tension of his shoulders, and Steve feels like he only needs to make one wrong move, say one wrong word, make a single sound thatâs off key to the melody of this moment, and Mike will jump off the roof and take off again with his bike.Â
So all he says, after a momentâs consideration, is, âCool.â Like he believes him. Giving Mike room to breathe, room to pretend. He knows something about that, too.Â
He knows and he sees and he feels.Â
And suddenly he wants to say something heâs never said before, something he didnât even get to tell Robin because she knew and saw and felt, too, taking something from him that he hasnât yet been ready to reclaim for himself.Â
And maybe itâs because he sees something of himself in the way Mike holds himself, in the way he snaps at anyone willing to listen, in the way he frowns in regret and barely meets anyoneâs eyes except when itâs in challenge â and, most of all, in the way he never, never meets Willâs eyes. In the way he looks away when the other boy turns to him, and in the way his eyes will snap back and take in everything about his best friend when heâs not aware of it.Â
Maybe itâs because the sky is pink and lilac and purple above them, allowing for a certain magic to happen, allowing for a bravery that doesnât come easy to him; but as he sits on the roof next to Mike Wheeler, the only one of the Party he never really connected with, he closes his eyes against the breeze that catches in his hair and opens his jacket a little further, slithering beneath the fabric as if in a brief embrace, a nudge, a sign to take this leap, and takes a deep breath.Â
His heart is picking up its pace inside his chest, taking this leap along wit him, and pulls up one of his legs to wrap his hands around it â just to have something to hold onto.Â
He opens his mouth once, twice, three times, but the words never really come out. They donât know how, and heâs beginning to tremble a little with it, tension building in his chest where the words are still locked away, hidden among layers of truth.Â
Mike looks over with a frown and eyes him warily. It makes Steve want to laugh, this sudden change of pace, but he just keeps staring ahead; even when Mike asks, âAre you alright?âÂ
âYeah,â Steve says. And then then dam is broken and breaking further, and with another deep breath, still not meeting Mikeâs eyes, instead focusing on the tree tops in the distance that shine in hues of purple, he finally says, âIâm kind of dating Eddie Munson.âÂ
And just like that, itâs out. Heâs out.Â
He doesnât know if the world still spins, if time still passes, if he still breathes, because for a moment there is only silence. Mike stops picking at the skin of his fingers, Steve stops trembling, and neither of them moves.Â
Itâs both anticlimactic and momentous, this silence between them when their eyes meet. When the words unfold and grow wings, when Mike understands, his eyes growing big with something that Steve canât quite read with how tense he is despite his best efforts.Â
The silence stretches between them, surpassing comfort and overstaying its welcome, and suddenly itâs Steve who feels like heâs about to take off if Mike so much as twitches his brows.Â
âYou⊠What?âÂ
Forget it, Steve wants to say. Nothing.Â
But also, Iâm in love with Eddie Munson. And I used to be in love with Nancy. And thatâs okay. Both of that, itâs okay.Â
He ends up repeating his words, though, because they know what itâs like to be spoken now. âEddie. Iâm kind of dating Eddie.âÂ
âButâŠâ Itâs Mike now whose mouth is opening and closing without saying anything. Mike whoâs blinking, trembling a little, twitching, picking at his skin again, moving further along his hand this time to pinch the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Steve almost reaches out to stop him, but he doesnât really dare to.Â
âBut?â he prompts after a while, not quite comfortable with this loaded kind of silence.Â
âEddieâs a boy.âÂ
But Tammy Thompson is a girl.Â
âI know,â Steve says, his tone carefully neutral, wanting to see, to wait where Mike takes this, to hear whatâs on his mind, to watch the wheels turn and the gears shift. He feels awfully raw and open, vulnerable with someone who hasnât been treating that with care yet. But thereâs something about this moment that feels bigger than his own fears, bigger than the light nausea settling in his gut; far more important than the way he wants to run and hide, away from the scrutiny.Â
âAndâŠâ Mike continues, still battling the words inside his head. Steve wonders if there are too many or none at all. âBut you⊠You loved Nancy.âÂ
Ah. Smart boy. âI did,â Steve says with a small smile. âAnd it was never a lie. But I found that⊠Yeah, I can kinda like boys, too, yâknow? And thatâs, like, okay.â
A beat. A frown. A confused, hopeful, small, âIt is?âÂ
Steve just nods, smiling in reassurance and relief at equal measures. Silence settles once more, now that the sky has darkened into a deeper, darker blue; but itâs not as loaded this time, not as tense. Itâs an invitation. An offering. A promise of Iâm here, Iâm with you, you can take as long as you need. To get down from the roof, to come back, to come out of wherever you think you need to hide from the world.Â
Mike takes it. He stays, pulling up his leg, too, mirroring Steveâs pose and staring ahead, but not as far away. He seems alert, seems to be thinking rather than dwelling, seems to be gearing up for something. Steve watches and sees and knows, remaining patient beside him, his chin resting on his knee as Mike learns to deal with this new world that has been presented to him. This new world that comes with opportunities and chances and possibilities that are scary and big and difficult to make.Â
âYâknow,â Mike starts at last, interrupting the silence, playing with it, his voice hushed and quiet to keep it from disappearing completely. âLucas, when he had that championship game? He told us, Dustin and me, that we didnât have to be the losers this time. The nerds. The outcasts. Different. And all I wanted was to scream at him, becauseâŠâÂ
Mike swallows his words, keeping them from tumbling out of his mouth, and Steve aches for him again. He wants to reach out, wants to say itâs okay, tell him itâs alright, to take his time. But he waits in silence, lets Mike find the bravery he needs on his own, and waits.Â
âBecause how could he say that, you know? How could he, when⊠Will wasnât there. And all I did, all I ever did anymore, was miss him. And I loved El, I knew I did. And she was gone, too, butâŠâÂ
He trails off again, and this time Steve picks it up. To let him know heâs not alone. To let Mike know he understands what heâs saying. He understands. âBut sheâs not Will. You needed Will.âÂ
âBut I shouldnât!â Mike explodes suddenly, riled up because Steve adds fuel to the fire, because Steve has that same fire, too; and because they are so, so similar when they want to be. âAnd now heâs back and it should be fine, I shouldnât be feeling like this, it doesnât even make sense! How can IâŠâÂ
Steve looks at him, at his expression that is nothing but lost â completely and utterly. Heâs seen it on the bathroom floor at the mall; high out of his mind as he was, heâll never forget the way Robin looked at him, the sheer crestfallen expression. All that confusion, all that fear and frustration and, in the end, resignation. Heâs seen it in the mirror, and heâs seen it in those pretty brown eyes that he just canât get out of his head anymore.Â
He offers, gently, âHow can you need him when heâs right there? How can you love him when a year ago you loved El?â
And Mike just looks at him before he deflates completely, his shoulders falling along with his face. He nods. Shrugs. Looks away and hides his face behind his leg.Â
Steve sighs softly, watching the boy and speaking the words he wants to say the sixteen year-old version of himself. âI donât know,â he says truthfully. âI really donât, and it sucks sometimes, having this need to, like, decide. Or understand. Or stop and be like the rest of them.â Like Robin and Eddie, or like the rest of the world. âBut I like to think, sometimes, that maybe itâs a good thing. That thereâs just⊠I donât know, it sounds corny as hell, but like, thereâs just so much love to give, we canât even stick to only boys or girls, yâknow.âÂ
âThat does sound real corny as fuck, man,â Mike says, and back is that long suffering tone of his, back is that eye roll and the twitching elbow, ready to nudge Steve in the side. Itâs still tinged with that vulnerability, not quite Mike yet, but itâs an offering.
One of many tonight, it seems.
Steve grins, a bit lopsided and raw, shoving Mike gently as he remembers something he overheard once. âSorry, mister Heart of our group, but I donât think you have any leg to stand on here.â
That makes Mike freeze, though, and he stares at Steve wide-eyed; caught. Exposed. Reminded.
âWhat did you say?â
âUh,â Steve falters, not sure where he went wrong â or if he went wrong at all. âI overheard Will calling you that, talking about you to, uhm. Someone. I donât know. Why, whatâsâ Whatâs wrong?â
âNothing,â Mike says, way too quickly, pulling away again with everything he has, hiding behind those walls once more, and Steve feels whiplash from it.
âMike,â he says, his voice quiet and gentle as he turns to face him completely.
âNo.â
âItâs okay,â Steve says. Promises, as much as he can.
âShut up!â
âYouâre not wrong or bad or broken. Itâs okay, youâre okay.â
âI said, shut up, Steve.â
âYou should see the way he looks at you, too. You should go talk to him. Youââ
Mike lashes out, finally coming out from behind those walls again, only to shove at Steve, to push him away â hard enough for him to lose his balance and almost fall off the roof, clenching one hand on the edge, the other in the rainwater gutter with a bitten-off curse.
âShit, Iâm sorry!â Mike reaches for him immediately, snapping out of whatever anger Steve caused, and pulling him back until heâs safe again, apologising over and over, dead to Steveâs promises that itâs alright. âFuck, Iâm so sorry, Steve, Iâm soââ
He pulls Mike against his chest, finally reaching out to hold the boy who always pushes people away when they get too close â quite literally, too.
But he doesnât shove this time, doesnât move out of Steveâs grasp as the mumbled apologies become heaving sobs.
âItâs okay, youâre okay, youâre so okay, Mike,â Steve tells him over and over as he holds him. The sky above is almost black now and Steve lets Mike cry into his chest.
It takes a while for Mike to calm down, but Steve just holds him through it, ready to let go whenever Mike wants to pull back and snap out of it again â but he never does, and Steve feels a certain kind of affection for the boy that is usually reserved for Lucas or Dustin.
At last, when heâs calmed down, Mike pulls back a little. âDo you really⊠Does it⊠Is it really okay?â
Can it be okay? Can I really like both? Is that not just me, being broken and wrong and bad? Will I get the chance to not be alone?
Steve swallows hard, and his voice is hoarse when he says, âYeah. Itâs really okay. âNâ Iâm with you, yeah? If someone gives you shit for it. Or if you need a reminder.â
And Mike â puffy eyed, snotty nosed, so, so young â looks at him with those trusting eyes and nods, like he believes Steve. Like he trusts him. Like he hopes.
âJust donât fucking shove me off your roof again.â
Ans just like that, the spell is broken, the tension is lifted, and silence has left them, as Mike almost chokes on a laugh and shoves at him again, lightly this time, before jumping off the roof so Steve canât retaliate.
âAsshole,â he mutters, shaking his head as he, too, jumps off the roof, dusting off his pants as he watches Mike grabbing his bike. âHey, Micycle,â he calls, cackling when Mike flips him the bird. âYou want a ride back?â
Mike stops, considering as Steve casually flicks his keys into the air and catches them expertly. âWhat kinda music do you got?â
âThe Clash, âcause Eddie hates them.â
âYeah, thatâs because they suck!â
Steve snorts, opening the driverâs side door. âYâknow, theyâre one of Willâs favourites, actually.â
He watches Mike freeze with a grin on his face, knowing thereâs no way the boy would take the bike.
âYouâre so annoying,â Mike sighs as he brings his bike close to the garage and carefully lays it on the grass this time before hurrying over to Steve, getting in on the front, rolling his eyes when Steve cackles. âI donât know why Eddie would date youââ
His words are drowned out when Steve turns up Train in Vain, drumming along on the steering wheel with a shit eating grin. Though the atmosphere is wildly different now, the spell broken and the bubble burst, itâs undeniable that something happened between them. Something big, something important.
Something that makes Mikeâs annoyed, long-suffering expression be broken by the smile heâs trying to hide. It makes Steve laugh, elated and feeling something thatâs much, much bigger than he himself ever could be.
Itâs going to be okay. So, so okay.
Before they know it, theyâre pulling up to Steveâs and he turns off the car, is about to get out when Mike makes him still again.
âHey, Steve?â
âHm?â
âI think itâs cool. You and Eddie.â
He smiles, relief and fondness washing over him. âYeah?â
âYeah.â
âThanks.â He reaches over and ruffles Mikeâs hair â a wild mane these days, but they could make it work with some care and some products. âNow go get your man, lover boy.â
âGod, you suck so much, youâre so annoying!â
Steveâs cackling again when the passenger door slams shut and Mike lets himself into his house.
He spots a figure in the dark, their face lighting up when they take a drag of a cigarette â and Steveâs heart stumbles in his chest. He scrambles to get out, attempting to look calm and collected, even though Eddie always manages to see right through him.
âHello, stranger,â he says, leaning against the wall beside Eddie, hiding away in the dark, where the world wonât see their shoulders touch, or their fingers tentatively playing with each other before they canât take it no longer and lace their hands, holding on tight.
âHi,â Eddie breathes. âHowâd it go?â
âFine, I think. But, uhm⊠I told him. About me. About us. That, uh. That okay?â
Even in the dark, Steve can feel eyes on him, but he just stares ahead, opting instead to give his warm hand a squeeze. He smiles when Eddieâs thumb begins to draw patterns on his palm.
âHmm. Very. You think theyâll be okay?â
âYeah,â Steve breathes, stealing Eddieâs cigarette from his mouth and pulling it between his own lips. âYeah, I think they will be.â
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