For every remaining day of Mike's winter break, he and Will talk on the phone at eight P.M. sharp. He's usually with Lucas and Dustin during the day, and it gets to the point that he's coming up with excuses to cut their campaigns short so often that, on Saturday, Lucas calls him out on it. "You've been acting really weird the last few nights," he says, crossing his arms. "This is about Eleven, isn't it?"

Mike is so surprised that most of the nerves that flared up when Lucas started to talk dissipate. "What? No, it's not. I haven't talked to her since Vecna."

"Okay, but you keep kicking us out for reasons that you won't tell us. We're your best friends. There's obviously something going on with you. If you're not sneaking off to talk to El, then what is it?"

Mike considers this for a second. It's not exactly that he doesn't want his friends to know he and Will are talking again. If anything, Mike has been itching for years for somebody to talk to about Will. But they're Will's friends, too, and a lot of the story belongs to Will—isn't anything that it's Mike's place to share without Will's permission. For one thing, he doesn't know how to explain to them without betraying Will's trust why Will freaked out so badly last June, why Mike is so terrified of how this latest stint of friendship is going to wind up, or what exactly is the nature of Will's feelings for him. For another…

Sure, Mike could tell them that he might be feeling something romantic for Will. He could say that much without revealing anything about whether Will reciprocates. But how's he supposed to tell Dustin and Lucas about it when he doesn't even fully understand it himself? For all the thinking Mike has done—and he's done a lot of thinking—all he really knows is that he wants to see where this thing with Will might go if they try it, not that he has any idea whatsoever where it would end up.

Besides, what if it doesn't end up anywhere? What's the point of humiliating himself to Lucas and Dustin with his gay-ass confusion if he won't even have a relationship to show for it? After all, Mike already knows that's where this is leading—to Mike being disappointed all over again, just like in June. No way does Will jump from having a freaking mental breakdown just from a few days in the car with Mike to dating him. There's just no way.

It's probably for the best, at any rate. It doesn't even make sense for Mike to want to go in deep with somebody who flinches every time Mike speaks to him. He's better off sticking with sane people—and girls. He knows he likes girls, anyway, so why not spare himself a whole bunch of discomfort and embarrassment by only looking at them?

But at the same time—Mike's head has been feeling like it's going to explode for months now from bottling up all the shit that's happened with Will. If not Dustin or Lucas, who else is he supposed to confide in about it? El knows, but she's obviously out of the question—he's not talking to his ex-girlfriend about his boy problems. Jonathan knows, too, but he's made it pretty damn clear that he sees this thing as having sides and is on Will's, not Mike's.

So he braces himself for impact and responds, "I'm not talking to El every night. I'm talking to Will."

For a few moments, they all talk over each other. First of all, Lucas says incredulously, "Will? I thought he hated you," at the same time as Dustin snaps his fingers and says, "I knew it. I knew what you were hiding had something to do with him."

Mike's eyes go wide, and he asks Dustin, "Wait, he told you?" at the same time as Lucas goes, "What are you talking about? And why do you know something I don't?"

Dustin says, "I didn't know anything until I invited him to stay here over break, but—"

So then Lucas says, "Why is this the first I'm hearing about you inviting Will over for break?" at the same time as Mike says, "Then why is he calling me every night if he didn't want to see me for Christmas?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," says Dustin. "I just didn't want to make things weird by bringing it up—"

"Why would that make things weird?" Lucas asks. Dustin and Mike exchange a look, and Lucas glares at them both. "One of you two better start talking right now and explain to me what the hell you're both on about and why I'm the last to hear about it. Mike, you and Will have been acting really weird about each other for years, and I'm sick of being the last person to—"

"Will is gay," Mike interrupts.

Dustin reaches forward and smacks Mike on the forehead.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"That's Will's business to decide to share, asshole! He was all over the place when I wormed it out of him. Do you have any idea how hard it must be for him to tell people about that?"

And Mike doesn't think—just speaks. "Yeah, actually, I do know how hard it is to come out. Will isn't the only one carrying around a big sexuality secret."

"What? No way are you gay, too. You dated Eleven for years," says Lucas when—you guessed it—at the same time, Dustin says, "Hold on a sec. If Will likes you, and you like him, then why is he still avoiding you?"

"I'm not gay. I don't know what I am. I like girls, too," says Mike in a rush. He feels horrified—he can feel his face heating up—but now that the words are coming, he can't stop them. "I don't know, okay? But I didn't figure it out until months, maybe even years, after I knew how Will felt about me, and I just wasn't—I wasn't ready. And then everything got complicated, and—"

"What's complicated about it? Why was he acting like a wounded puppy on the phone the other day if you're into him?" snaps Dustin.

"I can't believe you two are gay for each other," mutters Lucas. "Of all the things—"

"It's all tied up with mental illness for him," says Mike heavily. "That's the problem. That's why we can't just take what we want to take. I'm some kind of…"

"Trigger," Dustin supplies. "He called you one of his triggers. I just thought, when he said that, that he meant…"

Lucas says flatly, "I still don't get it. If it's not about rejection, then what else is it triggering?"

Mike hesitates. If Will knew that Mike revealed his borderline personality disorder to anyone else without his okay… "I can't tell you that," he says finally. "You'll have to talk to Will if you want to know."

"Jesus," says Dustin, while Lucas just rolls his eyes.

"I have to go," Mike insists. "I told him I'd answer when he calls at eight tonight. I'll just—I'll see you guys tomorrow. I'll tell you everything I can, I swear. Okay?"

"Your explanation better be really damn impressive," grouses Lucas.

But Dustin knits his eyebrows together and says, "Hey, Mike? Before we go?"

"Yeah?"

"It's cool if it turns out you're whatever you are—bisexual, I guess. I'm not going to… I'm cool with it, that's all."

Lucas still looks annoyed, but he adds, "Yeah. You and Will. We're still going to be here for you."

The fist clenched around Mike's heart loosens a little. "Thanks. I… thank you."

He only has a couple of minutes to himself before he's expecting Will's phone call. Mike practically runs from the basement up to his bedroom, sits on the bed by the phone on the table, and just—tries to unwind. It doesn't work.

It strikes Mike suddenly that he can't take this back—can't undo the fact that Lucas and Dustin know about him. He's positively dreading seeing them in the morning, but maybe it'll help, you know? Maybe, once they've had a night to process it, they'll be nothing but supportive, and Mike can clear the air and feel good about them knowing.

Of course, Mike doesn't really want to talk to Dustin or Lucas about his sexuality. Mostly, he just wants to talk to Will.

It's complicated, how he feels about Will. He can't say he understands Will's sentiment about getting addicted to the person you're in love with—Mike was fine, after all, for all those months that he and Will weren't talking. In some ways, Mike was relieved when Will moved away and they fell out of touch; Will had been looking at Mike with such intensity for so long that Mike had been feeling a little stifled before that.

But then Will kissed Mike in the kitchen over Thanksgiving, and it got gross—but not necessarily for the reasons Mike wanted it to be gross. If anything, Mike thinks he tried to think of it as gross to shove down his own budding intrigue. It made him reevaluate every interaction he and Will had ever had—that terrible fight they had out in the rain when Will said he'd thought they'd never get girlfriends or grow up—

It wasn't so bad, thinking that Will might like Mike like that. In a way, it kind of flattered him—kind of interested him. But that wasn't fair to Will, either, was it? If Mike was going to say anything, it shouldn't have been because he wanted his ego stroked.

So he waited and thought on it and puzzled it all out, and somewhere along the way, it became apparent that Will's feelings for Mike weren't normal feelings or even normal gay feelings. They were different. Messy. Tainted.

Every time they talked, Mike was sure it would be the last, especially after all the shit that happened in June—but he figured, okay, this was for the best, right? Crisis averted. Clearly, Will was moving right along with his life and leaving Mike behind, and it was probably better that way, and it was definitely a relief not to have to confront the way Mike thought of him.

Because the way Mike did think of him—

He remembered every time he and Will were ever alone together, every time Mike listened to him, every time Mike comforted him. He remembered the kiss in that motel room, replaying it over and over again in his mind like he'd never get anything else. He remembered the way Will looked at him when he was possessed by the Mind Flayer. He remembered the rush of warmth in his belly every time his and Will's eyes connected—every time he felt useful, felt worthwhile.

He felt like an idiot for not chasing that when he had the chance when Will first moved away. If only Mike had stayed in touch, maybe Will would have felt safe, eventually, coming out to Mike, and maybe then they could have found out what they could be together.

Will still would have been addicted, but—would it still have been a problem? If Mike could have given Will everything Will wanted from the beginning—

The phone rings. Mike picks it up in an instant. "Hello?"

"Hi," says Will quietly.

"Hi," Mike repeats, quieter, gentler, kinder. Most days, they don't have much to say to each other—mostly, it's just nice to hear Will's voice—but today, he screwed up, and he knows it, and he's got to come clean before Will hears it from Dustin or Lucas. "Look, there's, uh… there's something I have to tell you."

"What is it?"

"It's not a big deal," Mike lies smoothly. "It's just—I kind of—Dustin and Lucas—they found out some stuff."

Will doesn't answer right away. "What stuff?"

"That I… that we…"

"They know about me?" Will's voice cracks on this.

"No! Not about you—being sick or your BPD or anything. They don't know why we never… but they know we're… I told them I liked you, and Dustin told Lucas you liked me, and—they're pretty confused, really. You might get a couple of confused phone calls over the next few days."

He tries his damndest to play this like it's no big deal, but he's sure that Will sees through it. His shame roars up inside him. If he wanted any chance of Will staying…

But Will doesn't hang up. He doesn't lash out. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all.

"I'm sorry Dustin shared that with Lucas if you weren't ready for him to know," Mike continues in the same falsely calm voice, "and I'm sorry if me telling them about you being gay raised questions that you aren't—"

"It's okay," says Will quickly, scratchily. "I mean, I already told Dustin I'm borderline, even if I didn't explain it very well. Anyway, it's like I was telling Dustin. Some of this is about you, too, and… I want you to have people you can lean on."

"I don't need to lean on anybody," Mike dismisses. "I just—"

"I'm not going to crack up the second someone asks me a direct question. I'm not going to break."

Nonplussed, Mike says, "I never said you were."

Will sighs. "Sorry. I'm just… I guess I'm tired of feeling like the fragile one."

And Will is fragile, but Mike doesn't mind it. He really doesn't. In fact—

—but that's not fair to Will, is it? The point isn't supposed to be for Mike to swoop in and save him. He tried that already, and in the end, it only made things worse. Why does Mike keep making everything worse?

When did everything between Mike and Will get so complicated?

"You're not the fragile one," he says on an impulse. "I am."

Will scoffs at this. "You don't have to say that to make me feel better."

"It's true. You turned me away. You said goodbye. I'm the one who's just been stuck in the same place, waiting for you to change your mind."

"But you're not borderline," Will argues. "You don't need me like I need you. It doesn't hurt you like it hurts me."

"Maybe not, but… but that doesn't mean I don't want you. If I could go back…"

Mike suppresses the tide of everything on the tip of his tongue when Will says hastily, "We shouldn't talk like this. My therapist said we shouldn't be talking about anything too emotional."

"Your therapist? Sorry, I'm not trying to make you feel bad about having one, it's just—they thought us talking would be a good idea?"

Will laughs darkly. "Honestly? I don't know. I think half of what she tells me is just to humor me. She hasn't tried to claim yet that the stuff I talk about isn't real."

"But it's helping, going to therapy?"

After a pause, Will says, "Yeah. Yeah, it's helping. I'm just scared I'm going to throw everything I've learned out the window by talking to you."

"And… and you called anyway?"

"I just wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, now that I've been through therapy and everything, the way I couldn't in June. I don't want to live my whole life on pause, you know? I want to be better. I want…"

Mike wants Will, he's thinking, but he doesn't say so. "You can," he says instead. "You survived the Mind Flayer. You survived—well—me. You can do anything."

"But I—"

"Yes, you can. I know you can."

Will sighs. "Yeah. Thanks."

Mike closes his eyes and pictures for the millionth time what it felt like to kiss Will for real—to get Mike's hands everywhere they could reach—for Will to cup his cheeks and fall onto the bed underneath him. It's gone. It's all gone, and it's a minute of Mike's life that he's never going to get back.

He learned this year from his psychology teacher that the more you replay a memory, the more your brain forgets it—the further away you get from what it really was like when it happened for real. It makes Mike feel sort of panicked to know that every time he relives kissing Will, he's forgetting another little piece of how it really felt.

It's like he told Will: he may not need him, but he wants him. He wants any piece of him that Mike can have.