don’t make out in closets, Shiro WILL know if you do 👀

Kiana Khansmith
wallacepolsom

roma★

JVL
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I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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Jules of Nature
Stranger Things
$LAYYYTER
sheepfilms
Keni
Claire Keane

#extradirty

blake kathryn
🪼
Cosmic Funnies

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@123girllover
don’t make out in closets, Shiro WILL know if you do 👀
Zuko’s swt visits throughout their relationship :)
Zuko’s swt visits throughout their relationship :)
drarry but they are in love and not arch nemesis
Yknow what ? I think Byler getting Murray’d would be more heartfelt than anything else.
Because like-
Murray doesn’t just call out Jopper and Jancy because it’s obvious. He points it out because he knows they’re being stupid. In their cases, it’s really just them not communicating their feelings to one another and trying to pretend they don’t exist.
But with Byler it’s like…it’s different.
Because it’s not just that is it? We’re not just watching two people pine over one another whilst being oblivious to the fact they other likes them back. We’re not just looking at two people who can’t communicate well. There’s more to it.
Because they’re two boys who have been best friends since childhood. They grew up at the peak of the AIDS epidemic. They live in a small town and they’re expected to act a certain way. It’s different for them.
I don’t think Murray is gonna waltz in acting all holier than thou and essentially out both Mike and Will to one another. He’s a smart man as we’ve seen. He’s attentive. He doesn’t just call jancy and jopper out to prove a point he knows what they both need to hear so they can get over their miscommunication hurdle.
I think he’s going to go up to them. Either both or just Mike or Will or whatever, and he’s going to talk to them about it. Because that’s what they need. They need someone to talk to them about it. And I don’t think he would start with just directly talking about it. I think he (and this is me headcanonning Murray as queer) would open up first. Like about his own experiences- to show them that he gets it, and he knows what it’s like. And then he would casually bring up the whole byler thing.
Hmmm something along the lines of...
do they know that her gay boyfriend is gonna be kissing her gay brother in hell next season
do they know that her gay boyfriend is gonna be kissing her gay brother in hell next season
babe what's wrong? you've hardly touched your 200 fics you opened in a new tab and swore you'd get to at some point but never had the time or motivation to read
say “lucas is spending all his time at the hospital with max cause he loves her” and no one bats an eye, say “mike did the exact same thing in season two” and society goes wild.
“People treating Will Byers like he’s actually Jesus” and so what if I am. Here’s my multi-page analysis on why Will Byers is the actual second-coming of Christ
the zombie boy poster made me sad but i just know if mike knew that he would change it. anyways established miwi s2
tyler: I learned some very valuable lessons from this.
xavier: I’m guessing they are all horrible distortions on the lessons you actually should’ve taken away.
tyler: Death isn’t real, and I’m basically God.
Sheriff Galpin comes home early and walks in on Tyler posing on the couch shirtless, with Xavier drawing him like one of his French girls.
“WHAT THE HELL??”
Tyler jumps, startled. “Dad!”
“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?”
“Dad… it’s not what it looks like…”
“Uh huh, and what the hell does this look like?”
Then Xavier awkwardly chimes in “Your son Uh… he has a really nice physique and I was just… drawing him for my art class.”
Sheriff’s mouth hangs open as he stares at both of them in disbelief. Then he says:
“I’m gonna go get a beer and when I come back, you two better be out of my sight. Get off the couch, put your goddamn shirt back on, Tyler.”
Once he gets a beer, he sits down and picks up his phone to text Wednesday Addams:
“You’re not gonna believe this.”
“I tell my son to stay away from you and he goes and gets a man-bun friend who likes to draw his abs.”
Lance never shuts the fuck up.
Keith can’t get enough of it.
It’s been like that for as long as Keith can remember. Lance was the motormouth in, like, 6 of his classes; always had his hand up with a question or answer, and comments in between. Keith had been annoyed with it, that first year.
But then he’d shared classes with Lance again.
And again.
And again.
By then, they’d had their fair share of group projects together. Keith came to know that for all he was a rambling mess, Lance was really fucking smart, and funny besides. He was also endlessly kind and supportive, at least when he wasn’t egging on their rivalry that he’d invented (and that Keith hadn’t known they’d had — not that he wasn’t an active participant, once he knew. Riling Lance up was the most fun he’d had in ages).
Keith doesn’t remember exactly when he’d started smiling whenever Lance looked at him, feeling proud whenever Lance got a question right in class. Doesn’t remember when the mild annoyance turned to genuine appreciation. He does remember looking down at his notes one day, in Algebra II, only to discover a blank page, and realising that he’d spent the whole class just watching Lance talk. (He also remembers feeling pleased instead of the disappointment he should have felt, because he figured he’d have an excuse to hear Lance talk more if he asked him to help Keith catch up. He knew he was in quite the mess, then.)
Keith knew he had a crush on Lance, after that. And Keith was never one to sit idly — he’d asked Lance on a date right then and there. Lance had, for the first time in Keith’s working memory, gone speechless. (And quite the pretty shade of red.)
The speechlessness didn’t last long, that’s for damn certain. Keith took Lance to the Applebee’s at the plaza near his house that very night, because Shiro worked there and would give him a discount. Also, Lance had once mentioned he liked the lemonade there.
Keith met Lance there because neither of them had their full license yet. He doesn’t remember what exact table they sat at, only that they must have been near a window, because Keith remembers swooning over the sunlight warming Lance’s beautiful brown eyes no less than six times. They’d ordered, Keith some sort of fried dish and Lance — Lance had ordered a four-cheese fettuccine with a garden salad and, of course, a lemonade. Keith remembers so specifically because Lance spent the next thirty minutes excitedly telling him every piece of history surrounding the dish, down to the prehistoric origins of wheat-made pasta and the disturbing account of the first pink lemonade. He’d looked sheepish after looking at his watch and realising how long he’d been talking, and Keith hadn’t known how to assure him that Lance could narrate every detail of paint drying in a wall and Keith would swallow up every word.
(Later that night, Shiro sent him a picture he took while the both of them were distracted — Lance, animatedly waving a fork in the air as he lectured, and Keith, chin in his hands, meal forgotten, looking at Lance with a face more besotted than he knew he was even capable of making.
Keith sent the photo to Lance, asking him if he’d like to go out again, confessing that he enjoyed every second of Lance’s rambling.
Lance said yes. Very quickly.)
The rest, to a degree, had been history. They’d dated for the rest of high school, staying together even as they attended university and trade school on either side of the country. It was easy, really. Lance made sure they always had something to talk about. (Lance loved university. He was enamoured with every second of it, every niche interest of his getting its fill. He switched his major fourteen separate times, chasing every one of his ambitions, and Keith loved every story he heard. He also liked becoming an expert by proxy, because that was inevitable — you could only hear about the important of spiders in the ecosystem so many dozen times before the information was reflective whenever someone brought up the subject.)
As soon as Keith got his mechanic’s certificate — and he passed his exam in the highest percentile, meaning he could practice anywhere in the country, much to his pleasure and Lance’s overwhelming pride — he took off to California, his one and only thought being that he had to get to Lance. (Not that it had been impulsive — this was planned, something they’d been waiting for. Did Keith run over as soon as he could? Yeah, kinda. So maybe it was a little impulsive. But mostly it was planned.)
Not to sound like a Disney princess, but Keith really felt like their life began once they moved in together. Keith was able to find a job at a pretty decent garage, bring in money for them immediately. Lance had his library job until he graduated, and of course then he was snatched up by the nearest ecological restoration effort — he got to spend his days crawling through the forest, fawning over every tiny bug and critter. He is so fucking cute. Keith loves him more than anything in the world.
Lance’s constant lectures never stopped, either — any interest he picked up, he told Keith about it. From his knitting club to the new beetle species he’d found at work, Keith got the pleasure of hearing about it. And it truly was a pleasure. Keith had his fair share of time being a motormouth, too — he’d bought a project bike as soon as they’d saved enough, and spent a fair chunk of free time building it back up. (Lance helped, or at least as much as he could. Mostly he sat in their garage, handing Keith tools, and talking about anything he could think of. If Keith could go back and tell his ten year old self what his future would look like… God. Sometimes he can’t even believe how lucky he got.)
Keith has it made. He comes home from work every day to Lance’s beaming smile and gentle teasing about the grease on his clothes. He’s got everything he’s ever wanted. He’s happy. So fucking happy.
Except that things have been a little different, recently. For the past few weeks, he’s been coming home to his usual smile and kiss, but the idle chattering or excited rambles — Keith feels as if they’ve become a rarity. Their home used to be filled with the sound of Lance’s voice, silent only when he’s reading or focused intently on something, eyes narrowed and tongue peeking out of his mouth.
Lance still looks happy. He still curls up with Keith on the couch after dinner, socked feet in Keith’s lap and three million blankets over his shoulders. He still sends Keith a myriad of heart emojis on his lunch break. Their sex life has not suffered.
But the lectures. The constant infodumps of whatever passing thing has grabbed Lance’s attention. They’re gone. And Keith’s devastated about it.
He misses Lance’s voice.
———
Shiro is not getting it.
“It doesn’t sound like a big deal,” he says, voice staticky because signal at the shop is ass. “I mean, maybe you two are just growing up and settling down. How long have you guys been together, now? Seven years? Eight?”
“Almost ten,” Keith says quietly.
Ten years of the same thing. This change is new. It’s strange, and Shiro isn’t getting it at all.
“Exactly! Ten years! You guys were so young when you started dating, kiddo. Hell, Lance was still wearing braces, wasn’t he? I’m not shocked that he’s mellowed out a little.” He chuckles to himself. “Hell, maybe he’s finally just learnt every bit of knowledge he finally can.”
Keith frowns. “I dunno, Shiro. Sometimes I feel like he wants to say something, but he’s holding himself back. Why would he ever hold himself back from me? I don’t — I don’t want him to hold back from me. I like it when he talks.”
“Tell him that, then. The only way you’re going to get answers is if you ask him, you dork.”
“Some brother you are,” Keith mutters, pouting. “You’re supposed to solve things for me.”
“Hm. Pretty sure you’re a grown-ass man who’s capable of solving his own problems, bud.”
“Ugh. You’re horrible. I’m changing the Netflix password to kick you off.”
Shiro laughs. “Sure! No more Costco membership for you. Password sharing goes both ways, you little snot. Now hang up and call your man. I have to leave for work soon.”
Despite his ongoing frustration, Keith can’t help a smile at the familiar banter. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your upcoming fourteen hour shift of hell.”
“Go fuck yourself! Love you!”
“Love you too. Bye.”
It shouldn’t really surprise him that Shiro’s no help. As much as he pesters his brother as often as possible and generally finds joy in making himself into a nuisance, they haven’t seen each other face-to-face since Christmas. They’ve lived in different states for years.
But, still. There’s some part of Keith that will always think of his big brother first when he has a problem. And that part of him had the right ideas, because Shiro is unfortunately right — he really does just need to talk to Lance. There’s not much else he can do.
He spends the rest of his shift wondering how he’s going to bring it up. He has his own motormouth moments, sure, but realistically? Keith doesn’t talk all the much. He’s more of an action person. How the hell is he supposed to breach the subject? ‘Hey, Lance. I’ve noticed that you are talking less. This change has consumed my every thought. I miss the sound of your voice. How come you don’t talk to me about your life anymore?’
Yeah, no. It sounds ridiculous even in his own head. He’ll have to — plan it out, maybe. He’s not sure. He’s never had to worry about making Lance talk more before.
He’s so distracted that he nearly burns off his eyeballs, forgetting to put on his welding mask before trying to make a part he couldn’t source for an older car. His boss sends him home early, worried he might accidentally leave a blowtorch by an air compressor or something and send the whole place up in smoke. Keith tries to take it as a blessing — maybe he’ll ride around on his bike for a while and clear his head. A way to bring it up might come to him naturally.
It doesn’t. He spends the whole ride just stressing himself out. He does drive by a flower stand, and turns around to pick up some poppies and peonies — Lance’s favourite. It won’t breach the subject, or anything, but it’ll make Lance smile. Hell, maybe he’ll start talking to Keith about all the different pollinators that made this bouquet possible. That would be a dream come true.
He hasn’t come up with any new ideas by the time he makes his way home, but he’s less stressed. He sets the flowers on the counter and takes a quick shower. Maybe he’ll start some dinner? Surprise Lance, for a change. Yeah. That won’t solve the problem, but it’ll be nice anyway.
He starts making four-cheese fettuccine and pink lemonade, because he is a sappy loser.
By the time he hears Lance’s key in the lock, he’s got the table set and the food is done. He keeps it heated on the stove, ducking into the bathroom to check his reflection as Lance steps into the apartment.
No grease smudges on his face. His hair is braided, the way that always makes Lance all blushy. He’s wearing the v-neck, too-tight black sweater that Lance likes, too. He’s got this. He doesn’t have a solid plan, or anything, but he thinks maybe if he turns up the romance then Lance will just spill whatever’s wrong. That works in the movies.
“Keith, baby? You home?”
“You have leaves in your hair,” Keith says, stepping out to meet Lance by the door. Lance smiles immediately, laughing to himself as he cards his fingers through his hair in an attempt to find them. Keith takes pity on him after a few seconds of fruitless searching, reaching forward and running gentle hands through the curly mess of his boyfriend’s hair, half to get out the leaves and half just to touch.
“Yeah — climbed a tree to check out a new weaver ant colony. Watched ‘em for hours — pretty boring, I’m sure you don’t want to hear it.”
I want to hear about it, Keith thinks mournfully. Please, please tell me about it.
“I made pasta,” Keith says quietly, when it’s clear that no more details are forthcoming. “And, uh, got you some flowers.” He tugs Lance gently towards the kitchen, placing the flowers in his hands.
“Oh, Keith, they’re gorgeous! Man, I love peonies. They looks like pink cabbages, it’s the best. And poppies —”
Yes, Keith thinks. Tell me about how California poppies were traditionally used as stress-relief medicine, but not like opioid red poppies. Tell me —
“I should put these in a vase,” Lance says instead of any of that. Keith feels like he could cry, honestly. Lance leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek, patting him on the chest. “You want to set the table while I do that? Or do you want to eat on the couch and watch a movie?”
“Table sounds good,” Keith says, because if they watch a movie then there’s no chance of Keith finding out what’s wrong.
“Okay! I’m going to get changed, too, I’ll meet you in ten.” Lance kisses him again and then rushes off. Keith waits until he’s disappeared into their bedroom to cover his face in his hands and scream silently.
Fuck! He just wants his Lance back. So badly. He wants to be woken up at strange hours of the night to hear about how trees communicate. He wants to get spam-texted as he’s trying to work, phone practically buzzing out of his pocket. He wants to hear about marketing strategies when they’re grocery shopping. He wants Lance to get distracted mid-sex by reading the back of the condom box, and then remarking with vague interest that they use the same dye in some cereals.
At the very least, he wants to know why Lance is acting so strange.
“So,” Lance says, once they’ve both settled down at the table and started to eat. “How come you’re home early?”
“Boss sent me home, I was distracted. I’m not mad, honestly. It’s been a while since I’ve done something special for you, which is a travesty.”
Lance smiles. “Dork. I appreciate it, though. Very sweet of you.” He shifts in his seat, tucking his legs up under him and leaning his head on his chin to look at Keith properly. “How come you were distracted?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Thinkin’ about this hot bod all day?”
Keith huffs a laugh. “Somethin’ like that.”
“Tell me! I’m curious now. I have to know or I’ll die.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“Mhm. That’s not even the half of it, and you know it. If you don’t tell me right now I’ll just start listing the names of royals throughout European history and how freaky it is that most of them are directly related.”
Lance is teasing. His tone is light and playful; he’s obviously trying to goad Keith into playing along and groaning theatrically. A few weeks ago, Keith might have given in easily, and started ribbing him about why on Earth he has the names memorized in the first place.
But all Keith can think about is just how badly he would love to hear that.
“Promise?”
Keith’s voice comes out embarrassingly sincere. Soft and hopeful and dead-serious.
Lance’s hand stills, mid pasta-swirl.
“You…want me to? List names of inbred royals?”
Keith swallows. It’s as good of a segue as any, he supposes.
“Yeah.”
“…Why?”
“Because I — I miss your voice, I guess.”
“Keith, I talk all the time,” Lance says, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He snorts to himself. “One might even say it’s my defining quality.”
“You haven’t been. Not recently. You used to talk all the time, but now — I dunno. The house is quiet. I miss you talking about random things. I miss hearing about your day and the million creatures you met and the people you saw on the bus home and the weirdly-shaped stone you tripped over on the sidewalk. I miss you bazillion lunch-break texts. I miss your running commentary when we watch a movie, even though you miss important dialogue and have to rewind to hear it again. I dunno. I just miss you.”
Keith keeps his eyes downcast on his plate as he speaks, and keeps it there after he finishes. He’s finished his food, already, but he can’t bring himself to look at Lance’s face.
“Keith?”
There’s a strange quality to Lance’s voice, a sort of — bewildered breathlessness. Keith risks a glance, finding his boyfriend staring at him with a dropped jaw and wide brown eyes.
“You really — you miss my motormouth?”
Keith shrugs. “I fell in love with your motormouth. Of course I miss it.”
That makes Lance’s cheeks heat, and he glances down at his plate like they’re teenagers again and Keith told him he was cute for the first time.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Keith’s not sure what else to say. He doesn’t know how to express that there’s nothing that Lance does that he dislikes, not truly. Sure, it’s annoying when Lance leaves a million half-full cups of water around the apartment, and Keith is regularly tripping over the shoes that he never puts away for some reason, but there’s nothing — every part of him is precious to Keith. Everything he does and everything he is, Keith knows he can’t live without.
“I know you love me,” Lance whispers. He looks pointedly away from Keith, pushing a couple wayward noodles around on his plate. “I’ve never — I’ve never needed to doubt that.”
Keith swallows. “Good.”
“I — yeah. You show me all the time. And, I mean, look at today! You brought me flowers home just because. You do things like that for me regularly; I never forget that you care about me. But —”
One word. Three measly letters. But it’s enough to feel like a stone is dropping on Keith’s chest.
“— sometimes I feel like I’m too much? Like, I’m kind of intense. I know that. And I can’t always tell when I’m being weird or annoying. And you’d never — you’d never string me along, I know that. If you stopped loving me you’d tell me.”
“I would never stop loving you.” Keith can’t say the words fast enough. He wants to print them out and — tattoo them on his forehead. Melt them into gold and press them into Lance’s hands. Smash them to dust and sprinkle them in the air. Whatever — whatever it takes to prove to Lance that they’re true.
Lance bites his lip. His eyes are wet. “I — I don’t want us to —”
Keith doesn’t wait for the tears to fall. He stands and hurries the two feet over to Lance’s chair, carefully pulling him up and wrapping tight arms around his waist. Lance falls into him willingly, resting his forehead on Keith’s shoulder and leaning into him.
“Three of my coworkers think I’m annoying,” he whispers, long after the food’s gone cold and the light from the window has begun to dim. After Keith’s arms have gone a little numb and a wet spot has grown where Lance’s face is pressed into his shirt. “I just thought — I thought we were friends, but I heard them talking about how exhausting I am to be around. I don’t want — I don’t want you to get tired of me, too.”
Keith closes his eyes as he exhales in a shudder, firmly reminding himself that unfortunately, being a two-faced asshole is not illegal, and Keith has no defense for hunting those shitheads down and murdering them a little.
“They are not worth the ground you walk on,” Keith whispers, pressing a firm kiss to Lance’s hair. “You have more value in your toenail clippings than they do in their entire bodies.”
Lance giggles wetly. “Gross.”
”I mean it,” Keith says, smiling. “I love you, Lance. All of you. I never get tired of listening to you talk. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
———
It takes a while. Those asshole coworkers did a number on Lance’s self-esteem, because they’re horrible, and they deserve every horrible thing that happens to them. Honestly, Keith kind of hopes their cars break down and they have to spend ridiculous amounts of money getting them fixed by idiots, because Keith has quietly blacklisted them to every good mechanic in town. (Not that Lance knows. Lance is too nice to ask for something like that. Keith, however, is a bitch, and has no problem doing shady things to appease his own sense of justice.)
Eventually, though, the apartment stops being so silent. It starts with a shark documentary that takes them three hours to watch because Lance keeps pausing it to point out specific behaviours to Keith. And then they get kicked out of a casino they go to for shits and giggles, because Lance can’t contain himself and points out how the house is strategically winning all the card games they’re calling ‘luck-based’. And then grocery store trips start taking too long again, and Lance gets distracted mid-shower comparing the ingredients of shampoo and conditioner, and then they start a small fire in the apartment because he was explaining how broccoli evolved from mustard seed and burnt a whole pan of stir-fry to a crisp.
One day, seemingly out of the blue, Shiro sends him a picture of him and Lance, fifteen years old, at the shitty town Applebee’s.
I was looking at old pictures, the text reads. And you were right. It is strange that Lance was so quiet. I can’t imagine how that would feel. I’m glad you two worked things out.
Keith looks over at Lance, who’s singing a the periodic table song to himself as he washes the dishes for Keith to dry, and smiles.
He’s glad they worked it out, too.
I really hate it when people say Mike is the only one being a jerk/bad in the melvin "relationship" and act like Eleven is always in the right.
Please don't get me wrong I love both Mike and El as characters so much, but the truth is that they are both toxic to each other.
The part that I think has a lot of good examples of this in the series is Mike and El's fight in her room after the awful day and incident at Rink O' Mania. Mike is trying to understand why El lied to him about her problems with Angela in California, because he of all people would not judge her for being bullied. Especially considering he's been through similar traumatizing experiences basically throughout his entire school career along with Will, Dustin, and Lucas.
Like it actually got so bad that a Knife was pulled on Dustin and Mike was forced to jump off a cliff. And to my knowledge, El knows about this. She literally saw what was happening and saved Mike + Dustin.
If El had been honest with him in her letters of course he would've understood what she's going through and he could have empathized with her.
Now what does El respond with after Mike tries to convey this all to her?
"No"
No! She says No, you don't understand anything about what I'm going through and what being bullied is like, and basically dismisses a part of Mike's school experience and possible trauma. Sure, Mike doesn't know exactly what it's like to specifically be targeted by Angela and her friends but he could've. The fact that El didn't feel like she could tell the truth about this to her literal boyfriend says a lot about their relationship.
There's literally no connection. They dont sympathize with each other at all, or do a good job of communicating truthfully with each other. Maybe there was a better romantic connection between Mike and El in earlier seasons but from what we're seeing it definitely doesn't look like it's there anymore. If they can't treat each other with the bare minimum of understanding that happens in most relationships then what does that say about theirs?
they’re so boyfriends it’s surreal
If you ever doubt of Byler being endgame remember that:
- crazy together scene was written even before season 1 was released
- El was supposed to d1e in that season
- byler has been paralleled multiple times with canon healthy couples, while milev3n has been paralelled to unhappy couples.
- asking Will to be his friend was the best thing Mike has ever done. he chose it. it was not just dumb luck.
- Will's first word to Mike was "yes", while El's first word to Mike was "no".
- They've been music and color coded throughout the whole series.
this is still relevant since Blue and Yellow code had been brought up again after s4v2 was released.
all the character's official playlists were deleted from spotify except for Mike and Will's ones respectively.
- Hawkins is not the same for Mike without Will.
- Mike and Will's friendship had always received a diferent treatment in the series, like something apart, something else.
- Mike's room/basement walls are full of Will's art.
- Mike always prioritized Will before anyone. He always apologized to Will first, he always made sure Will was okay first.
- s5 is going to include many season 2 ideas and follow season 1 dynamic. we all know what that means.
- Byler had even been developed in a deeper way in official COMICS AND VIDEOGAMES.
- Mike called Will a lot of times while he was in California, even when nobody called back.
- Mike cannot have a strong relationship with Will and El at the same time, curiously, it's always one or the other. The difference is that, one of them is not as healthy as it should be, even when they're -in a good moment-
- I've mentioned a lot of Mike's stuff about his feelings for Will when the one who's supposed to be canonically in love is Will lmao. There's like literally a ton of proof that Mike is in love with Will and... barely any of Will being in love with Mike.
- no words just this scene
- Mike wouldn't have said ILY to El if Will didn't impulse him to.
- Mike actually loves Will's feelings, his needing and his fear of losing him. Mike was impulsed by those feelings, his whole monologue/confession was just a response to them.
- Official sources in social media like Netflix posted/commented many byler hints after season 4 was released. (and they also post some stuff shitting on milev3n, it's just interesting..🤨)
- Byler followed so many romantic tropes since season 3: interrumptions, miscommunication, uncertainty, denial, love triangles, etc. They wouldn't have done this much for a friendship.
plus: they wouldn't have spent so much money in those scenes and scenery for nothing.
- season 3 finale. 4 pics one word: realization.
- mike & el are NOT in good terms at the end of s4. or at least, not romantically, while Mike & Will finally got as close as how they were before.
- finn & noah had to do a CHEMISTRY TEST for stranger things, something that they didn't had to do with Caleb or Gaten.
good night besties, smile, remember everyday is a new day where we're closer to finally see Byler becoming canon. :)