mike presents first and it barely changes anything because everyone already expected him to be an alpha: territorial, possessive, protective, a leader. now he carries this unyielding confidence underneath him, quiet and strong, and somehow he's even more possessive than before — if that was even possible. other than that, he's the same.
eleven presents as an omega. no one is surprised.
then will presents last, and he presents as a male omega — one of those rare ones you might never meet in your entire life. male omegas are fertile but they're boys, and they face the same discrimination as queer alphas and betas, just worse. society deems them good for only one thing.
and mike feels so attuned to will in a way he can’t explain. he feels will's emotions, his needs, his hurt, his happiness — even from across town. he doesn't understand it because it wasn't like this with eleven. he tells himself it's because he's more protective of will, knowing what kind of fate could await him. he's been hearing the way people talk at school, before will even comes back after presenting.
will's first heat arrives and mike isn't allowed to see him, and with each day that passes he feels like he's genuinely losing his mind. he can't concentrate on anything else, doesn't want to be around anyone — all he can think about is will will will.
turns out this isn't normal even for prime alphas. turns out mike, being mike — especially around will, who he's always been weirdly possessive and protective over — accidentally bonded with him.
everyone is shocked but the bond is not permanent. in two or three months it will fade on its own unless mike claims him deliberately. so the parents consult doctors and decide the best course is to let them be close and wait for the connection to pass.
will's first heat is agony and the worst anyone has ever seen. he's in constant pain, feels abandoned and unwanted, and nothing helps. mike stops sleeping and loses appetite.
the moment will's heat ends, mike is finally allowed to see him. and for the first time in a week, they can both breathe.
el is confused and hurt, but joyce and hopper tell her it'll pass. it's just hormones, they say. it doesn't mean anything for her relationship with mike. he just needs to be close to will right now, and will needs to be close to him. she's told to take a step back.
she hates it. and when she tries to get close to mike anyway, will hisses at her — then immediately looks like he's about to cry from guilt. mike soothes him, scents him, holds him close and tells him it's not his fault. then he asks el to give them space.
will knows it's not real. knows mike is just following his biology. but he can't help himself — he takes everything mike gives him while he can.
they become even more attached than before: mike holds will's hand in the hallways, walks him to every class, gives him his clothes, scents him, glares at anyone who comes too close. but other alphas can smell that the bond isn't permanent, and it drives mike insane.
he starts wondering: this is the first time everything feels right in his life. is it really just hormones? and if hormones feel this good, then what's wrong with that? he's never been happier or more confident. will is so soft and pliant in his arms, so docile, lets mike dote on him like no one ever has. will likes it when mike gets possessive and protective, when mike makes decisions for both of them so will doesn't have to worry about anything. el never let him do that — she was always too independent, too opinionated.
deep down, mike knows nothing will be the same after this. he dreads the bond fading because he knows he'll have to make a decision. he dreads the way el looks at him, longingly. he dreads catching other alphas looking at will.
and deep down, he already knows what decision he's going to make.