WHEELCLAIR IS SUCH A BASED SHIP. like idk they would be adorable. not to mention they’d be a little like lumax since max and mike are so similar. they are loverboy x haterboy and i love that for them.
read on ao3 or right here in tumblr post/based off this fanart
“Shitshitshit!” Mike curses in between panting breaths as he pedals his bike to go faster.
The roads of Hawkins aren't nearly as busy with cars, most people having already promptly left for work in the morning rush. Mike's nerves rattle more than a rattlesnake’s tail when he sees the mail truck parked at the end of the block. If the mailman is running at this time, then yeah, Mike is running extra super duper late for school. He can’t afford another tardy or it’s a guaranteed week long detention, and an earful from his perpetually disappointed parents. Man, he misses the days when Nancy drove him everywhere before she went off to college.
“Fuckfuckfuck!” He continues to lament, hopping off his bike in a blur, barely locking it in place once he reaches the bike rack.
His eyes notice that Dustin and Lucas's bikes are here, secured side by side. Maybe, they'll have notes he can borrow for the lessons missed. Mike has a few classes with both of them. In the afternoon every period with Dustin sans Spanish, while Lucas shares at least three morning classes with him. Finding an entrance that isn’t shut tight, meant to force any late students directly to the main doors right in front of the office, has the wheels in Mike’s mind turning. He knows by the dumpsters, next to the cafeteria entrance, is where the smoker kids camp out with either a rock or stick to prop the door open for easy re-entry, lunch ladies preoccupied fixing the food to catch quiet trespassers. Mike beelines for it, giving a half-hearted wave of appreciation at glassy red eyed and loopy smiling burnouts, walking through a hazy cloud smelling of nicotine and the Devil's lettuce to the empty cafeteria.
Sneakily, Mike strides across the massive open spaced room to the vacant halls. Peeking over his shoulder every now and then for hall monitors or truancy officers, Mike tiptoes to English on the recently janitor mopped and squeaky floor. He'll need a distraction to get inside. Through the small rectangular door window, Mike spots Lucas sitting at his desk, yawning as he flips another page of The Catcher in the Rye. The teacher, Mr. Jones, reads aloud to the class in a bland tone, adjusting his glasses every third paragraph.
Staring intently through the window, hoping beyond hope Lucas looks up, Mike wonders if he can tap into any latent psychic powers and become like his ex-girlfriend El for a bit. Turns out, as much as Mike has heart, he's not meant to be anything else but plain old normal. Clicking his tongue, Mike silently complains about Lucas not sensing his piercing gaze, and drops to his knees. Unzipping his backpack, Mike rips paper from a notebook, and scribbles in his neatest handwriting. The kind that won't let the teacher know it's from him. Years of forging his parents’ signatures had Mike mastering the art of copying the school secretary’s cursive. Only a few students, Mike being one of them, knows the secretary is having an affair with the married Mr. Jones.
Meet me in the faculty lounge for a professional meeting.
Mike makes sure to add flowery swoops and hearts the i's. He slips the note under the door and knocks, swiftly bolting around the hallway corner, dunking behind a garbage can when he hears Mr. Jones peek his head out through the threshold, clutching the note hard to his chest. In no time, Mr. Jones, colored scarlet, hurriedly orders the class to self study the material as he attends to urgent business. Mike listens for the older man's hustled steps to get farther away, and he eases in the classroom to claim his seat next to Lucas.
“Look who showed up.” Mike watches Lucas smirk at him and he reciprocates.
“Did he take attendance?”
“Yup. Roster’s up there.”
“Thanks.” Mike goes to add his name as ‘present’. He returns by Lucas's side, bouncing his leg. “Can I look at your notes?”
“You don't have to ask.” Lucas hands them over.
Mike beams even brighter. “But I like when you say ‘yes’ to me.”
Lucas rolls his eyes, but his cheeks warm. Sometimes, he wonders if Mike knows that when not acting as a try hard, the Wheeler son is actually a natural flirt just being himself. He wonders if Mike weren't so hellbent on maintaining his loser status, he'd have had a chance at popularity just as much as Nancy did scoring Steve Harrington briefly for a boyfriend.
“Lemme guess. Slept through the alarm again?” Lucas could never. He's such an early bird. Basketball practice demanded punctuality.
Mike nods, furiously jotting down in his notebook before the bell rang for next period. Mr. Jones hadn’t not returned yet, meaning he didn’t know the secretary was still in the office doing her job.
“Geez, you owe me.” Lucas slumps in his chair, clearly looking for a favor.
Picking up on the change of tone, Mike straightens and glances at him curiously. “What do you want for your services?”
“Guitar lessons.” Lucas flatly says.
“Really?” Mike curls a brow, frowning, and Lucas grunts a smug “Mmhmm.”
The pale skin of Mike flushes, not keen on playing the guitar with an audience, especially if the audience is Lucas. It’s been months of Mike self-teaching, taking up inspiration after Eddie Munson introduced him to Hellfire’s garage band Corroded Coffin. Still, Mike considers himself an amateur at best, not fit for having a student of his own, but Lucas claims to have heard Mike strumming strings through his bedroom window, and to Lucas the melodies sounded good enough.
“Are you sure? I mean, not even Will has heard me play.” Mike likes to use Will as a tolerance measurement. His unfiltered honesty keeps Mike's audacity in check. Grounds him when he goes over the edge.
Lucas tries not to sound jealous, squinting his eyes. “How come you let Will get special privileges? Aren't I your best friend, too? Why can’t I get first dibs for once?”
“C’mon, are you for real?” Mike sighs, then sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “It’s easier showing Will. When it comes to you, I’m trying to impress. Y’know, be cool.” Ugh, admitting that is so embarrassing, true as it is.
“Oh. Well, that’s different.” Lucas widens his eyes and he shoots a grateful grin. “Aw, didn’t know I’m that important of an opinion. S’nice seeing you get shy around me. Even though we’ve known each other for, like, years.”
“I'm not shy! I'm just self-conscious.” Mike shoves Lucas’s notes back at him and growls. “Big difference.”
Lucas holds his hands up in surrender, though his face is all teasing. “Okay. Whatever you say. And by the way, I'm coming over tonight for those lessons.”
“That soon?” Mike chokes, thinking about how messy his room is. Damn, he’d have to speed clean.
“Yes. That soon. And see, I did it for you.” Lucas wags his brows, arms crossed and leaning toward Mike. “Since you said you like when I say ‘yes’.”
“Ugh. No fair.”
“Hey, I’m a basketball state champion. I play to win.”
+++++
“So, like this?” Lucas awkwardly holds the guitar, then strikes a silly pose in the center of the room, like he's a member of an infamous rock band headlining a concert or being interviewed for a magazine photo-op.
The corners of Mike's lips curve upwards, his palm shielding half his face, mouth hidden to muffle his laugh.
“No. Not, like that. Here, lemme show you.” Mike regains his composure and leads Lucas to his bed, both of them getting comfortable on the dipped mattress edge.
They aren't worried about any interruptions. The Wheelers aren't home, leaving Mike free to have whatever company he so freely chooses, and do whatever he freely chooses. Mike's bedroom door is open for all the world to see what goes on between them, as they sit rather close, shoulder to shoulder, thighs touching and trading heat.
“Move your hand.” Mike whispers patiently, puppeting Lucas into position gently.
He places Lucas's left hand on the neck of the guitar. His lithe and calloused fingers cover similarly rough digits lightly tracing strings. The weight of the guitar rests on Lucas's lap, much like how Mike's right hand finds its way to the meat of his friend's thigh for unnecessary support.
“This feels weird.” Lucas comments on the odd sensation of his arms cradling the instrument. Not bothered by Mike’s closeness. They’ve been getting closer for a while now.
With no girlfriends, and with everyone getting into new things like Will investing in his art and Dustin signing up for the science fair, it’s been Mike and Lucas up to their own devices. Helps that they live on the same street, making hangout time more feasible than the rest of the Party gatherings. One of the new things Mike and Lucas are doing is exchanging more physical touch, both a tad lonely and spoiled from the hugs El and Max once gave them.
“Gotta get used to it.” Mike whispers and aids Lucas in plucking some strings to a simple tune.
Lucas's brow furrows in concentration, pink tongue poking out. “Damn, this is harder than I thought.”
Mike’s hand squeezes Lucas’s thigh in encouragement and chuckles. “Now you know how I feel when you taught me to shoot hoops. You know the deal.”
“Yes, yes. How could I forget?” Lucas shakes his head, fondness growing in his eyes.
The deal is that if Mike has to learn how to play basketball, Lucas must learn to play guitar. Just so the two could understand each other better. Both are stubborn, the ones most likely to get into arguments, and when they entered high school their friendship got rocky. They’re past that however, rekindling the reasons why they chose to be around each other.
“Like that! You’re getting it!” Mike beams, looking through his long eyelashes, admiring Lucas’s progress.
“Maybe you have a future in education. I can’t believe I’m playing this and our ears aren’t bleeding yet.” Lucas takes a break from straining muscles he’s never used before, sitting the guitar aside.
He leans back, arms outstretched and perched on the mattress to maneuver in a lounging position. Mike gives him a onceover. Taking in Lucas’s sense of style. Other than Will, Lucas took time and care into his appearance. His khaki pants pair up well with his tan like beach sand collared shirt. Similar to Mike dabbling in wearing rings to adorn his fingers every blue moon, Lucas’s favorite piece of jewelry these days has been a silver stud earring. In certain lights, Mike’s eyes are entranced at the way the earring sparkles, like stars in the night sky.
“You’re staring.” Lucas says without looking, his own eyes on the ceiling.
“No, I’m not.” Mike lies, still not having his sights leave Lucas’s person.
Blinking slowly, Lucas glances Mike’s way, eyes lidded. “You’re staring.” He repeats.
Strangely, Mike can’t tear his eyes away. He knows better. Knows it’s considered rude, but Lucas isn’t looking at him with annoyance. No, by now, they’re having a staring contest. Mike’s pupils enlarged and focused. Lucas’s searching Mike as if debating on his next move. Suddenly, Mike is tugging on the collar of his black shirt, feeling stuffy. He fiddles with the lining of his pale blue jeans pocket. His other hand is still on Lucas’s thigh.
“Yeah.” Mike finally rasps, mouth dry and breaking eye contact to squeeze his eyes shut. “I’m staring.”
“Glad to see you admitting it.” Lucas leans forward, smirking. He eyes where Mike’s hand is at and places his own atop.
“Um… Sorry!” Mike attempts to snatch his hand away, but Lucas grasps his hand, keeping it there.
“You can keep staring, y’know. I don’t mind. All that working out has made it fun to get checked out.” Lucas smiles wider at Mike’s audible gulping. “And I don’t mind if you can’t help, but touch this masterpiece of a body of mine, too.”
“Humble as ever.” Mike snorts, relaxing his shoulders.
The sound of the Wheeler’s family car pulling up into the driveway has Mike and Lucas separate. Echoing throughout the house is the door unlocking, Karen spotting the extra bike by her son’s, and asks, “Does Lucas want to stay for dinner?”
Mike looks to Lucas, shrugging. They walk out of the room to head downstairs, Lucas politely greeting with the manners his mother taught him.
“I’d love to ma’am.”
+++++
The guitar lessons continue for weeks. Lucas is a quick learner. Each meeting in Mike’s bedroom is more fun, even longer, time nonexistent. It gets to a point where Lucas is a regular at dinner. Sometimes, Mike goes to Lucas’s place instead, on the days they play against each other in a game of driveway basketball.
One weekend, Mike holds back tears after Lucas pierced his ears. He wears the other silver stud earring that matches Lucas’s. As payment, Lucas gets to sport one of Mike’s rings.
“Will, have you ever been in love?” Mike stays perfectly still, allowing his friend to draw him for an art project.
Will stops sketching, looking up at Mike expectantly. “Why’re you asking? You gotta crush?”
Mike blushes. “Maybe.”
He can’t decipher why Will looks saddened by the news. Shouldn’t best friends be excited over this type of stuff?
“I’m in love.” Will confesses, going back to drawing like he didn’t drop a bomb.
“Wait? Love? With who?!” Mike ruins the pose, rushing to Will. He’s never heard Will ever say he likes someone, let alone love.
“It’s… It’s not someone I can be with.” Will looks pained and Mike knows the feeling all too well.
“Me, too.” Mike bites his bottom lip and twiddles his fingers. “Don’t freak out or be mad, okay.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because the person I’m in love with is someone I’m not supposed to be with, too.”
Will perks up at that information. “Really?! L-Like it’s forbidden or something?”
“Definitely in Hawkins, yeah.” Mike cards a hand through his long curly hair.
Will swallows the lump in his throat. “Is it… Is it a…”
“A what?” Mike doesn’t know if he wants Will to finish that sentence.
“A boy?” Will probes, eyes intense.
Mike glumly nods, flinching at Will’s hitched breath. He gazes at Will. “You’re not weirded out are you?”
“No! Of course not!” Will grabs Mike’s shoulders in a comforting gesture. “I… The person I’m in love with is a boy, also.”
“Oh! Seriously!” Mike laughs, relieved and pulling Will into an embrace. “I guess we really are the same. Best friends in everything, huh.”
“Yup!” Will clings, watery eyes threatening tears of happiness. He’d never guess that Mike could be… Is gay like him. He has a chance, a shot to be with the boy of his dreams.
They hug for a while before parting. Mike and Will are all giggles. Then, it occurs to Will that Mike says he’s in love with someone. Who could that someone be?
Smile dropped, Will tilts his head in worry. “Who are you in love with exactly, Mike?”
“Alright, don’t get shocked by this one, m’kay. I’ve been hanging out with him way more than usual and I think, I feel like he might want me as much as I want him.” Mike gets giddy just talking about it and the pit in Will’s stomach grows. “I’m in love with Lucas!”
“... Lucas?”
“Uh-huh!”
“Our Lucas?”
“That’s the one.” Mike looks completely enamored. He then locks in on Will’s unreadable face. “So, what about you? Who’s the lucky guy?”
A moment passes. Will forces a tight lipped grin, the tears in his eyes taking on a new meaning.
