Archive of Our Own

Midterms were kicking Mike’s ass to hell and back. He had never had to write so many essays in his whole life. It was 10 PM on a Friday, and instead of doing something fun, he was dragging himself back from the library, five hours into wrestling with Homer’s epics and losing. 

The walk back was mostly quiet, punctuated by the shrill laughter of drunk girls off in the distance and his own heavy breathing. The streetlights cast a dim glow amidst the fog, like someone had rubbed at the world with their thumb. Cold pierced through his jacket, and every breath burned his lungs. Winter, his least favorite season, was well on its way. 

He was thinking about how he could really go for a hot chocolate as he entered his residence hall, which was equally dim and somehow colder. It harbored the kind of damp chill that lived in buildings so old the walls creaked when you breathed on them. All he wanted was a hot shower and a sleep that lasted until noon.

The floor was quiet, which meant that everyone was either busy getting blackout drunk on Greek Row, or had settled into bed for the night. If it wasn’t for his stupid English project, he would have been asleep hours ago. He stopped at his door, room 1221 at the end of the hall, and dug around in his pocket for his key. 

Then, somewhere inside the room—a dull thud. Then again, and again.

Is Will rearranging the furniture? Mike rolled his eyes and reached for the door handle. 

And then it landed; his roommate wasn’t busy redecorating, he was doing something else entirely.

Heat rushed up Mike’s neck, sharp and humiliating, and his stomach dropped like he’d missed a step on the stairs. Embarrassment, sure, but under it, something much worse burned in his chest. 

Will could do as he pleased, even if it was with … whatever random guys he kept bringing back to the dorms.

Mike always knew when they had been over. There were condom wrappers left in the trash can, tissues by the bed, and one time he’d even stumbled upon a bottle of lube that had been left out.

And whatever. It wasn’t Mike’s place to judge, even if he was a geeky, miserable virgin who got zero action. Unfortunately, Will was almost as geeky and miserable, and he had a roster so well-stocked Mike couldn’t help but wonder where they were all coming from. He should have been impressed. Happy for him. Mildly annoyed that his roommate was Indiana’s own personal Casanova, at worst. 

So why … why did he feel like he was about to throw up? Why was his heart beating faster than that awful rhythm of the bedframe against the wall? Why was he still standing there, with his hand on the doorknob, listening?

And then Will moaned, a sound that Mike could only describe as “life-changing.”

His jaw went slack, and jesus, he had to get out of there. He ducked into the bathroom, happy to find it empty, his breath coming too fast, skin too hot. 

Safely hidden inside one of the showers, he sank to the cold tile, head thunking against the wall as his body settled, like it might knock some sense into him.

What was going on?

✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

Mike thought he had been hiding in the shower for hours by the time his phone pinged. He checked the time—it had been twenty-three minutes. 

The notification was from Will, a text message.

WILL: hey r u on your way home soon?

Mike groaned, dropping his head into his knees. What was he supposed to say? Nah, I’m actually hiding in the showers trying not to vomit? Did you have fun getting railed? Or maybe I think I’m going to kill myself?

He opted for something a little more neutral.

ME: yup, walking back from the library now.

Will liked the message, and it wasn’t long before he heard the distant creak of their heavy door opening and closing again. He gave it another five minutes just to be safe before he emerged from his hiding spot and retreated back to his room so shamefully that you would have thought he had been the one playing porn star. 

The second he opened the door, he got hit with a blast of cold air and goosebumps shot up his arms. The window was open, because Will always seemed to be immune to the cold.

He was laying on his stomach in bed, sporting a pair of boxers along with a t-shirt Mike had never seen before, scrolling on his phone, his feet kicking lazily in the air behind him.

“Get a lot of studying done?” Will asked as Mike dropped his bag on his half of the room with a heavy thud.

“I need to be taken out back and shot,” he concluded, immediately going to shut the window. “Homer is kicking my ass so hard.” Then, curiously, because he just couldn’t help himself, “What have you been up to?”

“History essay,” Will shrugged. “Tiktok.”

Getting fucked, Mike added in his head. “Oh really? Who’s shirt is that?” 

Will blushed crimson. “I stole it from my brother.”

Liar.

Mike didn’t press the issue, not willing to challenge him further. He pulled his week-old pajamas out of his dirty clothes basket, but paused right as he went to strip. He and Will changed in front of each other all the time. There wasn’t much privacy in a dorm room, after all. But all of a sudden, he felt uncomfortable. Shy. Watched. Hoping Will wouldn’t notice, he made his way back to the bathroom to swap out of his outside clothes. 

Mike was famously bad with his emotions. Understanding them, talking about them, hell, even having them. They tended to all just mush together in his brain to create a feeling soup, and whenever this happened, he kind of just picked an emotion at random to focus on. Mike was feeling—he rattled the emotions around in an imaginary hat—angry. Okay. Why?

He got stuck at that part. 

Mike couldn’t comprehend how he, as such an adept and passionate writer, could spew out pages and pages of heart and feeling, but when it came to himself, he chalked every feeling he had up to a shrug and an I dunno. 

He pondered this thought as he got ready for bed, as he tucked himself under his six different blankets, and as he tried and subsequently failed to drift off to sleep. 

He wasn’t mad that Will was having sex in their room. He wasn’t mad that Will had a frat boy level Snapchat roster and he had three friends. Okay, well, he was mad about that, but this was different. 

That left him with one possible option.

He was eating lunch with Eddie the next day when he voiced it.

“So, I think I’m homophobic.”

Eddie choked on his Gogo Squeez. “Michael, I’m gay.”

“Right, I know!” Mike gestured at him helplessly. “Duh! But Will is pissing me off, and it’s the only explanation!”

 Eddie heaved an exhausted high, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d been Mike’s student leader during freshman orientation, and they had bonded over mutually being a little off their rocker. Since then, they’d found themselves eating lunch together in the cafeteria in the humanities building, and Eddie had found himself subject to a plethora of Mike’s odd questions and unsettling behavior.

“Alright, go on, explain to me why you hate gay people, let’s hear it,” Eddie said, giving Mike the floor. The girl who walked past their table at that exact unfortunate moment gave them both a nasty look.

“Keep your voice down,” Mike hissed. “Okay, here’s my issue.”

He explained his dilemma as best he could, and Eddie seemed to look more and more entertained by every word that left his mouth. When he had said his piece, he sat back and crossed his arms, his foot rapidly tapping against the leg of the chair. 

“So, what do you think?”

“I think you’re just upset about being a loser virgin.”

“I am not a loser virgin.”

“You have a Five Nights at Freddy’s keychain on your backpack. You cut your hair to look like you’re in Van Halen. You are a loser virgin.”

“Okay, okay, fine! But that isn’t why I’m upset,” Mike stared at his nutritious lunch of five pop tarts, a white monster, and a blue razz Geek Bar like the answer was hidden somewhere in the carbs or nicotine.  

Eddie tipped his chair back, balancing on two legs, and thought. “Well, Will’s almost 20, he’s gonna have sex. Have you been taken in by purity culture? That’s not very woke of you.”

“That’s not it. You should see my search history and my Twitter feed.”

“No, gross. I don’t want to watch straight people have sex,” Eddie stuck out his tongue.

Mike couldn’t fight the zing of energy that shot through his heart, or the blush that spread to his ears. “Well.” He coughed. “It’s not just straight people.”

Eddie’s face lit up like he’d just been told there was a 50% off sale at the dispensary. “Welcome, fellow queer,” he stuck his hand out, and Mike reluctantly shook it. “I am the secretary, treasurer, and president of the gays, but you can be my scribe if you want.”

“I’m not—I’m not queer. I don’t want to be your scribe.”

“Michael, you watch men fuck and you enjoy it. You are queer. You are not homophobic, you want to bang your roommate.” 

Now Mike was really blushing. “Shut up,” he slammed his head down onto the lunch table, a little harder than he’d meant to. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Not at all, Wheeler. This is totally the answer. You’re jealous.”

“Of Will?” Mike mumbled into the tabletop.

“No, of the guys who get to see him naked all the time!” Eddie groaned like he was struggling to communicate with a preverbal toddler. “Holy shit, you’re dense. You are the only person on the planet who would confuse attraction with bigotry.”

“Okay, okay, I get the message,” Mike took a hit of his vape for comfort, trying to blow out the smoke as inconspicuously as possible. “I desperately need you to shut up.”

“Because I missed the mark, or because something is starting to resonate in that thick skull of yours?”

“You are so wrong. So very wrong. I’d say that I appreciate your help, except I truly do not,” Mike collected the rest of his pop tarts and tucked them away in his backpack. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get to Intro to Languistics.”

Eddie mimed strangling himself, which was the first thing he’d said or done that day that Mike agreed with. It was the only time all semester he’d been happy about having to take that awful class.

✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

He came to terms with his sexuality relatively quickly for someone who was so prone to being dramatic about things. By the time he got back to his room that night, he had already decided that yeah, okay, he probably wasn’t straight. He thought back to a male friend he’d had in middle school that he’d been weirdly attached to. The boy who sat next to him in his high school English class, who wrote so beautifully that he convinced Mike himself to try writing too. And the fact that he felt connected to David Bowie on a spiritual level.

I can like boys, he thought to himself, changing into his pajamas in the bathroom again. But I cannot like Will. I do not like Will.

Unfortunately, Mike’s body wasn’t quite as rational as his brain. Every time he saw condom wrappers in the trash can, he could barely bring himself to look at his roommate for hours. Every time Will got changed, Mike found an excuse to leave the room so he wouldn’t catch himself staring. And every time he showered, he fantasized about Will being in the shower next to him, separated by just a thin wall, his bare skin wet and shiny.

But it wasn’t really just sex that occupied his mind, despite how feral he felt. Will was kind of … awesome. Despite spending the past few weeks avoiding him, Mike realized he had learned more about Will more than ever before. He’d never noticed that Will wore a special cologne on days that he had exciting events or presentations to give. He’d never noticed that Will couldn’t focus on his homework unless he was listening to music—and that it was always The Cure, and he never used headphones. He’d never noticed that the lanyard Will kept his keys on had a little dog keychain. He’d never noticed that Will only used peach chapstick. He’d never noticed that Will filled up an entire sketchbook page with art and doodles every single day. 

He’d never noticed Will.

And now he was everywhere. His scent lingered on everything in their room, rings of coffee left over from his mugs stained the furniture, his pencil shavings that missed the trash can were crushed into the carpet—even the frigid temperature of their shared room was so uniquely Will that it drove him crazy.

Eddie had been right; Mike had a crush on his roommate. It would have been a horrible, awful realization if he wasn’t so goddamn horny. 

But he could manage it. He was an adult for god’s sake—no longer that sweet, innocent teenager who’d have to lock himself in the bathroom after brushing hands with someone who had a pretty smile.

He could behave himself. 

Until the weekend he couldn’t.

✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

Mike was returning from yet another epically long stint in the library, reading about things that made him feel exceptionally stupid and like he should drop out. He wasn’t a quitter, but if he wasn’t just a little scared to go home early and potentially walk in on Will with a guy again, he would have left hours ago.

He paused outside their door, listening. No bedframe hitting the wall. No moaning. Just the faint hum of The Cure, which meant Will was probably doing homework. Mike heaved a sigh of relief and turned the key in the lock. 

Will had been standing by the open window, watching something outside, but when he heard the door creak open he whirled around and blinked at Mike like a deer in the headlights.

“Can you shut that? It’s like twelve degrees—” Mike started, but Will cut him off, coughing, exhaling hazy wisps of smoke that hung in the air. 

“Uhh …” Will looked at him sheepishly. “Sorry.” He tried to wave away the smoke, which showed off the cart pinched between two of his fingers. “Are you mad?”

Eyes caught on the easy grin spread across his face, mind racing, he forced himself to formulate a normal response. “No, why would I be mad?”

Will shrugged. “Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it. You don’t really do this stuff.”

“I vape,” Mike informed him, desperate to look like anything other than the inexperienced loser that he was. 

“That is a different thing entirely.” Will took another hit off the cart, blowing the smoke properly out the window this time. When he’d finished, he reached to close it, but Mike stopped him.

“Wait!” 

Will paused, hand on the windowsill, giggling at the nervous look on Mike’s face. “Yes, Mike?”

“Can I try?” Awesome idea, Michael. Get high for the first time with your super experienced roommate who you desperately want to fuck.

Will’s eyes lit up. “Okay, sure!” he held out the cart, and Mike joined him at the window, taking it hesitantly. “Deep breath in, hold one-two, breathe out,” Will instructed. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Mike told him, nervous. 

He’d had a nicotine problem for a while now, but it had never really progressed into anything else. High school had been boring, with relatively boring friends, and super boring parents. He had to hide his vapes from them like he was keeping pipe bombs, so he couldn’t imagine how they’d react if they caught him with any actual drugs. So, the first time he ever smoked was going to be in his college dorm room, standing at the window with his hot roommate.

Mike took the cart from Will and breathed it in. It didn’t have that scratchy feeling in his throat that a vape did, instead it went down smooth and easy.

He went to say something along the lines of “hey, that wasn’t so bad” before an overwhelming sensation rocked him and he doubled over, hacking and coughing like his lungs were trying to exit through his throat.

“Holy fuck,” he wheezed, gripping Will’s arm to stabilize himself as the force of his coughing brought tears to his eyes.

“You’re okay,” Will said, his voice soft. “Breathe, Mike, breathe.” He handed Mike his water bottle and Mike took it eagerly, trying to clear his throat. 

He felt the hit instantly, a little buzz in his brain that grew and grew like a firework exploding in slow motion. Woah.

“How do you feel?” Will asked, cautiously. Mike had no idea what emotion his face was displaying.

He gave Will a thumbs up, blinking as everything came in and out of focus. “I’m gonna sit down.”

“Okay,” Will helped him onto his bed, trying not to laugh. “Can I join you?”

He patted the space next to him. “Sure.”

Will sat in the indicated spot, moving aside Mike’s stuffed animals. They were nerdy and childish, but he didn’t really care. In some ways, he felt like he hadn’t really grown up. Like he was suspended in time, playing a game that everyone else knew the rules to except him.

Mike stared off into space, feeling dizzy and trying to adjust to the way things seemed to shift in and out of reality. Maybe he was dreaming, asleep without realizing it, and everything was fake.

But there was one thing that was definitely real, and it was the way that Will’s thigh was pressing against his.

He felt super unaware of everything else around him and very, very aware of that. It grounded him, reeling him in. He felt light and nervous at the same time, like he wasn’t sure if he was going to float off the couch or melt into it. Happiness kept sneaking up on him in little jolts in his chest, like he should laugh, or say something, anything, but he didn’t. 

They sat together in silence for a little bit, listening to the melancholic, melodic notes of The Cure. 

Finally, Mike spoke. “Is this your favorite band?”

“Yes!” Will nodded, shifting his position so they were face to face. “But I like The Clash, too. My brother has this awesome record collection at home, and we used to smoke together and listen to as many albums as we could in one night. My sister was there too, her name’s Jane—Janie, I call her—but she’s a baby about the smoke so she’ll only have those edibles that taste like candy.”

“Home is … Lenora, California, right?” Mike asked, wracking his fuzzy brain to remember what city Will was from.

“Yep. It’s way different there than it is here. So much desert. It’s kinda boring. Indiana is prettier, even though it’s also kinda boring.” 

Will sounded like he was rambling, like every thought came out of his mouth without his brain deciding what he wanted to say first. Mike thought it was so cute; when he was sober, Will was so quiet and locked-up that Mike found him almost impossible to read sometimes.

A sudden thought popped into his head. “Why were you alone tonight?”

Will blinked at him. “Sorry, huh?”

“It’s a Friday night. You always have a guy over.”

A mortified look crossed Will’s face. “You knew about that?”

“Well, yeah, it was super obvious.” Mike hadn’t realized that he was trying to hide it. A thought lingered on his tongue, and he let the silence suspend for a moment before he voiced it. “Plus, you moan really loud.”

Will pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I am going to kill myself.”

Mike shouldn’t have told him that. That was weird. Why did he say that, oh my god.

“So?” he looked around the room, like maybe Will was hiding someone somewhere. “Why aren’t you busy getting freak style nasty?” 

Will groaned, thudding his head back against the wall. “Ignoring the fact that I hate the way you phrased that, I, um … haven’t done that in a couple weeks, actually.”

Despite all the other things he’d picked up on about Will, he actually had not noticed that. He had been so busy staying out of his way that he managed to miss the most important detail of all. “Why?”

“Well, there’s kind of … somebody that I like.”

Mike’s stomach dropped. “Okay. Who?” He tried to sound supportive, but it came out demanding.

“Doesn’t matter,” Will pointedly looked away from him, trying to hide the embarrassment in his eyes. “I think he’s been avoiding me.”

“You should kill him,” Mike suggested. 

Caught off guard, Will stifled a laugh. “Sometimes I want to! He’s been acting weird for weeks now. Plus, he always smells like he just took ten hits off a blue razz vape and it really pisses me off.”

Mike was not having fun anymore. He didn’t want to get high so Will could talk about his crush, who suspiciously had the same favorite flavor vape as him. He wanted to get high so that Will would see that he is not actually a lame-ass loser. Maybe he would even realize that he wanted to kiss Mike. But no, he wanted to kiss some other asshole who wasn’t even paying any attention to him.

You also have not been paying attention to him, Mike’s brain pointed out, unhelpfully. Shut up, brain. That is different, he is my ROOMMATE.

“Also,” Will added, interrupting his spiraling, “I don’t actually even know if he likes boys.”

“Oh.” Mike tugged at a loose string on his blanket. “Uh, well, I like boys.” He clicked his tongue and shrugged, like an idiot. “Just throwin’ that out there.”

Every time he said something, it was fucking stupid. Mike decided that he was never allowed to get high again.

“Do you really?” Will asked, looking way too excited about the fact. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “I kinda just realized though. There’s this guy …” Alarms were blaring inside his head. Because why would Will care that Mike liked boys, unless … no. 

No way.

“Will?” Mike asked tentatively, not sure what he wanted to say next, just knowing that he had to say it.

“I need the cart,” Will fumbled around in the blankets for it, which Mike spotted first and handed to him. Will’s fingers lingered on his skin as he took it from him.

Something about Will’s energy had changed suddenly. Like he was excited, but also terribly nervous. Like he’d set fireworks off in a room that was way too small. 

That’s how Mike felt, at least—like hope with a stomachache. His heart pounded in his chest for no damn reason, and that loopy feeling in his head was front and center.

“Want another hit?” Will asked him as he brought the cart to his lips.

Mike nodded, and Will nodded back in understanding. “Close your eyes, okay?”

He obliged, because he’d do anything Will asked him to, especially now. He heard Will inhale, and he counted the seconds that Will was going to hold his breath before he blew the smoke out. One second, Two seconds—

Will kissed him. 

His lips were warm, and Mike could feel the chapstick on them. Peach chapstick. In shock, his brain exploding, Mike parted his lips and Will exhaled the smoke into his mouth.

Holy. FUCK. 

Mike instantly felt the buzz from the second hit, and his brain went so stupid that he’d fail a test with the answer sheet right in front of him.

He blinked his eyes open, and Will was sitting in front of him, staring, the cart still held halfway up to his mouth. He looked small, and shy, with a kind of nervous hesitation Mike had never seen from him. He smiled sheepishly while Mike struggled to formulate a single thought, his mouth hanging open. 

But Mike couldn’t think. He certainly couldn’t think rationally, which was probably why he saw no problems with kissing his roommate and a million problems with not kissing him again immediately.

“Fuck it,” Mike said, mostly to himself, lunging towards Will.

Will met him halfway, their mouths crashing together, hot and desperate and tasting like weed. He felt wild and out of control, hands touching every part of Will’s body that he could reach. Will wasn’t any shier with him, one hand in Mike’s hair and the other slid up the back of his shirt. He shivered as Will’s cold fingertips moved over his skin, over the bones in his spine and the planes of his shoulder blades. Will touched Mike like he had been wondering what it would be like to feel him for ages, and he wanted to savor every moment of it. Mike touched Will like he was on fire and Will was the only thing that could quell the flame.

Mike felt so much. Like every nerve in his body was being shocked with electricity, like there was a car crash in his heart, like he was hosting a gymnastics meet in his stomach, like someone was banging pots and pans inside his head. 

There was exactly one thought in his brain, and it was Will, Will, Will, oh my god, Will—

A groan escaped his throat while Will kissed him, and Will mimicked the sound, every bit as desperate. He shoved Mike back into the bed and straddled him, chasing his lips the second they left. Will kissed him breathless, and when Mike pulled back to gasp for air, he grabbed his jaw and turned his head to the side so he could devour his neck. 

His lips were everywhere, and Mike burned in every place he was touched, like Will was leaving permanent marks of passion in his skin. When he found the place that Mike liked best, the little divot between his jawbone and his ear, an involuntary gasp escaped him.

This encouraged Will more, and he started to lick and suck a red mark into his neck. Satisfied with his work, Will pulled back and looked at the bruise forming on Mike’s skin. Apparently, Will liked what he saw, because he started to work on another spot, nipping and grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin. 

Mike groaned again, feeling horny, desperate, hard, turned on, fucking everything. Will repositioned his grip on Mike’s jaw, pressing his fingers to his lips. He didn’t need to be told twice in order to open them up and let Will slide his fingers into his mouth. His mouth had gone almost completely dry, but he started sucking and lapping at his fingers with his tongue, like he was trying to draw every taste of Will out of them. There was something so sinful about that one simple action that it was almost dizzying. It felt like proof that Will really did want him, all of him, whatever he could give him. And Mike certainly did want to give. Will could have any part of him that he wanted to take, and he wouldn’t even have to ask for it. Mike was already his.

He bucked his hips up, pressing against Will’s hips and—shit—Will was every bit as hard as he was. Thankfully, Will took the initiative to press back down into him and grind them together, a feeling that was practically torturous through so many layers of fabric. And Mike was wearing jeans for christ’s sake; everything ached so much that he was desperate for Will to strip him naked and take him for all he was worth.

Will started slow at first, but his restraint broke quickly and he started to grind into him harder and faster. He looked incredible like that, his arms on either side of Mike’s shoulders, his head hanging down, eyebrows knit together and mouth slightly open. 

Then, he groaned, dropping his head forward on Mike’s chest. “Oh, fuck.”

Mike couldn’t take it anymore. “Will,” he smacked his arm rapidly, “Will, take my pants off.”

Suddenly, Will seemed to come back into himself. He stopped the way he was pressing his hips into Mike’s, instead leaning back and sitting on Mike’s thighs. His expression shifted from barely-contained lust to a sort of half-disappointed somberness. 

“No, I … I actually think we should wait until you’re sober. Until I’m sober. We’ve done enough.”

Mike deflated like a popped balloon. “What? Why?”

“I don’t really want to take your virginity while you’re high for the first time.”

Mike gaped at him. “How’d you know?”

“That you’re a virgin?” Will gestured at him vaguely. “Vibes.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish,” he giggled, climbing off of Mike and laying beside him in the tiny dorm bed instead.

They rested there for a moment, basking in each other and in the tingly feeling that spread throughout their bodies. They lay so close that their foreheads were almost touching, which seemed so much more intimate than anything else they had done. Will had his eyes closed, but Mike kept hoping he would open them. They were such a lovely brown color, the type that made a guy feel like he needed to start writing romantic poetry. 

“I think you’re so beautiful, Will,” he whispered, like if he spoke too loudly he’d scare him.

“I think you’re so beautiful,” Will blinked his eyes open and gave Mike a sleepy grin. “I like your smile. You always look vaguely like you’re bracing to run into a doorframe, so it’s nice to see you relax.”

“I hate you,” Mike smiled, not hating him in the least.

“You want me so bad.”

That was the worst part. “I do,” he groaned in frustration. 

“Don’t worry, it’s mutual,” Will grinned back at him. “Now, I’m going to go back to my own bed before I pass out. Weed always makes me sleepy,” he yawned.

Mike had half a mind to ask him not to, but he decided that way probably way too intense of a thing to ask for this quickly. But he still felt chilled through as soon as Will’s warm body left his bed.

He lay there awake for a long time, long after Will had climbed under the covers of his own bed and fallen asleep. Mike listened to his breathing, to his watch ticking, to the cars driving by on the road outside. There was so much that had happened. So much to process. It was like feeling soup all over again, except this time, all the feelings were good. Like the world had turned its volume down, and nothing urgent could reach him. 

He fell asleep with a gentle buzz under his skin, melting into the bedsheets.

✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

Mike woke up bracing for impact, like his body had already decided there would be bad news waiting for him. But no, Will hadn’t packed up his whole room and moved out under cover of darkness, and there was nobody waiting to pour water on him and tell him he’d been pranked. Instead, sun peeked through the blinds on the window, and Will slept soundly under his covers. Mike’s bed still smelled like smoke, and the memory of Will’s hands on him arrived fully-formed in his brain. 

And yet, Mike was not at peace. The list of things that could go wrong had gotten cataclysmically longer, and there was nothing he could undo now, just a million ways he could mess up next. 

He tried not to dwell on it, to agonize about all the little details and whirling thoughts as he got ready. But this time, he had more than just thoughts to get caught up in. His lips felt sore and his hair felt dirty from sweat. It was only after he got out of the shower and was brushing his wet hair did he remember the super obvious hickies on his neck. Physical reminders that what happened last night was real, and true, and not something that Mike had dreamed up. He’d have to wear a ski mask to hide those things. 

The bathroom door opened as someone entered the community space, and Mike slapped his hand over his neck, like someone super nonchalant and subtle. The boy who walked in gave him a weird look, and Mike waved at him as casually as he could. 

As soon as the boy was out of view, Mike pulled his phone out and texted Eddie.

ME: emergency emergency

ME: you have makeup right. 

Eddie started typing back almost immediately.

BAD ADVICE HOTLINE: it is STAGE MAKEUP for my BAND but yea. why.

ME: see attached image.

BAD ADVICE HOTLINE: HOLY MOLY 

ME: help!!!

BAD ADVICE HOTLINE: im already in the car.

Mike opened the door to his room quietly, expecting Will to be asleep, but he was already up and dressed in the five minutes Mike had been out. Almost like he had been waiting for him to leave.

“What are you up to today?” he asked, trying to sound casual, and not at all like he was replaying last night over and over in his head.

“I have a lot of errands to run today, so I’ll probably be out until nighttime,” Will tugged his shoes on without looking in Mike’s direction. 

“Oh.” Mike waits for him to elaborate, but he never did. “Um, mind if I join you?”

This time, Will did spare him a glance. He sighed, averting his eyes, looking at the ceiling like there was a script up there and Mike had thrown him off-kilter. “I shouldn’t have gotten you high. I don’t want to mess up living together.”

Mike reads between the lines: Last night was a mistake. We wouldn’t have kissed if we were sober. You crossed a boundary. He felt frozen, like his tongue was made of stone and his feet were molded into the carpet. “Yeah, totally man. Water under the bridge, or whatever.”

“Okay,” Will grabbed his keys and wallet, and he was halfway out the door before Mike could even process what was happening. “See ya.”

“See you—” Mike started, as the door closed in his face.

The silence left behind was louder than anything they’d ever said.

✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

By the time Eddie got to his dorm, Mike had already looked at plane tickets to Iceland.

“Don’t you think you’re being dramatic?” Eddie spun around in circles on Mike’s desk chair, trying to follow Mike as he paced in circles around his room.

“No. I’ve got to leave the country.” 

“The hickeys are not that bad.”

He paused dramatically, like a game show host about to change the rules. “Just wait until you hear who gave them to me.”

Eddie listened intently, open-mouthed and practically shaking with excitement while Mike recounted his night, but his face fell as soon as he started to talk about the morning after. That confirmed everything Mike had been thinking; he’d made a mistake. Will must be recounting the past couple months in his head, wondering how long Mike had been after him, uncomfortable and weirded out. He’d said it himself; he didn’t want their dynamic to change, and Mike had been the one to change it, after all. 

When he’d finished talking, he threw himself onto his bed and screamed into his pillow, like a super well-adjusted person.

“Yikes. Well …” Eddie thought for a moment, trying to think of something supportive to say that would make this all better. Mike waited with bated breath, desperately hoping that there was an angle to this that he wasn’t seeing, or an outcome he hadn’t considered. “Maybe he’s just not ready for a relationship? You did say he’s kind of slutty.”

“Will is not slutty. He’s … popular.”

“Maybe he wants to keep being ‘popular,’ then.”

“He’s popular enough with me!” Mike rolled over and hit his vape to relax, then hit it again. His sheets still smelled like weed, and he was hoping to smother the scent with blue razz. “Look. Last night was different. There were feelings. He likes me! Liked me? I’m not sure anymore. But it wasn’t just messing around.”

“I don’t know, dude.” Eddie shook his head sadly. “I really hate to say it, but it kind of sounds like he’s just an asshole who wanted to make you another one of his hookups, then realized he’d have to live with the consequences.”

No. That wasn’t it. That couldn’t be it. Will wasn’t—wasn’t like that. Wasn’t that manipulative, or that cruel. He thought things through better than that. He wouldn’t.

But yet, the whole time Eddie was dabbing concealer on his hickeys and ordering hamburgers and fries on Doordash, Mike kept thinking about the things Will had said, both last night and this morning. We’ve done enough, and I don’t want to mess up living together. Everything made it seem like Will had decided last night was a mistake. 

Well, Will’s “mistake” played in his mind like a broken record. It was the only thing that had ever felt that right. That good. He didn’t really care if it was a mistake or not. He wanted Will again, and he wanted so much more of him.

When Will got back to the dorm that night, he was cordial. Polite. He didn’t open the window or touch the thermostat. He asked about Mike’s day like he was a barista trying to get a tip, didn’t pry when Mike was vague, and sat down to do his homework. Mike only heard the first few notes of The Cure before the music was silenced in a pair of headphones that he didn’t even know Will had. 

A line had been drawn between them, and the divide was getting wider by the second. Mike’s plan to win Will back had been shut down before it even started.

✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

That week was awful. 

Not because Will was rude, but because he was nice. He never failed to wish him a good morning or a good night, stay out of his way if he was working on something, and one time he even brought Mike a Red Bull to energize him before a big test. 

Mike did not want a Red Bull, he wanted Will’s dick in his mouth.

Being around him was agonizing, especially when he acted like this, so Mike had taken to hiding in the showers when he didn’t want to go all the way to the library for an escape. Every time Will’s glance lingered a little too long, or their fingers brushed, or Will came up with a dumb excuse to leave the room but never ended up going, the coil in Mike’s heart wound up a little bit tighter. 

So he started hiding whenever Will was home, to avoid him and his aching, grating kindness. It felt like something was brewing under the surface, getting closer and closer to bursting.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out what it was.

It was a normal Wednesday, with Mike laying in bed scrolling past a dozen different videos that he’d send to Will if they weren’t busy pretending like they weren’t avoiding each other. He was interrupted by a knock on the door, which he tried to ignore just because he didn’t want to get out of bed. He stayed very still, trying not to sneeze and give himself away. After a moment, the knocking stopped, and an envelope slid under the door.

Now that was something worth getting out of bed for.

The envelope was stamped with the university logo and addressed to Will. But when he turned it over, he found it was unsealed, so he didn’t feel bad about opening it up and reading the contents.

He’d only gotten so far as the title when the door opened, and by the look on Will’s face, he knew exactly what Mike was reading. He stood there like someone had hit pause on him mid-thought, door still half open, while Mike held up the letter.

“A room change, Will?” He hated the hurt, weak sound in his voice. He hated feeling hurt and weak even more.

“Why are you reading my mail?” Will tried to look imposing, squaring his shoulders as he closed the door softly behind him, but he sounded scared. Scared of Mike, and of the pained look on his face.

“Why are you moving?”

“That’s—” Will couldn’t look him in the eye. “That’s none of your business.”

He was so tired of playing this game. Spending the whole week trying not to step on Will’s toes had been so exhausting that he didn’t even care what Will thought of him anymore. He could think Mike was too loud, too pushy, too bossy, too demanding—all the things that Mike knew he was but tried so hard not to be. He just wanted his friend back.

“It is my damn business! You are my roommate, and you’re—you’re avoiding me, you’re acting weird, you’re being so fucking nice! What is going on with you?”

“You’re mad at me because I’m being nice?”

“Yes!” Tears pricked at his eyes, and Mike was fully aware of how irrational he was acting. “Just yell at me! Just hate me, just snap, just tell me that you regret me! Anything other than pretending that nothing is wrong!”

“Nothing is wrong!” Will put his hands in the air like Mike was an overdramatic, petulant child. “Stop yelling at me! I’m fine, we’re fine!”

“We’re fine? Then why haven’t you looked me in the eye since we kissed?”

Will flinched, like the word kiss was a loaded weapon. “I’ve looked.”

“How could you? You haven’t even been here.”

“And you have? Where do you go when I’m home, Mike? Because it’s not the library; I’ve checked!”

Now that caught him off-guard. The fact that, at least once, Will had sought him out changed everything that he thought he knew about their new normal. “Why were you looking for me?” 

Will sank to the floor, dropping his head to his knees. “I’ve been looking for you all week.” He paused, and for a moment, Mike wasn’t sure if he was going to continue. “I was going to apologize. But you couldn’t even be in the same room as me, so I never got the chance.”

“Because all I do when you’re here is stare at the back of your head and replay every moment of that night, hoping that the ending will change.” The way Will had looked at him the next morning was plastered into his brain. Like he was a regret. “I have tried to rewrite it a dozen ways, but in every single one of them, you leave, and I can’t figure out why, and it really hurts.”

Will finally looked him in the eyes. “When I replay that night, I replay the parts where I gave you weed, I told you I liked you, I kissed you, and I took it further, even after you told me you just realized you liked guys and I knew you had never done substances before. I—I thought I took advantage of you, so I backed off, and then you pulled away more, so I just assumed that you felt more comfortable when I was nothing more than your absentee roommate.”

Every word felt like a slap across the face. How horribly they’d misinterpreted each other. “Oh, come on, don’t pretend like you have no idea how much I like you. The only thing that I wish would have gone differently is that when I told you to take my pants off, you listened.” 

That got Will’s attention. He covered his face, hiding behind his hands, but Mike could still see him blush. “Oh. Okay.”

“Yeah …”

“But I’m glad I didn’t, though. It feels like that’s all I do sometimes. I want to feel loved so badly, but I got so tired of being hurt that I just started skipping to the part that I knew everyone cared about so that I could feel something.” A tear rolled down Will’s cheek, and he wiped it away so forcefully that it left a little red mark on his face. “But then I was too much, too sexual, too desperate …” He listed his flaws out on his fingers. “Boring, useless, annoying, someone who got in the way easily and was the perfect target for blame. So even though I’d figured out what people wanted from me, I was still doing everything wrong.” 

Mike had been so caught up in his own emotions, in the irrational mess that was falling for your roommate, that he didn’t even start to think about what Will could have been feeling and why. Knowing how much Will had been dealing with while Mike’s only concern was his stupid crush made a painful feeling start to burn in his stomach. 

“That’s crazy, you shouldn’t think like that; you aren’t any of those things.”

“Yes, I am! I’m all of those things, and I’m okay with that! I’m not perfect and I don’t want to be. But I am so tired of being treated like I have to have all the answers and be strong all the time in order to be worth something; I just wish that there was someone other than myself who would love me in spite of it all!” He paused, catching his breath. “Why—why do I feel like I’d need to have fucking superpowers in order for people to finally care about me?”

“Okay, fine!” Mike threw his hands up. “If that’s how you feel, then I’ll admit it. I hate that you keep our dorm at subzero temperatures. I hate that you never use headphones, and play the same band on repeat constantly. I hate that my sheets smelled like weed for days after you blew smoke all over them. And I really hate that I had to look at the hickies you gave me all week, thinking you regretted it.” Mike let his words sink in. “You are a disaster, Will Byers, and you are the only thing I think about.”

For a second, Will’s expression was unreadable, and Mike was terrified that he’d just made everything worse. But then he smiled—a big, real, genuine smile, accompanied by tears that he couldn’t stop. Mike wiped them for him before Will even had the chance.

“Wow. Do you think I’m the worst roommate ever?” Will stifled a laugh while Mike crouched next to him and dried his cheeks. 

Mike snorted. “Please. Being your roommate was the best thing I’ve ever done. But I don’t want to be just your roommate, and I don’t want to be just another failed hookup.”

Will nodded in agreement. “I don’t want you to be that either.”

“What do you want me to be?” The question came out of Mike’s mouth before he even contemplated its weight. He’d be whatever Will needed him to be, and that was kind of scary.

“Someone I can be with all the time, not just in bed. Not just hidden. Someone who is not ashamed to be with me in the sunshine.” Will spoke with the certainty of someone who had already answered that question in his head, and rolled the words around until he was used to the way it sounded. It was sure, and solid, and probably the first time all year that Will had actually been honest with him.

“Let’s do it, then.” He sat in front of Will on the floor, taking his hands. “This weekend. We can—I don’t know, go to the movies or something. And we’ll hold hands the whole time and kiss during the previews and share a slushie because we don’t have enough money for two. And I won’t even bring my vape, so I won’t smell like blue razz.”

Will squeezed his hands, and the way they touched felt like the most natural thing in the world. Mike couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to realize he felt that way. This was right.

“I’d like that,” Will nodded, and the little smile on his face made Mike feel like he was looking at the sun peeking through the clouds. “Especially the part where you don’t smell like vape juice.”

“Cool,” he grinned, feeling like a gentle breeze had blown a storm cloud out of his heart.

“Cool.”

✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

The weekend approached rapidly, and Mike’s heart beat out of his chest whenever he thought about it. And if the fact that they’d be going on date, alone, together, to sit in a dark theater wasn’t enough, Will had suggested they go see a horror movie. 

Mike did not do horror movies. He super did not do horror movies. But Will had looked so excited about it, and he’d talked about how he’d read about the art direction and the cinematography and all sorts of things that went way over Mike’s head, so he booked the tickets and prayed that there would be no jump scares.

The morning of the movie date, he shot out of bed, waking up from a dream that he’d slept through the movie and that by the time he got up, Will had changed rooms.

Instead, Will was standing by the open window in just his boxers, blowing smoke into the freezing cold.

“Shut that,” Mike groaned, still groggy and heavy with sleep. “It’s like ice in here. What is wrong with you?”

Will heaved a dramatic sigh and shut the window with a bang. “I like it cold, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You could come warm me up, at least,” he shrugged, combing his hair out of his face.

“Oh, gladly,” Will crossed the room and took Mike’s cold hands in his warm ones. He leaned forward and placed a gentle little kiss on Mike’s lips, which was eagerly returned. “How romantic.”

“I’m going to romance you so good later.”

“Looking forward to it,” he kissed both of Mike’s cold hands. “I’m going to shower now.”

Mike would be a liar if he said his dick wasn’t in his hand the second Will left the room, wondering what kind of shampoo he used and if he was doing the exact same thing Mike was. If he didn’t have Will moaning in his ear again soon, he was going to start going insane. 

The happy buzz of the morning did not last long, because the whole way to the movie theater he was in full panic mode, which was ridiculous because he had no reason to be nervous. He saw Will every day. They lived together. The stakes could not possibly be lower, and yet he was on high alert. 

He was half expecting to get nasty looks, or for everybody in the theater to think wow, look at that ugly loser who cuts his hair to look like Van Halen, he wants to fuck that hot guy so bad. Instead, when they walked into the theater holding hands, nobody spared them a second glance except the guy at the snack counter who asked if they wanted their slushie to be cherry or watermelon or both.

The previews had already started by the time they got inside, and Mike led Will up to the very back row. He always sat in the back, to the chagrin of his friends who hated being so far away, but he liked not having to worry about getting a migraine from watching all the images flashing so close to his face.

But of course, the back row had other benefits too. 

Benefits that he thought about in great detail during all the previews and especially when the lights finally shut all the way off. He bounced his leg aggressively until Will kicked him with his heel and told him to knock it off. Whispering an apology, he moved his hand to Will’s knee.

He learned quickly that Will liked to talk during movies. Every once and a while, he’d lean over and whisper something to him, a comment about the story, the filmmaking, one of the actors, and once, he’d told Mike that his hair looked great today. 

Mike did not talk during movies. In fact, he considered this a mortal sin, especially during a horror movie, when he was trying to rationalize every little scene so that he didn’t get paranoid later. The suspenseful music alone was giving him the creeps, and he thought he could have gone his whole life without seeing this film. He needed Will to be quiet so that he could fucking concentrate. 

Will was having an awesome time. Mike wanted to rewind back to yesterday and beg him to pick a different movie.

He ran his hand up and down Will’s thigh, needing something to do with his hands while he zoned in on the film like if he looked away for even a second he’d miss the whole thing. Will leaned over the arm of the chair to whisper something to him, and Mike slid his hand up higher, like someone super calm and casual who had done this sort of thing before.

His plan worked; Will froze immediately. “Mike—”

“Shh …” he whispered, feeling Will get hard under his touch. He’d never done this before, but, well, he’d had plenty of alone time to figure out the mechanics. He cupped Will through his pants, running his thumb along the outline of his dick, then pressing it against the tip.

“Mike—”

“Watch the movie, Will,” he whispered, putting a finger up to his lips. 

Will leaned back in his chair, mouth open in shock, and let Mike touch and tease him, just to keep him quiet. Mike was glued to the movie screen, his heart pounding in his chest, blood pressure rising with every shift and twitch of Will’s hips. He felt like he was going to cum, and he wasn’t even the one being touched.

Will was his new favorite addiction.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been touching him when Will finally broke. He shoved Mike’s hand away and slid out of his chair, down onto his knees. Suddenly, the movie didn’t seem all that scary or interesting after all. Mike forgot about it immediately, and he’d never been so grateful to have chosen the back row.

He watched in awe as Will got between his legs and parted his thighs. He mouthed over his pants, and offered an entertained eyebrow raise when he realized Mike was already hard. As if he could be blamed for it, this was the most action he’d gotten, like, ever. 

And his roommate was about to blow him in a movie theater.

Will tugged his pants down to his mid-thighs and kissed the exposed skin there. 

“Watch the movie, Mike,” he instructed, smiling at the way Mike was gaping at him.

He did as he was told, trying to focus on the screaming couple on screen, but what concentration he had had been broken. He had no clue what they were screaming about. Every thought, every nerve, every fibre of his being was completely focused on the way that Will was placing hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses on his cock. 

He’d had so many filthy thoughts about Will, and he’d still managed to be outdone by reality. The calm, collected, experienced persona he’d put on earlier was completely gone, and the one that replaced it was the version of him that really, really wanted to be fucked six ways to Sunday. If he didn’t feel the need to repent after, it wasn’t enough. 

Will started to tease and lick at his tip, and Mike bit his hand to stay quiet, when he wanted nothing more than to tip his head back and moan. 

He realized he had completely forgotten the title of the movie. The only name he could remember was Will’s.

Then, Will did the unthinkable; he took Mike’s whole cock down into his throat. Mike gagged on air, biting into his hand so hard he thought it would bleed, but that still didn’t stop the strangled noise that left his throat.

Three rows down in front of them, someone turned around. Will ducked out of sight, digging his nails into Mike’s leg like he was punishing him. That’s when Mike remembered, hey, there are other people here too.

“Time to go, Mike,” Will grit his teeth and got to his feet, dragging him out of the cinema as quickly and casually as possible. 

As soon as they emerged into the sunlight, Will turned to him.

“What is wrong with you!?”

“Me? What’s wrong with you!” Mike smacked him in the arm. “I didn’t realize you were a freak!”

Will blushed crimson. “Me being a freak only works if you are normal about it.”

“I couldn’t help it! I didn’t—I didn’t know it would feel like that.”

It took a second for Will to get what he meant. “Oh, shit.” He dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t believe this. I fucked up again.”

“Nah,” he bumped their shoulders together. “I’m glad it was you. I wanted it to be you.”

“That is so not the point,” Will protested. “In the movie theater, what is wrong with me …” he muttered to himself.

He didn’t care where they were, he wanted Will in any way he could have him. “We could always do it again … not in the movie theater,” Mike scuffed the toe of his shoe on the sidewalk, avoiding eye contact.

“We’d better catch the next bus home then.”

The day just kept getting better and better. Mike bounced his leg the whole ride home, practically vibrating with nervous energy and excitement. A million thoughts raced in his head, worries and stresses for all the little things that could go wrong and ways he could embarrass himself. What if he was bad? Will would never say anything, of course, but what if, after all was said and done, he decided that he’d seen enough of Mike?

Will, on the other hand, was behaving perfectly normally, completely unaware of Mike’s internal spiral. He tried to stop him from bouncing his leg a few times, to no avail. He ended up holding his hand, running his thumb over his knuckles, and pointing out restaurants he liked every time the bus passed them. Mike imagined taking him out to eat at every single one, then blowing him in the bathroom before dessert. Anything to hear those pretty moans again, to look up and see Will flushed and panting, desperate, needy … 

Mike pulled his sweatshirt lower over his hips and tried to think about something else. But his mind wandered again, and Will had to smack him in the arm to get him to focus when their stop was coming up.

They walked back to the dorm together, hands interlinked, stealing little glances at each other and then trying to pretend they hadn’t been looking. It was sweet and innocent, not at all the way Mike had been imagining them. Especially because Will actually seemed nervous, and not like the sexy, confident version of him Mike had conjured in his head. The fact that Will even got nervous was something sort of alien to him. He’d literally seen him break down crying in front of him, but the fact that he would be worried about something like this managed to both ease his nerves and work them up at the same time.

He practically counted down the steps to their dorm. Only 4 more rooms. 2 more rooms. Room 1221—and the key was sliding in the lock. The door was opening. They were stepping inside, and before he could even get the door fully shut, Will grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against it. 

“Fuck,” Mike breathed as Will practically attacked him with a smothering kiss. “I—I want you so bad.”

“I’m yours,” Will whispered back, between deep kisses. “However you like.”

Christ, how did he always know exactly what to say to light Mike’s heart on fire? How was it possible that he was everything he didn’t even know he needed?

Mike switched their positions, caging Will against the door, spreading lingering kisses over his neck like it was a form of worship.

Will grasped at Mike’s hair like he was drowning and it was going to keep him afloat. “Oh, Mike …”

The noise of Will’s phone ringing pierced the heavy atmosphere of the space, and Will immediately silenced it and threw it halfway across the room.

“Mike …”

“I got you, yeah …”

His phone rang again, loud and insistent, from where it had landed under Mike’s desk chair.

“Shit,” Will groaned, pushing Mike off of him like the action physically pained him. “That’s my sister, Jane. She’s the only one who can contact me when the ringer’s off.”

“Not your brother?”

“Jonathan is nearly twenty-five. He can figure himself out.”

He heaved a sigh and picked up the phone. “Hi, Janie.” 

The mildly annoyed look on his face immediately turned into one of concern. “You cannot be serious.” Long pause. “You are serious.” There was another long pause, and then he said something that made Mike’s heart drop: “Okay, I’ll be there in five.”

“Everything alright?”

Will tried—and failed—to hide the mild amusement on his face. “She decided to buy a curling iron because she wants to look pretty for this girl that she likes. She then burnt the shit out of her hand on said curling iron and doesn’t have a first aid kit, because of course she doesn’t. I’ll be back soon, probably.”

“I can come with,” Mike shrugged, desperate to be a part of Will’s life in any way possible. “I can like … carry the Neosporin or something.” 

Mike was going to give himself a lobotomy.

“Right,” Will giggled at him. “I do need a big strong man to carry the Neosporin.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Will did as he was told, only this time they didn’t kiss like they were trying to steal each other’s oxygen, they kissed like they were each other’s oxygen. Mike couldn’t keep himself away from Will. If they were on opposite sides of the country, he’d drive all night to get to him. If they were separated by an ocean, he’d swim. He wanted to bottle Will’s scent and drink it.

But Jane was still in need of ointment and a hairdresser, so there could be no more waxing poetics that afternoon. 

Fortunately, her dorm was just a short walk away. 

Will had just raised his hand to knock on her door, hadn’t even made contact yet, when she ripped it open and shoved her injured hand in their faces.

“I’ve been maimed,” she announced, but she didn’t look particularly upset about it. Something told Mike that she carried herself with cautiously optimistic joy all the time, even when she’d given herself severe skin damage.

The first thing he noticed about her other than the skin damage was that she and Will were nearly identical—except, of course, for the pink streaks at the ends of her hair. Jane and Will weren’t just siblings, they were twins. 

He realized he was staring, so he tried to make himself seem useful. “We brought medicine to fix your maiming,” he held up the cream, unhelpfully.

“Who is he?” Jane pointed at him, talking to Will as if Mike was not even there. She took a hairbrush out of the front pocket of her overalls and ran it through her hair.

Will paused for a second, like he wasn’t sure how to answer. “My roommate, Mike.”

Her eyebrows flew up. “Oh, this is Mike. Yeah, he can come in.”

Any immature twinge of disappointment he felt at being just Will’s roommate immediately disappeared when he realized he was discussed enough for his name to become recognizable. It made him feel special to be not just Mike, but Will’s Mike.

Once he’d sufficiently been judged as not a threat, he and Will were invited into Jane’s room. She lived in a cute little single space, decorated top to bottom with posters, stuffed animals, little trinkets, and painted CDs. Color and passion from head to toe, just like her outfit—and seemingly, her personality.

She sat on her bed among a mass of stuffed animals and held out her arm so Will could treat her. Mike, already feeling like he probably should have stayed home, took the floor. He hadn’t even fully settled before she decided she had to get a full firsthand judgement of his character.

“So, Mike. If that’s even your real name,” she began, and Will immediately groaned like he knew what was coming. “I hear you and my brother are involved.”

“I would say we are involved, yes,” he responded tentatively, like he wasn’t sure if there was a right answer or not. 

“I see,” she drummed her fingers on her leg, supervillain style. “And why should he waste his time on an emo kid reject when he has boys lined up out the door?”

Will buried his face in his hands. “Jesus, Jane, stop it.” 

“Just facts.”

Why should Will waste his time on Mike? What did Mike have to offer that he couldn’t get from someone cooler, tougher, hotter, and more experienced? Probably nothing. What was it about him that kept Will coming back? What made him worthy of someone that he would be with?

And it was simple, really, because whether or not Mike knew it, he thought about Will like it was a full-time job, and that kind of attention and adoration was completely foreign to Will. Mike had started to fill the hole in Will’s chest that insisted he’d never be loved beyond a one-night stand. Mike was someone who showed him he was worth more. Someone who had started to fall for Will, flaws and all.

“I don’t know, really. I think …” he began. “I think Will should waste his time on me because I wouldn’t wrong him to save my own life.” 

“Good answer,” Jane nodded, patting Will’s leg, while he avoided eye contact with both of them. “And what do you bring to the table?”

“Uh.” Mike paused. “Ten dollars and a vape? Wendy’s?”

“Right …”

He scrambled to think of a single interesting or useful thing about himself. “Wait, I can curl hair! I heard you are in need of a hairdresser.”

“You can curl hair?” She asked, skeptical. “Women’s hair?”

“Yeah! I’m really good at it.”

Jane turned to Will. “He’s ran through. Dump his ass.”

Mike’s jaw dropped. “What? No! I’m—I’m not! I’m—”

“Relax, I’m joking!” She dropped her tough guy act to giggle at his verbal flailings. “I wouldn’t shame you if you were. And I’d really appreciate it if you did my hair.”

After Will had finished bandaging her up, she plugged in her curling iron and let Mike get to work. He felt very professional holding the curler in one hand and hair clips in the other, comb between his teeth. She continued to talk while he made his way around her head, sharing all the little details of the cute red haired girl in her math class that she wanted to impress. 

“She’s just so pretty,” Jane clutched at her heart, pretending to swoon. “I want her to think I am pretty too. You probably think I’m silly.”

“You are pretty, Jane,” he told her, letting another curl bounce free. “With or without curls. Or burn marks.” He tilted his head to the side, thinking. “You know, you remind me of my little sister. She was always late to everything, so she’d have me curl her hair while she did her makeup to save time. I hated it at first, but it was nice to be a part of her world, while she told me about whatever lame boy she liked this week.”

He glanced over at Will and realized he was being stared at. Will was looking at him like he was a real-life manifestation of Superman holding a puppy and a gallon of ice cream, and when they made eye contact, he didn’t look away. 

Mike turned red under the intense heat of his gaze, suddenly feeling shy. Of course bonding with Jane was the thing that sent Will over the edge. Will was sweet, and endlessly caring, and a person with more depth than the ocean. Jane was a special part of his life, and now she’d be a part of Mike’s. Package deal. He got that. He had siblings too, and he’d probably go all heart eyes if Will made them feel even a little bit as special as Will made him feel every day. But to be fair, he got heart eyes when Will breathed.

They ended up staying at Jane’s much longer than anticipated, because once he’d finished with her hair, she decided that he was her hero and they needed to be best friends. They’d bonded over her impressive collection of Wonder Woman comics and exchanged usernames on Minecraft. They were in the middle of a heated debate about rhythm games when her phone pinged.

“Who is it, Will?” she asked, too invested to go check herself.

“Max?”

She practically dove onto her bed to grab the phone, tackling Will like it was fourth-and-goal.

“This is the girl?” Mike asked.

“This is the girl,” Jane confirmed, pushing her bangs out of her eyes to read the message. “And—she wants to hang out! Tonight! Ohmygod!”

She bounced up and down, and Will and Mike joined her, holding hands and hopping in a circle like excited little kids. 

“Yay, yay, yay!” She stopped to catch her breath and look at the time. “Shit. Okay, you guys have to go, I have to pick out a cute outfit and put glitter on every square inch of my body.”

“Okay, okay,” Will laughed, escorting himself out of the room. “Have a great time tonight!”

“An awesome time,” Mike scissored his fingers together.

He heard Jane laughing as he shut the door. “Don’t come back, Mike!”

Will’s hand found Mike’s as soon as they started down the hallway. He intertwined their fingers and squeezed, like Mike might slip away. “I’m really happy you guys got along,” 

Mike shrugged. “She’s special to you, which makes her special to me. And she’s adorable.”

“She is, isn’t she?” 

They got blasted with cold air the second they stepped outside, but Will pressed himself closer to Mike, their hips and shoulders bumping with every step, so he couldn’t complain about a thing. 

They made it back to their dorm in record time, shivering and chilled to the bone. Yet Mike still managed to feel warm in the cheeks, every nerve on high alert from Will’s presence. The way he had looked at him earlier was seared in Mike’s brain, printed on the inside of his eyelids. He needed to calm down.

“I’m going to step out and make a call,” he announced to Will, who was busy stealing one of his blankets to warm up with.

Mike trekked the familiar path to the bathroom, and ducked inside of the shower room to hide. Only safely tucked away behind the curtains did he feel like he was able to breathe. He sat there for a moment, absorbing the events of the afternoon, everything from the movie theater to meeting Jane. 

Oh, he was really in it now. Will had made his way into every corner of his brain, every part of his life, and he needed to have him or else he wouldn’t be okay. It was overwhelming, and he was so tired of trying to be cool about everything. He wanted to pour out all of his feelings to Will, he wanted to kiss him until his lips were sore, he wanted to know every little thing about him, down to which sock he put on first. He wanted him, in every way that a person could. 

He pulled out his phone and texted his favorite chronically online consultant.

ME: Eddie help I’m down so fucking bad

BAD ADVICE HOTLINE: no shit. what happened now.

ME: He’s just so AHHH I’m going to propose marriage

ME: Also he blew me in the movie theater.

BAD ADVICE HOTLINE: AND YOU DIDN’T TEXT ME IMMEDIATELY???

ME: I’m terrified. He’s so sexy 

ME: What if he thinks I’m a loser and I give bad head

BAD ADVICE HOTLINE: you are a loser, but im sure you suck dick like a pro

Mike deeply hoped that he was going to be the first person on the planet to absolutely nail it on his first try. I mean, he was bad at pretty much everything else, he desperately needed a win.

God, he could just picture it; Will pushing him to his knees and guiding his movements, pulling his hair, making the sounds he didn’t realize had Mike’s head spinning ever since he’d heard them.

He’d gotten himself so worked up that he didn’t register that someone else had entered the room until the shower next to him turned on. Fuck. 

Mike wondered if it would be wrong to jerk off with someone else in the room. Probably. He spent several minutes trying to decide what to do about the ache in his heart and his pants before he cut his losses and got up to wander back to his room.

He didn’t get very far though, because he was stopped in his tracks by a sound that he’d recognize underwater with earplugs. A low moan—well, more like a whimper, really—came from the shower next to him. Even over the rush of the water, it rang in his ears, and heat pooled in his stomach. He’d heard that noise more than once in his dreams. 

Then it came again, muffled like it was being suppressed against the back of a hand.

Mike physically couldn’t take it any more. 

“Will …?” he asked, his voice low. He wanted it to sound seductive, but it came out timid and unsure. 

There was a very, very long pause. For a second, he was scared he’d gotten it wrong.

“Mike?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed, emerging from his hiding spot, legs seeming to move on their own. Standing in front of Will’s shower curtain, he could see the vague shadow of his body under the water. His heart was beating so loud he could hardly think.

“I—sorry, I’m embarrassed, I’m not sure what to say,” Will fumbled over his words.

In a bout of confidence so strong that he could actually feel the power of his ancestors behind him, Mike said the only cool, calm thing he’d ever said in his whole life. “I was hoping you’d say that I could join you.”

Will sucked in breath. “Oh. Okay, yes. Immediately yes.”

Fuck, okay. He hadn’t actually thought he’d get this far. Saying the thing was hard enough already, doing the thing was going to be infinitely harder. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it onto the bench with Will’s clothes, feeling the way the steam from the shower clung to his skin. He tugged his sweatpants off, and finally his boxers, hands shaking and blood rushing. 

He stood in front of the shower curtain, fully stripped, confidence rapidly depleting. What if Will thought he was ugly? He certainly wouldn’t call himself hot, he was all lanky limbs and sharp angles and practically zero muscle. Will was softer, with bigger arms, certainly nicer to look at. And it was irrational to think that he’d be disappointed, because they used to change in front of each other daily, Will had already seen all of him. But this was different. This time, they were allowed to look.

He bit the bullet and pulled the curtain open a little, just enough to slip inside. 

Will stood under the water, streams running over his chest and arms, hair sticking to his forehead. His skin was pink from the heat, and he stood like he had stolen all of Mike’s waning confidence. Like he knew he was hot, and he knew that Mike was going to start drooling the second he saw him.

“Hello,” Mike waved, like a fucking idiot.

Will giggled and waved back. “Hi.”

“Sorry, I’m nervous,” he joined Will under the water, trying very hard both to look and not look at the same time. He felt too cold and too hot at the same time, overwhelmed and desperately in need of more.

“Why are you nervous?” Will took his hands, gentle and cautious, as if any sudden motion might spook him.

“I’ve thought about this exact scenario hundreds of times,” he confessed. 

“Yeah?” Will leaned in and kissed him, mouth open, lips hot. 

Mike didn’t waste any time leaning in, pulling his hands away so he could cup his face and run his fingers through his wet hair. And god, it was incredible. Chests pressed together, tongues brushing, hot water streaming between them … he would come back to this moment forever in dreams. 

Will pulled him closer, backing them against the wall, and grabbed loosely at Mike’s thigh. 

Maybe Mike lacked the confidence to initiate, but he was great at following instructions. 

He slid his thigh between Will’s legs, and Will responded immediately, rocking his hips into him. 

Jesus. Will Byers was grinding on his thigh. Will Byers was grinding on his thigh, and Mike could do nothing besides stare at him, mouth open, eyes wide, with no idea what to do with his hands. And god he looked so good it was unfair, hair wet and messy, cheeks red, water caught in his eyelashes. Mike could cum just looking at him.

Finally, his brain produced one thought, and that thought was: touch him. He grabbed Will’s waist to help guide him as he thrust against him, feeling the heat from his body and the way his muscles worked under his skin. Will whined, head tipped back, breath coming heavy, like the only thing he needed in the whole world was to be touched by Mike.

Mike grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him, rough and deep, with way too much tongue. Every part of them was touching and it wasn’t enough. He needed so much more. He made his way over Will’s jaw, down his neck, and to the place where it connected to his shoulder. He dug his teeth into the smooth skin, like it would brand Will with his love. There, he sucked a mark so dark that it would probably last until next week.

“Mike …” Will grabbed at every part of him he could reach, and Mike felt like he was on fire everywhere he was touched. “Is—is this what we did in your fantasies?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but the way he asked it made it sound so goddamn filthy. Everything that came out of his mouth sounded like pure sin. It felt appropriate actually, given the things that were happening in his head. He wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to voice them had he not been given an opening.

“Well,” Mike began, grabbing Will’s hips harder to stop him from moving. “Kind of.”

“What’s different?” he opened his beautiful brown eyes, half-lidded and lust filled.

Mike took a deep breath and slowly got to his knees. “Usually, it starts sort of like this.”

“Oh,” Will breathed, mouth half-open. “You want to—”

“Please.”

His eyes widened, and Mike registered the exact moment in which Will realized that he fucking loved that. He got the impression that Will was usually the one begging, but Mike had no desire to make him do so. He wanted to give him exactly what he wanted the second he wanted it. He sort of felt like he belonged on his knees.

“You need me that bad?” Will asked, looking down at him in a way that was so dominant and yet so desperate at the same time.

“Yes,” he nodded, with no hesitation. “Please, Will, it’s all I can think about.”

He kissed the inside of Will’s thighs, feeling blessed to have been given the privilege. His dick throbbed with every shift of Will’s hips and tremor in his thighs. He needed to please him. And really, with how much he’d been thinking about this, he should be a pro. What he lacked in skill, he’d certainly make up for enthusiasm.

He worked his way up towards Will’s core, pressing kisses wherever he could reach, just to feel the way goosebumps rose on his skin. Will suppressed a whimper when Mike finally took his dick in his hand, but Mike wanted more than that. He wanted the whole floor to hear what he could do to Will.

He pressed kisses up the length of his shaft, stopping before the tip and going back down. Will groaned, his head hitting the tiled wall as he tried to thrust into his hand.

“Mike, stop teasing.”

He complied, and licked the precum off of his tip before sliding it into his mouth. Will moaned like he’d never been touched before, and that was all Mike needed to pull back, spit on his cock, and take him as deep as he could. 

Annoyed that he couldn’t quite go all the way, Mike started to work him with his hand to compensate for it. His mind raced, trying to keep track of all the moving parts—spit, no teeth, in and out, that’s probably too much spit now, hand, up and down—but once he got a consistent rhythm and he wasn’t scared to death that he’d fuck up and bite him, he let the stress drain out of him and let his mind go blank. It was like his brain had finally decided to take a break from all that damn thinking and shut off entirely.

Will let him revel in the feeling for a moment before he decided to take matters into his own hands. His fingers threaded through Mike’s hair, stopping his well-controlled movements with a sharp tug.

“Let me fuck your mouth?”

Based on the teasing grin on Will’s face, Mike had probably nodded a little too enthusiastically. Will held him steady by his hair and tentatively pushed into his wet mouth, choking back a whimper as he slid over Mike’s tongue. When he hit the back of his throat, Mike moaned like he was the one getting sucked, eyebrows knit together and spit running down his chin.

“God, Mike,” Will breathed, pushing him deeper. “You look so fucking good down there.”

He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him at that, gagging on Will’s cock, feeling his tip in his throat. He wondered if he was going to be able to make Will cum, and what sort of sounds he’d make then, spilling into Mike’s mouth. Fuck.

Gripping tight to Will’s thigh with one hand, Mike reached for his dick with the other.  He rubbed his thumb over the sensitive tip of his cock, smearing the sticky precum and giving himself a few slow strokes, matching the speed Will was going at. 

Ever the observant guy, Will deliberately increased his pace, grasping tighter at the back of Mike’s neck, hips moving like he’d die if he stopped. The pace he set was brutal, and every stroke made Mike feel closer. Will could mock him for cumming fast all he wanted, but when he was fulfilling every part of Mike’s favorite fantasy, he couldn’t really help it. 

Tears filled his eyes every time Will’s tip pressed into the back of his throat, and he’d started to wonder if Will was doing it on purpose. His orgasm was building as fast as the tears, and he let himself moan on Will’s cock like it was his life’s purpose.

When his whole body felt heavy and the pleasure started to reach its peak, he forced himself to stop the movement and dug his nails into Will’s thighs instead.

“Why’d you stop?” Will asked, breathless, slowing his movement and easing Mike off of his dick.

“Gonna cum,” he admitted, wiping the spit off his chin, pretending to be very interested in the shower drain.

“Already?”

“Yes, Will, already,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotten off while thinking about this a dozen times, it’s not going to take me long now that I’ve finally got the real thing.”

“You—” Will paused like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You get off thinking about me face-fucking you?”

“Yes. Now please shut up and just use me, will you?”

Will’s eyebrows shot up so high they practically blended with his hairline. “Yeah? You want that?” 

“Seriously, do you want me to beg or what?” 

To Mike’s surprise, he actually thought about it for a second. “No, not yet. I have another idea.”

His knees were red and sore from kneeling on the tile when Will took him by the hand and pulled him up to his feet, but he didn’t really mind. He sort of wished he was still down there.

Will switched their positions, backing Mike up against the wall this time. He shivered as his back hit the cold tile, then shivered again for an entirely different reason when Will took his cock in his hand. Placing kisses along his neck and chest, drawing out every action, making every touch torturous, he gave him a few lazy strokes. Mike tried so hard to behave, to let Will take his time, to let him rub those awful little circles into his tip at a speed so slow it was almost painful, but he broke quickly. He thrust into Will’s hand, needing more pressure, more speed, something, anything.

“Ah, no,” Will pushed his hips back against the wall. “Don’t be impatient. You waited so long for this, you can’t wait a little longer?”

“You are evil,” Mike decided, but he still opened his mouth when Will tried to slip his fingers inside.

Will laughed like that was exactly the reaction he was hoping for. “Is that a challenge, Michael?”

“No,” he insisted, voice muffled as he tried to speak around Will’s fingers.

Will decided to make it a challenge anyway, because of course he did. By the time he was done stroking and teasing him with his thumb, he’d covered Mike’s neck in hickies, soft little pink ones and dark ones that would hurt for days. He thrust his fingers in and out of Mike’s mouth and let the spit run down his wrist.

“Will,” he groaned around his fingers, trying and failing to wipe his mouth.

“Shut up, Mike,” Will pushed deeper in his throat. “No talking. You look pretty with your mouth full.”

 It was only when Mike’s groans turned into helpless whines that Will gave his mouth a break and started to increase his pace.

“Ooh, you liked that?” Will asked, his voice low. 

Frustrated beyond belief, Mike grit his teeth and tried to keep it together. “I hate you.”

“Really? Because I don’t think you do,” he gave him an innocent little smile. “But I think I know something else you’ll like.”

Will adjusted his position again, standing a little straighter so he could almost match Mike’s height. In his hand, he took both his dick and Mike’s. They made eye contact for just a second as Will started moving his hand at a steady pace, and when he saw the blissed-out look in Mike’s eyes, he finally gave him something that was not too fast or too slow. And god, the friction—with Will being just a bit shorter, it meant that his tip rubbed against Mike’s shaft with every stroke. 

“Ah, shit,” he gasped, watching Will’s hand work. He felt dizzy, head spinning, heart beating too loud, blood pounding in his ears. It was so much. It was exactly what he needed. This—Will—was everything. 

Mike hadn’t even realized how hard he was grabbing onto him until Will moaned, snapping him back to reality, and making him aware of the little red half-moon marks his nails had left in Will’s shoulder. But moreso, he was aware of the wrecked look on Will’s face. His lips parted, eyes blinking heavily, and he looked like wanted nothing more than to close them and sink into the feeling of pleasure. 

Being touched felt good, watching Will touch himself was better; like something out of the world’s hottest porno. Something that was incredible and filthy all at the same time, so right yet so wrong. 

Everything about Will was such an amazing whirlwind of feeling and emotion and an intrinsic power that he had to make Mike chase after his every step. And with Will finally starting to relax, to let his walls down, and not pretending like he’s got it together all the time, Mike had the blessing of watching him come undone. Making him come undone. Not even his wildest imagination could have predicted this feeling.

“I—Will, I—” he started, then cut himself off with a moan that he couldn’t have stopped if he’d tried. “I’m close—”

“Me too,” Will nodded, his breathing labored, eyebrows knit together. His full concentration was on where they were rubbing together, steadying himself as goosebumps raced over his skin.

Mike grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him into an aggressive kiss. Will jolted into him, trying as hard as he could to keep his rhythm from breaking as he grabbed at Mike’s hair with his other hand. Their kiss was messy and wet, intermittent with heavy breathing and broken moans until they were panting and whining against each other’s lips, like they physically could not pull away.

He threw his head back against the tile and let his hips jerk against Will’s as his orgasm hit him. 

“Oh, fuck …” he groaned, and Will smothered his words in a kiss as Mike spilled over his hand. Fireworks went off in his head, and his veins felt like they were full of molten lava, like the heat from Will’s touch had melted through his skin.

“That’s it, feels so good,” Will whispered as he worked Mike through his climax and himself to his own finish. “Ah, Mike—”

He came hard, muffling his moans against Mike’s marked-up neck, both of them leaving bruises with the force of their grip on each other’s skin. 

Once the feelings had subsided, they stood there for a moment, holding onto each other under the heat of the water, heads spinning and breath mingling in gentle kisses. Together, they felt right. Like maybe, they actually had done everything right. Nothing felt quite so big or frightening when there was someone holding you.

Will pressed his forehead against Mike’s, their chests rising and falling against each other. “You okay?”

“Awesome,” he responded, barely trusting himself to speak. He’d probably collapse if Will let go of him. “You?”

“Awesome,” Will laughed, mimicking him. “And exhausted.”

“Nap time?”

Will yawned and stretched, taking a step back to rinse himself off. “Sounds wonderful.”

As Mike stumbled back to their room, hand locked with Will’s, he was still half-convinced he had dreamt everything up. Had that really just happened? The two of them, together—and it felt that good—was still much too surreal for him to wrap his head around. He was almost afraid to let Will go, like the second they lost contact with each other he’d slip away. So when Will tried to drop his hand after they got inside, he couldn’t help the way he hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Will squeezed his hand.

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

Mike couldn’t help it; he felt like any second, someone was going to yank the rug out from under him, and everyone would point and laugh because he was the only one who didn’t see it coming. 

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

Will smiled at him; a real, genuine smile that showed his teeth and made his eyes squint a little, like he needed to hear that just as badly as Mike needed to say it. “Oh, please,” he wrapped him in a hug, his wet hair against Mike’s cheek. “Good luck getting rid of me.”

Mike soaked up every bit of his love, before their embrace became a wrestling match over whose bed they were going to sleep in. Will won, seeing as he was just a tiny bit stronger, and Mike let himself flop down in Will’s yellow sheets, pulling him every bit as close as possible.

Sometimes, things had a crazy way of working themselves out. Sometimes, the crazy, messed-up loser gets the guy, and sometimes that guy is his roommate. Sometimes that roommate makes him feel like he isn’t crazy and messed up at all. Sometimes they make each other feel normal, and safe. 

With Will’s head on his chest and their bodies tucked into each other, Mike drifted off to sleep.

He dreamed about Will.

Sometimes, love isn’t nearly as far away as it seems.