Chapter Text
Will had always been really good at playing pretend. It had saved him from losing his mind at least twice now (don’t worry, he counted). When everything else was blowing up, he had found comfort in the familiar, the warm, and the quiet. Walls of imagery that didn’t exist kept him from being seen, perceived, hurt. Although he didn’t need to hide behind them anymore, who he was or what he was capable of, he had found that same solace in living with his childhood best friend Mike Wheeler in New York straight out of high school, them against the world.
What he did not anticipate was how rapidly his entanglement in a daily intimate exploration with Mike Wheeler involving hands, lips, and thoughts heavier than the words used to wield them would become reality and not, as he would have thought, pretend. He couldn’t have come up with all the things that happened in that sexuality crisis if he tried.
Shocked? Will was, too. If it sounds like whiplash, it’s because it was. He should probably provide some (relatively long, confusing, and important) context. Will was connecting pieces that were still in motion, disjointed but relevant to each other. You have been warned.
Everything had ended with an exclamation point instead of a period. Vecna went down hard under the hands of the people he had hurt most, and there would be no hearing from him again. In the aftermath, with everyone alive and Max awake and back to her charismatically blunt self, it had been decided that they all needed to spend at least one more day making memories as a group before they started their new lives with (hopefully) significantly less psychological torment involved.
Everyone agreed unanimously that it should end where it started: in the Wheeler basement.
The pretense of a movie floated through the air as they spent time throwing slightly burnt popcorn at each other, and Dustin and Lucas argued enthusiastically about which movies would be best to watch when they came back to Hawkins next. With Dustin on his way to MIT, Lucas and Max already signing their leases in California, and Jane gearing up to finish school in Hawkins with Hopper and Joyce to guide her every step of the way, the only question mark in Will’s mind hung over Mike. He didn’t know what Mike wanted his future to be. Everything had happened so abruptly that when Will passed Mike in the hall of the Wheeler house his family still claimed sanctuary in, or wound up the courage to ask when they sat on Mike’s bed reading comics, the moment always passed him by. He hadn’t figured out what Mike wanted, and he felt horrible for it. He was convinced he should somehow know. Will’s thoughts ran rampant from his space on the floor as his friends’ voices rang around him, anything but grounded.
Before everything had finally settled, things had been different with Mike. Somewhere in those eighteen months where they had shared blankets and space and time, Mike had become comfortable with him again. He sat close, asked questions that other people would refuse to answer, swung his arms over Will like he was always meant to be fixed to his hip. During that window, they had spent early morning hours breaking the quiet by talking about New York, how loud and busy it would be. How many car horns it would take for them to go crazy together at night, and whether the lights were actually as bright as people said they were. Whether Will was on the floor beside Mike while he peered over at Will with his adorable bedhead or Will was crammed next to Mike on his bed, pointing at the ceiling like they could see the stars through it, they had dreamed out loud about a land that felt as far away as their fantasies. Until now.
But Will wasn’t sure if things had changed. Those ramblings happened weeks, months before they had made these plans to reunite the party that saved them from drowning in fear and hopelessness during the worst window of their lives. Mike had wanted it then, maybe, in so many words. He had never outright said it, but it was left like a thin sheet in the air, subtle but laying over them delicately. An unspoken promise. But maybe Mike wanted to go to some big university to get his degree in literature, like Harvard or something. Maybe he would go to California with Lucas and Max. Maybe he would stay here in Hawkins, with his family, with El. Will didn’t know how his priorities had changed, because Will knew his own priorities had shifted even though his plans hadn’t. Will had no idea how the same ending that had set him free might have changed the way Mike would feel tied down.
When the party had gone around in a circle while sitting at the table that carried some of their deepest memories, talking excitedly over each other about when they would all see each other again as successful adults, Will had come back to reality and nearly flatlined when Mike finally spoke his plans into the open air.
“Will and I will come see all of you as soon as we can.”
Will’s neck hurt from how quickly it snapped his head in Mike’s direction. They had never set anything in stone, and that was a big, BIG statement to make to the people who mattered most to them. What? Did that mean-?
“So, New York, then?” Dustin had asked lightly, tilting his hand up to his chin with a pondering expression. “Bold of you to think you’ll survive there.”
“Will is going to be there with me, I’ll be fine,” Mike had scoffed, said with all the confidence in the world. Like they had already agreed they would be together, in whatever form that took.
Will just… blinked. It didn’t work. So he blinked again.
Nope. Didn’t change what he just heard.
He openly gaped at Mike, and if anyone else noticed, they didn’t say anything. Mike’s deep, deep eyes started to swim with something befuddled, asking Will a question without any words. Will worked his jaw until it would open.
“Could I talk to you for a minute?” he had whispered hoarsely, not breaking eye contact.
Mike nodded easily and only jumped a little when Will grabbed his arm like the house was on fire. Will ignored the confused looks that he got from the party, and definitely ignored the one knowing stare he got from Max.
Will pulled Mike up the stairs by the elbow to talk this new tidbit of information over in the living room, away from everyone else who stayed blessedly in the basement. When Will let him go and Mike practically twirled to face him properly, Will’s concern had been met with an unbalanced confusion. Mike had looked… disoriented. Almost startled.
“Mike, you know you don’t have to decide on your plans right away, right?”
Will hoped he sounded soothing, reassuring somehow. Inside, he felt like someone was wrapping their hands around his ribs and squeezing.
Mike furrowed his eyebrows with the smallest hint of a pout, and Will had to bite his tongue to keep his hands to himself. Mike always looked so precious like that.
“We’re going to New York, right?” Mike had asked hesitantly, with that tilt of his head that always made Will’s knees take physical damage.
“I mean, I know we talked about it,” Will had huffed quietly, drumming his fingers against his elbow where his arms stayed crossed, a shield from whatever this meant. “But are you sure? We never actually confirmed anything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go just because I want you there with me.”
Will could remember how many times he had accidentally said ‘we’ instead of ‘I’ when telling stories of the things he wanted to do in New York. “We would have so many parks to choose from for walking, and I know we’ll find a way to bike everywhere-” “I’ve heard the food is so much better there, we’ll have to make a list of restaurants-” “When we go to school we’ll have to plan the best ways to spend our weekends-”
It hadn’t been fair to rope Mike into blueprints Will was supposed to be drawing for himself. He was sure there was something sparkling, pleading in his eyes when he said these things to Mike, something weak in his posture that screamed with how much he would give just to have Mike beside him. But Mike had always looked at him with fond eyes, nodding along with him with a slow smile that never really gave anything away. Like he was hiding something. Will had been sure it was reluctance, and he had to make sure Mike was allowed to voice that now.
Mike’s face screwed up in something like offense, and his angular jaw tightened before a wave of something passed over him. He slowly reached out to put his hand over Will’s, stopping the drumming.
“Will, I want to be where you are,” Mike insisted gently, and the furrow in his eyebrows didn’t leave, but it changed its message. His hand hadn’t moved. “I kind of can’t imagine a version of this where we aren’t together.”
Will’s breath hitched, and he froze.
Together.
Will flashed through memories of all the time they had spent together, repairing something that never should have been allowed to break in the first place, stretched thin by distance and choices they didn’t make. Mike had insisted on fixing Castle Byers with Will, and Will had laughed until tears sprang in his eyes when Mike got tangled in the blanket they were going to use to reinforce the roof and keep rain from getting through the cracks. It might not have been the best idea at the time, but they used what they had to distract themselves during the equivalent of their era’s apocalypse. They had shuffled next to each other in the Wheeler kitchen during meals, helping Karen with dinner enough times a week that she was used to delegating tasks to them, and Mike always offered Will the first plate with a small, shy glance, like a peace offering.
And Will had given back his kindness in the only way he knew how to, at least without just throwing words at him. Will started drawing for Mike again.
He bartered where he could to build his collection of paints and pencils to make meaningful works for him. A portrait of Holly, Mike, and Nancy sat close in the living room that Will had insisted on making to commemorate their time together as siblings. Mike had gone so far as to frame it, and when Will had said it was too much, Mike said it wasn’t enough. A painting of their bikes laid out side by side in the front yard while the sun set was taped up proudly on Mike’s wall, nearly blending in with the other pieces Will had made in the past, but pointedly there. A sketch of Mike’s side profile that Will had almost hidden out of embarrassment, but had made Mike do a giddy little dance when Will handed it to him, making it worth it as Mike set it right next to his typewriter on his desk. Mike had coveted every one and glared at anyone who so much as leaned in to get a better look. Everyone except Will, of course.
They had been fixing things. It had been enough that Mike wanted to be with him in their terrifying, exhilarating new phase of life.
Will’s smile curled onto his face almost without his permission, and Mike’s eyes got brighter.
“Yeah, alright,” Will sighed, feigning surrender. “And you’re positive? One hundred percent?”
Mike was nodding before Will could even finish the sentence, his dark curls bouncing on his head like they were resisting gravity itself.
“One hundred percent,” he parroted firmly, taking a step closer to Will so he could lower his voice. “Crazy together, right?”
All the air left Will’s lungs at once. Mike’s building habit of getting within centimeters of Will was amazing and horrible. How was he supposed to answer him if he couldn’t breathe? It was rude. Mike’s hand was still covering his fingers.
He found a way to deal.
“Yeah,” Will choked, voice wobbling as he shook the cobwebs from the corners of his brain and forced the lights to turn back on. Focus. “Crazy together.”
Mike beamed at him with a wattage that could power the damn house before he brushed past Will and bounded back down the stairs like it was his mission, turning over his shoulder to tease, “Are you coming, or do I need to carry you?”
Will groaned out loud and followed after him quickly, feet loud on the stairs.
“If anyone needs to be carried, it’s you,” Will fired back, but with no heat. “You’re stubborn and you don’t like physical activity.”
Mike scoffed at him, but he was smiling, something glinting in his eyes as Will smirked.
Before Mike could respond, Max’s voice floated toward them.
“Took you guys long enough,” she drawled sarcastically, but Will could see her grin even from a distance.
“Yes,” Jane echoed, dropping her head onto Max’s shoulder where she sat next to her on the couch now. “You were gone for a very long time.”
“We had to sort some things out together,” Mike answered simply with a shrug, plopping down on the floor.
Will sat next to him, and when they crossed their legs, their knees bumped and stayed pressed against each other. Mike’s eyes pulled up to meet Will’s, and it only took a split second for Mike’s expression to soften completely, changing, shifting before Will’s eyes. And Will wasn’t strong enough to not come tumbling after him, his gaze openly adoring in a way he didn’t think he was allowed to get away with.
Together. Such a big word that Will could never place the meaning of. And Mike said it like it was a forgone conclusion, like Mike himself had written it into existence and refused to let anyone challenge it.
Will spent so long grappling with what it meant that he thought he was an honorary member of the wrestling team. And someone should be blowing a whistle. There had to have been so many fouls committed between them at this point. Will didn’t know shit about sports, but he knew there were rules. He could use some of those right about now.
Because Will could recall so many things that had changed what that meant for him. At least in the context of Mike.
Mike came out as something decidedly not-straight in that same final hurrah with everyone, six months after he and Jane had broken up, right before they had departed on this journey into adulthood.
“So for the single people in the room,” Max had started casually, sending her gaze around the room to where Jane and Dustin were now sitting on the floor in front of the available seating instead of on it, murmuring quickly in hushed voices, and then to Will and Mike crammed next to each other despite the ample space on the worn retro carpet to be literally anywhere else. “What are the dating plans for the next step?”
Everyone’s heads turned up, and Lucas looked unfazed next to Max on the couch, idly running his fingers up and down her hand with the arm he had slung around her while no one else was paying attention. Will could see the way Jane’s eyes warmed at Max’s use of ‘next step’ instead of ‘college’, like she didn’t want to exclude her for a single syllable of a sentence. Max looked nonchalant, but it was very clearly deliberate.
“Oh, I’ll have a genius girlfriend by the end of the first week, I guarantee it,” Dustin joked enthusiastically, flashing a grin. “Maybe even two if I start looking early enough.”
Everyone laughed at that, and Will smiled, watching Jane’s shoulders shake at Dustin’s antics. Seeing her happy after everything had become one of his new favorite things. Feeling Mike do the same next to him as he pressed closer was on that same list, even if it made Will’s fingers forget they should not be reaching for Mike’s warmth more than he was already allowed to.
Jane cast her eyes down with a small smile, picking at the seam of her jeans with an intense focus before she chanced a look around the room.
“I want to focus on finding myself,” Jane declared, quiet but confident. “I think I want to be happy with someone else, but I did not have the chance to experience me first. I think I would like to do that now.”
Proud smiles spread like wildfire around the room, heads bobbing in affectionate nods. The people there knew better than anyone how much Jane had given up just by being born into the wrong circumstances with no control, and she was taking back that control by choosing herself. Will glanced over at Mike to search for hurt, frustration, any of the things he hoped he wouldn’t find and was only half sure he wouldn’t. Not because Mike was resentful or unkind, but because he blamed himself for getting in the way of what Jane was describing.
All Will saw was a radiant smile and respect in the lines of Mike’s face, the ones he had been memorizing since kindergarten. Real joy for the path Jane had decided on. It made the warmth in Will’s chest curl outward into those same fingers that didn’t want to keep to themselves. He wanted to share the warmth with Mike, but resisted.
Will supposed it was his turn as all eyes turned to him.
“We’ll see what happens,” he decided with a shrug, catching the looks of curiosity on all the faces he could see. All the ones except Mike’s, who he refused to look at, even though he felt his eyes burning into his cheeks, which caught fire under the heat. “There’ll be more people… like me in New York, but I want to focus on settling in first. Not opposed to it, but not at the top of the list.”
“I don’t know, Will,” Lucas starts, humor evident in the way he raises his eyebrows. “You seem to pull people in wherever you go. You might have a line waiting for you when you get there.”
Max laughs boisterously at that, throwing her head back against Lucas’s chest. “He’s not wrong, Will. You’re like a magnet.”
Will decidedly did not think about the fact that Mike was stuck to his side like glue, like gravity had pulled him there. If anything, Mike pushed himself closer at that comment, which Will couldn’t understand.
“Who wouldn’t like Will?” Mike asked almost accusingly, wrapping an arm around Will’s waist in a way that would be not platonic if Will hadn’t gotten used to his disregard for personal space months ago. Well, used to it in the way that it still sent his body spiraling like he had jumped out of a plane. “He’s smart, kind, and very handsome. The second he wants to date someone, he will. But if anyone tries to push it on him, they’ll have to go through me.”
Max choked at that, Jane’s eyes brightened, Dustin took his turn to laugh, and Lucas remained as steadfast in his composure as always. Will, meanwhile, was reeling on the inside.
Mike had been like this when they were kids. Watchful, sworn to protect Will from the dark spaces between the streetlights and the bears they read about in class next to each other. But in this period that Will still couldn’t pinpoint the start of, Mike had gone from being his guard dog to his devoted paladin. He layered that watchfulness with physical and verbal affection, swearing his loyalty through letters and statements and holding that he didn’t seem to recognize as holding. At the start, Will had jumped and felt his mind fizzing and popping. The second thing still happened, but he’d gotten better at suppressing the first one. Mike was still blunt in his delivery, if not more so than before, and that made it so much harder.
Max mouthing “Very handsome?” at him with the mischievous glint in her eyes that he knew too well prompted Will to glare at her and say something, lest he give himself away by being too quiet. Mike would notice.
Will cleared his throat and tried not to let his voice crack. “Thanks, Mike.”
Fuck. Not a successful mission. But then Mike tilted his head to smile warmly at Will, and the crack was forgotten in the brightness of Mike. Will swallowed hard, because Mike’s attention was too much at times, his beautiful brown eyes too clear, too open. Someone had to save him before he melted into a pile of goo.
“What about you then, Mr. Knight?” Max teased, crossing her arms while Lucas moved his gentle ministrations to the ends of her hair. “When you’re not defending Will’s honor, do you have any plans to find a maiden of your own?”
Will immediately noticed something was off when Mike froze next to him and then started fidgeting with the sleeves of his red sweater with both hands, loose and comfortable on him. Mike always got cold even though his body was so warm, and he found safety in his sweaters. And he was always a bit restless, always in some kind of motion, but not like Will was seeing now. Will found himself putting a hand on Mike’s bouncing knee where it almost smacked into his, which stilled it almost immediately. He caught Jane’s encouraging look from across the room, directed at Mike with a wide smile and supportive eyes. Something sliced through Mike’s discomfort and he spoke, shoulders coming up a little higher next to his ears.
“I’m actually not sure,” Mike admitted softly, like he didn’t really want anyone to hear, curling his shoulders over the knees he brought up to his chest, like he could make himself smaller. “I… I don’t know what I want in a girlfriend or… or maybe boyfriend.”
Mike shifted, dropping his head onto Will’s shoulder for comfort, and Will felt the ground fall out from under him.
“I don’t know what I am. I don’t think I’m gay? But our relationship wasn’t fair to you, Jane. I know that. So I guess I’ll figure it out.”
All the continents as Will knew them were placed wrong on the map. His world had been crafted in this image of what was real and what was pretend. Will was gay. Mike Wheeler was straight. The sky was blue. Apparent facts, clearly stated and written.
And they were wrong.
Will tried to hold on to the way Jane’s face was doing something kind, something warm, reassuring in its celebration of Mike telling them his lived truth, like they had already talked about this. Meanwhile, Will was mentally clearing the mess from the brick that had just been thrown straight through his forehead. He hoped he was still pulling off a similar look despite the fact that Mike wouldn’t be able to see him from where he snuggled into Will’s arm, and also despite the fact that Will was actively dying.
Mike had told Will about breaking up with Jane before he told the rest of the party, the same night it happened, slamming open his own door frantically and settling on his bed with the weight of someone who wouldn’t be getting up for a long time. Mike had opened by telling Will that he didn’t deserve Jane.
Mike had told him through tears and hiccups that it had been mutual, that he had felt awful for how not awful he felt about losing her as a girlfriend, but that he wanted them to be close friends the way they should have been from the start. How he felt broken for not feeling the way he was supposed to about her.
Will had joined him over the covers, pulling Mike into his chest and holding him while he stroked his hair and rocked him slowly back and forth, easing his sobs and self-inflicted blame. He shushed him and cooed that he had done the right thing, that it was alright to feel what he felt, and he didn’t choose it. He whispered about how kind and good Mike was, how Mike had said himself that they both decided on this, and they would still get to be happy as friends.
Mike continued to rant about how Jane had deserved better from him, and how she had told him that she ran into things with him too quickly, too. How they were kids who didn’t know any better and enjoyed each other’s company. How she wanted to know who she was as Jane and only Jane, and how grateful she was for the chance to have that. And Mike had felt relieved, not angry, not sad, not remorseful. He practically screamed that he should have felt sorry, wailed that he was an awful person. Will comforted him through all of it, insisting that Mike was the best person he knew. That nothing would ever make him bad, that he was allowed to feel things. He hadn’t hurt her, and they had been honest. They had done all they could do.
Mike hugged him then, so tightly Will couldn’t breathe, like he was trying to anchor Will to keep him from ever changing his mind and leaving. Will knew he would never do that, and he hugged Mike back just as tightly, embracing it for the plea that it was. To stay. To keep understanding. To hold what Mike didn’t ask to break. They had stayed like that for what felt like hours, and when Mike looked on the verge of collapse from the exhaustion, he had asked in the quietest voice for Will to keep holding him. It was the first night in their many nights of sleeping next to each other that they tangled together under the sheets, Mike’s head settled over Will’s jumping heart with his arms tightly wrapped around Will’s torso. Will hadn’t slept that well in years.
Mike had said so much then, so many confessions and fears. He had not said he might want a boyfriend someday.
Yes, Will understood that probably wouldn’t have been the right time, right after his monumental breakup, and it was selfish of him to expect that, even in hindsight. And it was definitely not the most important piece of information Mike had just shared. But to Will, this was world-ending. A rewriting of the laws Will had never imagined were written in the first place, as if they always existed as the truth.
“Wow, Wheeler,” Max mumbled seriously, following it up with an awed whistle, like words weren’t enough. “I’m impressed.”
She didn’t say it mockingly, as some might have expected. She was genuine, considerate almost, and Will suspected it was why he didn’t feel Mike tense further next to him at what could have been a disastrous joke if placed wrong.
Will knew exactly what Max was talking about. Mike wasn’t good at talking about his feelings, or his vulnerabilities. Showing them, sure. He was very animated, and he could never hide his facial expressions. But putting it to words he had to say out loud, laying it out for people to see? It was hard for him, because he had so much to protect. It was always his default. Will was dazed at this development. Mike pulled his head up, and Will mourned the loss.
“After almost dying a few times, it didn’t seem like a huge deal to tell you guys,” Mike confessed in a small voice, his beautiful lips reaching up just a little. “Will was brave enough to talk about it. And I trust all of you, so.”
A chorus of ‘aw’s erupted around the room and Dustin pumped his fists in the air with a triumphant cry, like he had made the leaderboard for the most important game. Being on Mike’s list of trustworthy people was worthy of that reaction. Will smiled at him and rubbed Mike’s shoulder hearteningly even though inside he was still finding his footing, feeling as Mike leaned into it and closed his eyes. He was gorgeous.
And then the questions came.
“So… do you just… not like girls, or?” Lucas asked carefully, like he had weighed the words before they came out. Will wasn’t surprised that he seemed the most grounded out of all of them in the face of the new information. Lucas’s only frame of reference for something like this was Will, and he was looking for an anchor, some way to help Mike place himself. His loyalty was first to the party, and second to whatever came after. He wanted to understand.
But Mike bristled. It was evidently the wrong thing to say, and his walls came up quickly. His hiding looked different than Will’s. It was a stress response, just like Will’s had been before he had taken it back from everything that hurt him. But Mike didn’t have the luxury of not being perceived. Will was quiet because he didn’t want to be noticed, while Mike’s face spoke honestly and loudly for him when his voice couldn’t, as if he couldn’t be quiet even when he was silent. Not for a lack of trying to talk, but because his feelings were bigger than the letters any words were made from. Mike was expressive and boisterous because it was the only way to be heard, and he was thorny and brisk because it was the only way to push people back out. Maybe categorization wasn’t what he needed. Maybe he didn’t understand yet either.
“No,” Mike had snipped, elbows coming to wrap around his legs, dropping his chin onto his knees and grinding his teeth together. He didn’t look at anyone. Just the floor. “I loved Jane. Still do. It’s just… different. I don’t know, it sounds stupid.”
Everyone had looked around the room with varying degrees of uncertainty then. Dustin’s face contorted like he was solving some kind of equation in his head (which he probably was). Max wrinkled her nose like she often did when Mike was the one talking, but this time it was more surprise than annoyance. Lucas just brought a hand to his chin and looked to the window like it would solve something. And El just kept smiling reassuringly at Mike, like she was proud of him.
And as Will watched Mike shrivel into himself, spine curling to make himself smaller, Will knew that Jane’s reaction was what he needed more than anything. Because this wasn’t the right response. It was probably leaving too many questions in his mind, this unsteady silence, and if Mike was a professional at anything, it was taking one possibility and splitting it into thousands until he could find the worst one to torture himself with. Overthinking was a talent of his that Will wished he had never had to learn to deal with.
Dustin had opened his mouth to speak, inevitably with a question, but Will cut him off, bringing his hand down from Mike’s shoulder to rub his back in soothing circles.
“Thank you so much for trusting us and telling us, Mike,” Will murmured warmly, smiling as brightly as he could when Mike’s head snapped in his direction with wide eyes. Will brought his hand up a bit, stroking up and down this time. “That couldn’t have been easy. You’re very brave.”
God, Will had hoped it didn’t sound patronizing. He meant every word of it, just like he had when he had handed Mike that painting and spoken on someone else’s behalf with words that he was meant to own.
While that had been in vain, this was not.
Will felt Mike’s spine straighten and relax under his hand. The corners of Mike’s mouth pulled until his grin crinkled his eyes, and he comfortably dropped his cheek onto his own waiting knees to keep his neck craned toward Will, the softest giggle coming from him. Jesus, he was cute.
Will remembered how Mike had circled back after he came out as gay, waiting until they were alone to pull him into a room where no one would interrupt them. How Mike had said in no uncertain terms that everyone loved him no matter what and anyone who gave him shit would have to answer to him. Mike had ran his hands up and down Will’s arms, keeping him stable when he had been so certain Mike would hate him. Proving that it was still allowed, still ok, and that nothing had changed in any way that would hurt them. Mike assured Will they were all lucky to have him and that nothing would change that. That was another time they had hugged like their lives depended on it, and Will cried like a baby in his hold with his face buried in Mike’s neck. He hoped he was offering Mike even a fraction of the comfort he experienced when Mike had taken his biggest fear and ripped it in half, promising that he would never reject Will without saying the words themselves.
Will swallowed that memory down and felt the double-time tempo his heart was keeping, reminding him once more that it should be getting paid for its overtime. And everyone else had stepped in to echo Will’s sentiment, even through their apparent bewilderment. Even as everyone else spoke to him, Mike’s eyes had stayed on Will, glowing and alive in the dim basement lighting.
Mike might not be straight, and that was perfectly fine. Good, even, if Mike thought it was good. Will was together with Mike on that, in solidarity. In support of Mike’s feelings and in their shared identity as something other than what was assumed to be the factory setting.
And he was together with Mike when they moved across state lines to become new people.
Their apartment had been transformed into their own den of safety, intentionally and unintentionally. From the moment they had popped the trunk lid closed on Mike’s beat-up sedan and Will’s mom had squeezed the life out of him for the last time, asking for the third time if they had everything they needed, they formulated and carried out plans to make the space theirs. Mike had paused their conversation to sing off-key to the staticky music playing through their radio occasionally, just to give their brains a break, but most of the long journey was spent plotting and charting for the most exciting change they had experienced together in years. They couldn’t get out of the car fast enough when they arrived a few hours before the sun was due to set, shoving past each other with boisterous laughter and rushing to find their landlord and retrieve their keys.
When they turned the lock for the first time and burst through the door, everything was completely still inside the apartment. They were able to afford a pre-furnished unit (thank goodness for government money). Everything was slightly worn down but durable, like it had been living life right alongside them for years. The open space was nearly swallowed by the furniture, cozy instead of cramped.
The overhead lights in the kitchen were intact, dangling over a little stove and the counter across from it. The refrigerator buzzed faintly in the space between. A circular table about big enough for two people to arm wrestle on took up the corner by a window. The living room was segmented off by the long, earthy brown couch that was only slightly discolored from its years of use. The TV sat steadfast directly across from it, lightly dusty, but nothing they couldn’t clean off. The loveseat next to it was strikingly yellow and lit up by another window to its right, and Will knew he would be drawing there often.
They both took it in with a sweeping gaze, and when their eyes met, both Mike and Will tore off toward the narrow hall to look at their rooms, situated opposite each other. Their luck had doubled when they had found a complex that had queen beds, and their rooms were fully equipped with tiny dressers, relatively sturdy desks, and beige walls that weren’t as bad as they could have been. It was all unfamiliar, but it felt right.
“Race you back to the car!” Mike had called from across the way, already thumping quickly back toward the door while Will scrambled to get up from where he had been sprawled across his new bed.
“Mike, you always cheat!”
As they had spent the next few days building their sanctuary, filling it with the pieces of their memories and present selves that made a house a home, Will remembered why they had always been so close. Mike was present, warm, and near in every way he could be.
They had spent their first night unpacking a very specific box labeled “TONIGHT” in thick block text drawn on by a black marker that was running out of ink. It had been filled to the brim with soft things – blankets, pillows, the most threadbare sweatshirts that mixed their smells together in a dizzying blend that made Will feel content. They had fumbled over each other and rushed to spread them out, stack them, and situate them until their blanket fort looked less like a mistake and more like a structure they had at least discussed beforehand.
They hadn’t even bothered changing out of their clothes from the day as Mike scrabbled around for the flashlight at the bottom of that box, and when he held it under his face to light up his profile while he made up stories about what college would look like for them, scary and sweet premonitions of their futures, all Will could do was laugh and smile at him as he settled onto his arms and fell asleep to the lull of his voice in the dark. Mike’s enthusiastic gesturing and dynamic tone somehow made Will feel like the apartment was already claimed and branded as theirs, dubbing it a place of refuge. The one point of light in the room, Mike, always Mike, had made him feel safe in this unfamiliar space.
They spent the next morning offloading everything else – the lamp Mike insisted helped him write better (and the matching one he got for Will) followed by his essential typewriter, Will’s art supplies that somehow kept tumbling out of their containers even though he could have sworn he secured them better, pictures and books and toothbrushes. The pen that Mike said was lucky that he somehow kept dropping on the floor and not noticing, so Will quietly picked it up for him and placed it on the counter, like it had never moved in the first place. When Will thought he could get away with it, he just watched Mike.
Yes. As unfortunate and obvious as it was, Will was still… what words could he use? Yearning? Pining? Deeply, grossly in love? None of them felt strong enough, or complicated enough, to capture what was happening in his mind. Yearning didn’t make you feel like your heart was trying out for the Olympics because a pretty boy with brown eyes had brushed his curls out of the way for you to see them. Pining didn’t make the air feel so thin that breathing was a challenge just because you could feel the warmth of someone next to you, someone who wasn’t even touching you. Love didn’t make you draw a smile so many times that you could pick out which of the teeth didn’t look right from a glance (yes, that one was bad, Will knew, believe him). And Mike always said things in a way that sent those feelings into overdrive without even trying.
Knowing that Mike wasn’t sure where he stood with his attractions only made the things he said more confusing. Was he intentionally flirting when he called Will handsome in front of all their friends? Was he even aware he almost gave Will a heart attack when he had said his eyes were perfect? Was he oblivious to the way that even insinuating Will was attractive was the most devastating yet important thing Will had ever heard in his life, coming from the man he loved more than anything?
But Will didn’t know what Mike wanted his love to look like. To anyone else, those could be confessions. But to Will, knowing they came from Mike, they were the agonizingly tender expressions of closeness Mike had grown comfortable showing to Will. They weren’t romance. Just authenticity. Will didn’t even know how Mike experienced love anymore, and maybe he never did. Maybe Mike didn’t, either. And that was okay, as long as it was for Mike.
Will had made a point of not pushing Mike about what he meant when he had said he loved Jane but somehow wasn’t fair to her by being in a relationship with her. Will believed him. Mike had absolutely loved Jane, it was apparent how much he cared for her. Will also knew that Mike wasn’t distraught when they broke up, either. Not over the breakup itself, even though he was appalled by his feelings about it. Did he feel bad for letting his relationship run its course? That was only human, and it happened to so many people. Ashamed that he wasn’t more upset about it ending? What about their relationship made Mike feel guilty, like it wasn’t right to be with Jane? What had he done that had evidently been an injustice to his sister?
Will was curious, mortifyingly so, but he would never ask. He figured if Mike wanted to talk about it, he would, and he hadn’t. It had to be painful enough for him to feel inadequate for Jane, which Will knew somewhere inside couldn’t be true. Mike couldn’t be inadequate for anyone. He was too passionate, strong, bright. Will couldn’t fathom it. But Mike was also certain of this somehow, and Will didn’t know why. He would never know unless Mike said something, because it was a wound he didn’t want to reopen when Mike had fought so hard to stitch it closed.
And Will couldn’t help but remember what Jane had said to him at the end of their party hangout, when it was just them standing outside the front door in the warm summer evening air.
“I want you to be happy, Will,” she started, cautious but firm as she put a hand on his shoulder. “Just give Mike time. He can be an idiot, but he is not unkind. He is going through many feelings. He will come to you with them. He will not shut you out. Let him feel.”
Will had blinked at her then, surprised. Jane was always more perceptive than anyone gave her credit for. Her watchful eye was the reason why all of them were alive and well, together, and Will honored that in the way he nodded, the way he prepared himself to carry her message forward, whatever it meant. He suspected she was warning him to be ready to give Mike space while he figured out his feelings and to listen without judgment when he opened up, which Will was more than happy to do if it would make things easier for him.
“I can do that,” Will affirmed, straightening his posture and pulling Jane into a hug. “I’ll help him.”
Jane smiled fondly at Will as she released him, continuing to hold his hands in hers.
“I know you will. He is very lucky to have you,” she insisted, squeezing his hands once before letting them go. “Although I am sure you would do anything for him.”
Will blushed at how candid and true that was. Jane really did know everything.
“Maybe not anything,” Will still protested, barely a grumble under his breath as he looked away.
“Your face is red,” Jane pointed out impishly, crossing her arms. “You only look this way about Mike. I think ‘anything’ is accurate.”
Will groaned and kept his face toward the sky, trying to hide what he could.
“You really are my sister,” Will sighed, reaching his arms out for another hug when he schooled his face into something somewhat normal. She hugged back again without hesitation.
“I am. And I want my brother to be happy.”
Will was still processing all of it, even when he and Mike had made their way to New York. He only got more confused the more Mike talked.
Mike had spoken about it generally, almost existentially, during their road trip in a gap between their dreams of the future. Will got glimpses of what it all meant in Mike’s hypothetical talks, never fully saying what he meant, but Will felt like he probably understood about as much as Mike did after hearing him speak candidly. It was clear Mike wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t know what he was when it came to his attractions. Will felt Mike’s frustration in the way he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, the way he huffed instead of breathing.
“I mean, who really knows what love is, anyway? Certainly not most people,” Mike had asserted, still taking turns safely while something dangerous lurked in his eyes. “People act like they have it all figured out, but I’m not sure any of us do.”
Will understood that. Both their parents had been examples of not understanding love. Rushing in before you fully knew what it could mean, settling for the result, or finding yourself somewhere you didn’t want to be because of it. If it was really even love in the first place. Mike wasn’t wrong about that. And he wasn’t wrong to speculate that it wasn’t a universal experience to love someone the same way everyone expected you to, something to be counted on as a consistent and deliberate reality. Will was living proof of that.
Will nodded along and listened, and it seemed like Mike was opening up more because of it. Will felt confident enough to make little comments of affirmation or questions to seek clarification, which seemed to spur Mike on, like he was more comfortable with someone who was hearing him and trying to solve the puzzle alongside him instead of being mad at him for taking the pieces out.
“The biggest problem with love is that people try to shove it into boxes when it existed without bounds before any of us came into existence,” Mike mused, some of the sharpness gone from his tone, replaced with a weary exasperation that wasn’t directed at Will. Like he had made this case before, maybe to himself.
Will hadn’t known what to say then. Mike had always been the poet between the two of them, and Will knew there was something right about what he was throwing so easily into the air between them, as if he wasn’t rewriting Will’s memory with every word. But he believed Mike, even when he didn’t fully comprehend what he was implying. He always believed Mike.
“I just worry that there’s something… wrong with me,” Mike had whispered somewhere near the middle of their drive, eyes not leaving the road. Will wished he had gloves to at least bring some circulation back to Mike’s freezing hands that looked like they might get fused with the steering wheel, with how tightly he held on.
Will really looked at him then. His defined cheekbones, the dark circles under his eyes that only looked beautiful on him, the wild curls on his head that never listened to what they were told. Mike should have looked fragile in his light sharpness, and he did look elegant in his lithe loveliness. But he didn’t look fragile. He looked strong, standing up to the time that tried to erode him, and hollowed out in places that tried to take more from him than he would allow. A symbol of his survival.
Mike had talked with Will about these fears with a sincerity Will hadn’t planned for, and in this car, he had only talked about them with Will. Will suspected it was because Will was the only other ‘outsider’ in this department – the only one who understood what it meant to be different in the way you loved someone. Will was going to comfort him if it was the last thing he did.
“Mike, there’s nothing wrong with you,” Will responded quickly, sliding down his seat a bit. “Different isn’t the same as wrong, and you don’t owe anyone anything. I know you’ll figure this out, and even if you don’t, it doesn’t change you. You don’t have to have all the answers. You’re still Mike. And I think you’re pretty great.”
Will watched Mike’s face light up, and Mike got a little shy in the way that sent a buzzing straight into Will’s stomach.
“Thanks, Will,” Mike managed quietly, grin tiny but hopeful in its lopsided glory. “I think I really needed to hear that.”
Mike reached a hand over and placed it over Will’s knee, squeezing gently. Will gulped and tried not to shudder at the contact, feeling his heart climb his throat to try to get its greedy eyes on Mike Wheeler in the flesh. This was another dizzying moment that made Will question what kind of closeness Mike was after with him. After all, Will was even more confused by what Mike did physically.
Mike had always gotten close to Will. Very close. In first grade, when Will had lost his first tooth, Mike had crowded into Will’s space and insisted Will let him see the gap in his smile, which he showed off happily. When they had gone ice skating for the first time, Mike had gripped Will’s arm the entire time they were there, no matter how many times Karen or Joyce insisted he needed to let Will skate on his own. Whether it was for Mike’s balance or Will’s safety was up for debate since they both slid about the same number of times. Mike had even cried once and clung to Will when Karen said Will couldn’t sleep over since they had school the next day, complaining that he didn’t want to be apart from Will and that he would even wake up extra early if Will was able to stay. Mike had kissed him on the cheek as a goodbye, right in front of his mom, and Will felt his face poof into a cloud of heat like he saw in the cartoons.
Even as teenagers, Mike chose to be close. He sat right next to Will even when all the other seats were available. He wrapped his arms around Will or laid his head on his shoulder like he had with the party right before they left for New York. He lingered behind Will when he worked on art, touched his hair when he talked about how much it had grown, and he even put his hands on Will’s face when he was really trying to get his attention. Will felt his body coming to life every time any of those things happened, begging him to seek more touch, to take, to want.
And Mike’s affection only got more frequent and torturous after the breakup with Jane, including now. It was like Will had passed some unspoken test and Mike had decided he could trust Will with everything, including all his little touches. Will savored all of them, reveled in them, but also felt the way his muscles twitched and wanted to give in every time Mike so much as looked at him. When he touched him, his whole body sang, but demanded more. It was a problem.
As they moved things into the apartment, Mike would skim his hands up and down Will’s back and ask if his muscles were hurting. Will stood at attention and tried to ignore the tingles left in the wake of Mike’s hands, voice unsteady as he insisted he was just fine. Mike hooked his chin over Will’s shoulder when he admired the setup of his new room, beautiful in its simplicity. Mike’s hair tickling his ear made the alarm bells ringing in Will’s brain thunder just as loud in his chest, demanding that Will reach out and touch, feel. He resisted, but it only got harder when Mike tilted his head to look at the art on Will’s walls, lips almost skimming the sensitive skin of his neck. He wasn’t going to survive this if Mike was going to be this close all the time, but he couldn’t stand the idea of pushing him away. So he let him stay, even as his hands came to rest on Will’s sides to keep himself anchored there. Will’s breath hitched and he hoped it wasn’t painfully obvious to Mike.
Will used to think about snowballs all the time until he realized they melted long before the California sun burned them away. Knowing that Mike was trying to frame his definition of love by taking the boundaries placed on it and stepping outside of them, Will couldn’t be sure whether they had or hadn’t existed. The tables had turned. Mike was suddenly getting comfortable with his new identity while Will tried to grapple with where he fell in the vast, unnamed expanse Mike was still mapping and labeling. Mike was starting to understand, and Will never felt more lost. But it was worth it to watch Mike figure it out.
Mike’s tendency to lash out in self-defense always resulted from him not understanding. When he didn’t know if people were antagonizing him or trying to solve problems from the same side. Their arguments had dwindled when Will started to explain the thinking behind his actions instead of just acting, and Mike would understand. They were a team, a party, and when Mike realized Will was never trying to turn anything against him, he shifted. Mike could still be snappy with others when he was left in the dark, but he was always soft with Will. If anything, he was gentler and more protective now that it was all clear to him. Maybe this self-discovery would take some of that general defensiveness away for him, and Mike would be able to put the armor down, if only for a minute.
So that was where everything left them as Will walked around their newfound local grocery store in a haze, slowly pushing the cart around in a zig-zag because one of the wheels was jammed. They were both starting classes at NYU in the upcoming week and had decided it was essential to get as many errands done as possible before they were buried in assignments.
Mike was bouncing from aisle to aisle, chattering about the things they needed to make sure their meals were the best they could possibly be to celebrate their new home, even though they were both already holding copies of the list they had painstakingly made after everything was unpacked. Will’s shoes scuffed on the tile, dragging as his thoughts swirled around him and funneled down the drain. Will just kept an eye on Mike as he blurred in and out, trailing behind him as Mike dumped item after item that was very noticeably not on the list into the cart.
“Mike, I appreciate the thought, but we really don’t need to get Reese’s pieces right now,” Will recommended softly, trying to be encouraging. “Let’s focus on getting together some good options for the next few days. We want to make sure we have real food first.”
Mike whipped around from his spot in front of the cereal section, and Will could see the puppy dog eyes from a mile away. Will stopped abruptly and gulped, feeling the way his throat struggled to do anything other than say words that would give in to whatever Mike wanted.
“But Will,” Mike griped, his whole body gesturing to make his point. “They’re your favorite! It’s not ours if it doesn’t have your favorite things in it. And we would just get them later anyway. Please, can we get them? Could you get them for me?”
Fuck.
Will’s heart responded before his brain could even put up a fight.
“Alright,” Will sighed, and it should have been exasperated, but it came out too fond, betraying the swooping tenderness that was traveling inside him and taking over everything it touched. “Thank you, Mike.”
And Mike was luminous in the fluorescent lighting, grinning at Will the same way he did when his mom gave him the keys to his car on his eighteenth birthday. Will had been there, watching the way Mike babbled about all the ways it spelled freedom for them.
After a few more laps around the store, complete with snacks and dessert they hadn’t planned for (at least, Will hadn’t), they dropped their haul in front of a tired cashier, passed their bills over, and lugged everything to their car.
“You ready to eat?” Mike asked through a strained groan, the heavier bags making their way into the back of the sedan. Will had tried to take them, but Mike snatched them faster than Will could blink.
“Definitely,” Will drawled flatly, a smirk making its way onto his face. “We have more options than we intended, so it’ll be fun to choose.”
Will could practically hear Mike grinning beside him as Mike bumped his shoulder into him with a triumphant laugh.
“See? Fun! We deserve fun,” he declared cheerfully, pulling the trunk shut as they made their way around the car and jumped in. Mike started the engine. “I know I went a bit overboard, so thanks. But we needed all those things.”
“We made a list, Mike,” Will countered, amused. He raised an eyebrow. “Did we really need three kinds of cheese?”
Mike puffed some air into the curls on his forehead, eyes set stubbornly on the road as he pulled out and started them down the road.
“Uh, yeah?” he continued, unmoved as Will grinned boyishly at the way Mike’s nose scrunching changed the space between his freckles. “You like cheese a lot. What if you want a different one and can’t have it? Should have gotten five, really.”
Will snorted, and Mike looked like he was trying to catch his own smile before it split across his face, but he wasn’t fast enough.
“You know, I feel like you’re putting this on me so I’ll let it slide,” Will mused thoughtfully, letting his gaze slide over the way Mike’s posture changed.
Mike’s mouth twitched and his elbows pulled closer into his body.
“… Is it working?” he squeaked, and Will’s body erupted with the need to coo at him, to tell him how cute he was, how sweet, how kind for thinking of him, because that was ultimately what this was. Care wrapped in jokes to make the delivery easier for Mike, all but standing in front of Will saying “This is for you, hope you like it”. Will was fucked.
“Yes, Mike, it’s working,” Will somehow managed to concede evenly. He would settle for half-truths so his effort to bottle it up wouldn’t lead to an explosion when he wasn’t strong enough to hold it all inside. Letting some steam out to relieve the pressure inside. “It’s very sweet that you thought of me.”
Mike didn’t hesitate for a second.
“I’m always thinking of you, Will.”
And Will’s inhale decidedly went down the wrong pipe, because what the hell. Will turned his face to look out the passenger window, the sweetness of what Mike said trickling down from his brain into his veins and through everything it could reach, sending everything into a frenzy. How could he say it so easily?
Will cleared his throat, feeling Mike’s eyes on him, waiting for a response.
“I’m always thinking of you, too,” Will wheezed, summoning up the strength to look back at Mike, the yellow of his long-sleeved shirt making him look brighter.
Mike didn’t say anything else, but he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in a rhythm that matched the radio with the biggest grin on his face, and his cheeks turned pink, staining like watercolors. Holy shit, Will wanted to paint him. Or sketch him. Or kiss him. All three, probably, starting with the last one. He had to look at something else, or he would reach across the center console and ruin his own composure.
Will swallowed again and watched through the windshield as Mike navigated the heavy traffic and bright lights of the New York evening, smoke from the streets curling up toward the sky and people bustling about in the hot, humid air of August. None of it could distract him from what Mike said.
I’m always thinking of you, Will.
Will put a hand over his mouth and leaned his elbow into the passenger door, trying to suppress the woozy elation that was rising steadily from his toes. He would be hearing that on loop in his head for the next few weeks. He had only spent two days living with Mike Wheeler, and he was already reeling. And Mike was completely unaware of the way Will’s face burned as he hummed and swayed, pulling them up to their apartment complex without a care in the world. Shit.
They made their way inside quickly, and Mike had insisted on taking the heavier bags again, despite Will’s protests. He looked proud when Will turned the key and Mike heaved them up onto the counter to be unloaded into their fridge. Will followed soon after and dropped his bags next to Mike’s, nudging Mike with his elbow to get his attention.
“Do you want stir fry?” Will asked gently, pulling out the soy sauce, one of the only sauces Mike could stand.
“Mhm,” Mike responded absentmindedly, already moving to pull out their newly acquired vegetables so they could get started.
Will was the only one who was able to convince Mike that vegetables weren’t poisonous when they were kids. He had said broccoli made him feel like he was eating baby trees and it made him sad, and he said asparagus just tasted gross. Karen had tried for years to get him to try various colorful, flavorful foods, and the only one that really stuck was carrots.
Until Will.
When Mike watched Will eat meals with them, happily munching on the tiny trees and the asparagus, it was as if Will had given him permission to enjoy them, and he would eat them, too. During those eighteen months and beyond in the Wheeler household, Karen had gotten more adventurous with her cooking, and Mike had eaten it alongside Will every single time. One night, when Will had made it to the kitchen before Mike had, Karen had squeezed her hands on his shoulders and thanked him so many times that he couldn’t find a gap to respond before Mike came tumbling in after him, and she pretended that nothing had happened. Will was happy to be the reason why Mike ate healthier, especially if it meant he got more years with him.
Those cooking sessions with Karen had paid off for them, too. Mike prepared the vegetables while Will got the sauce together, moving around each other even in this new space with the ease they had developed over their time together. Mike would ask where they had put something in the kitchen, and Will would already be handing it to him. Will would wordlessly offer something for Mike to taste, and he wouldn’t break the stride of his task as he took it into his mouth and hummed his approval.
The sound of sizzling oil and the smell of the fragrant sauce floated around them as Will stirred the vegetables and watched the time, Mike coming up behind him to watch it cook. He was close, but not touching Will, and it was distracting, but Will didn’t usher him away. Mike pulled out the plates and utensils and set up what he could at their tiny table.
When the food was done and dished out, Mike still gave Will the first plate with that same shy, tentative look. Will wanted to drop to the floor and propose right there. Instead, he forced himself to smile back, gave Mike a soft, “thank you” that made his eyes light up, and convinced his weightless feet to move toward the table.
When they both settled into their seats, the chairs were packed so close together that their knees knocked under the table, but neither of them moved or complained. Their forks clinked as they ate quietly together, tired from a long day, but as close as they always were.
Mike glanced up and their eyes caught. Will stopped chewing with how intensely his brown eyes were looking into him, reading something he couldn’t see. Had Will dropped food on the collar of his t-shirt? Was there something in his teeth? Did he look stupid or something?
“Well, shit,” Mike started, frustrated as he reached across the table, fingers outstretched. “We forgot napkins. Sorry, Will.”
And just like that, without any preamble, Mike brushed his thumb right next to Will’s lips, evidently clearing some errant sauce for him in a move that had Will blinking rapidly, trying to factory reset his brain that had officially gone offline. It only got worse when Mike licked the sauce off his finger, like some kind of souvenir for his good deed. Will swallowed water down greedily, trying to put out the fires it set off in the gaps in his joints, in the very fibers that held him together.
“Are you alright?” Mike asked obliviously, genuine worry present in the higher lilt of his tone. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”
Will was used to letting things like this slide. Mike’s comfort with being that close was probably the same reason why he hadn’t figured out Will’s feelings yet, not from what Will could tell, so he couldn’t complain too much. This was the tax he paid on keeping that quiet, and he would pay it, even if it drove him nuts from time to time. He loved it even though he floundered every time.
“No, it’s okay,” Will assured him quickly, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, forgetting his decorum in favor of keeping himself together. “I appreciate it. You just surprised me.”
“I’ll warn you next time,” Mike promised quietly, fiddling with his cup with his fingers that wouldn’t keep still, his curls falling into his eyes as his head ducked down. “I wanted to help, and I didn’t think. I need to be more respectful of your space.”
Will could feel the real question sitting below what he said. He was asking if he was too much. If it wasn’t right to be that close now that Will knew Mike’s understanding of boundaries was blurry. Mike was nothing if not helpful, and since his internal lines that kept things separated were in such flux, this had to be hard for him. Will had to guide him. Will ignored the jitters he felt over the implied next time and jumped into action.
“Mike, I promise, you are more than fine,” Will implored gingerly, reaching across the table to put a hand over Mike’s, which succeeded in catching his attention. “Asking people for permission is a good principle to have, in general. You’re allowed to touch me. We’ve always been close like that, and I don’t want you to think anything that’s happened changes that. You’re allowed in my space. I want you in my space. If you aren’t sure about something, just ask. If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you to stop. I don’t want you to be afraid of it.”
Mike’s Bambi eyes widened and Will watched the tension leave his jaw, slowly melting into a glowing contentedness that relaxed him. His smile was adorable as he pushed his food around his plate.
“How do you always say the right thing?” Mike laughed, awed, squeezing the ends of Will’s fingertips that were still wrapped over the top of his hand. “You’re so good at that. I don’t know how I would have ever gotten through life without you.”
Will decided to take the humorous route because it seemed like what Mike needed in the moment. It meant normalcy.
“Well, I think my wisdom kept you out of plenty of fights when we were kids, so you probably would have had a lot more suspensions on your record if it weren’t for me,” Will mused, looking up to the ceiling like it was projecting the memories.
Mike gasped and brought his free hand to his chest, dramatically offended.
“I didn’t try to start that many fights!” Mike argued defensively, now waving that same hand in the air, refusing to move the other from under Will’s grasp.
“Oh, no?” Will started smugly, ticking instances off on his fingers. “You tried to punch that one kid on the playground because he tried to cut in front of me on the monkey bars.”
Mike wrinkled his nose.
“You almost took Logan down because he said D&D was stupid.”
Mike’s hold on Will tightened.
“Well, those were both fair-” Mike interjected, feigning calm.
“Mike, I think you literally shoved Trenton down on the grass because he tried to kiss me when he still thought I was a girl. And those aren’t counting the ones I did manage to stop you from starting. I have more.”
Mike froze at that one. Will watched him bite his lip and thump his head down on the table, groaning as his blush colored the tips of his ears red, where it usually started.
“Will,” Mike protested. “I was defending you! I have to get some credit for that!”
Mike pulled his head up with a drawn-out sigh, and he was barely holding together his glare as Will looked on with a raised brow, waiting for Mike to concede. And he did.
“But yes, I think I would have had a lot more early trips home to explain to my mom without you,” Mike grumbled, kicking Will lightly under the table. “But I was fighting for you, most of the time.”
Will kicked him back, a breathy giggle escaping him.
“And you do get credit for that,” Will agreed affectionately. “Thank you for always being my protector.”
Mike bashfully traced his foot back over the floor, finally pulling his hand out from under Will’s to fiddle with his own fingers nervously.
“It was the least I could do for my favorite person,” Mike acknowledged, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Will laughed again, but this time it was more disbelief, astonishment at how candid Mike could be. He had been like this when he was younger, and it had disappeared one day, only to come back ten times stronger now.
“It amazes me how good you are at just saying nice things like that,” Will confessed, and it felt like an unspoken agreement to exchange a secret, a compliment. Mike looked surprised. “You’re so talented at putting words together.”
Mike shrugged, but there was something more behind it that Will didn’t fully understand in the way Mike looked away just to bring his eyes back to Will’s, that intensity still there.
“Like I said, getting that close to death kind of changed things for me,” Mike explained openly, rolling his pointer finger with his fingers on the opposite hand. “You’re the one who saved me from that Demogorgon, too. I don’t want you to not know nice things if I can tell them to you. If I don’t, it’s because I can’t seem to find the right words.”
Will mulled this over, and it made sense. When Mike struggled, it wasn’t because he was fighting the words he already had. It was because the words were fighting him. And Mike was still choosing to reach for them anyway. It was brave, just like everything else he did.
“It means a lot to me,” Will whispered, barely audible, like he was afraid to say it. “So thank you for that. I’ll try to say more nice things to you, too.”
Mike waved his hand, dismissive, and Will tilted his head.
“You already say plenty of nice things to me, Will. And all of them mean everything.”
Mike didn’t even give Will a chance to respond before he was scraping his chair across the floor and taking their dishes to the sink, leaving Will to think about the gravity of that statement, pressing his knees together while he tried to steady them.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Mike questioned over the rush of the running sink, scrubbing the plates clean. “I feel like we deserve a break after running ragged these past few days.”
Will gave himself a second to catch up before responding, his thoughts still lagging behind.
“Yeah, yeah.”
He pushed up and out of his seat.
“Don’t you want me to help with the dishes?” Will asked, but Mike stopped him before he could step any closer.
“Nah, you should go look through our tapes and pick the movie,” Mike told him, jutting his chin toward their little living room. “You can do the dishes tomorrow if you’re fast enough.”
Will scoffed, crossing his arms, but he made his way toward the TV.
“We both know I’m faster than you now, Mike,” Will called as he passed him, crossing the carpet and falling to his knees to look through their options, skimming his fingers over the titles to read them quickly.
“Not this time!” he shot back with a cackle, and Will rolled his eyes, but it was loving, like it always was. Even his attempts at annoyance were acts of devotion. “Let me know when you found a good one.”
Will’s hand stopped when he came across the film Mike had been watching on repeat since the summer had started. Back to the Future Part II. Will knew, he knew, that the second Mike saw it, he would press them into watching it again. Will loved Mike more than anything, he really did, and he would watch the damn thing until it couldn’t play anymore if Mike asked him to. The problem wasn’t even the movie itself.
The problem was the fact that Will had seen the movie so many times now that he could get distracted. Too easily distracted.
Mike seemed to be in a new habit of seeing how much closer he could get to Will with each movie. His head could end up in Will’s lap. His hand might lay on Will’s calf, absentminded and natural, while Will felt the hearts bubbling up and out of his head into the air where he was sure Mike could see them. If Will couldn’t pay attention to the movie, all he would think about was Mike. Mike’s warmth, his skin, his touch, and the want would come back in rolling waves until it drowned him, when he had spent so long getting it under control. One of these days, he was going to crack, and he wasn’t willing to wait to find out which day that would be.
Which was why Will was taking the tape and getting ready to shove it behind the cabinet the TV rested on. Not gone forever, just for long enough that Will could give himself one night to adjust.
“What are you doing?”
Will jumped so suddenly that he almost dropped the tape, catching it again between three fingers as he spun around to face Mike. Shit. Too slow for a second time that day.
“Nothing”, he lied innocently, trying to subtly pull the movie behind his back.
Mike’s eyes narrowed and a small, knowing smirk pulled up the corners of his mouth. Will gulped. That look on Mike’s face never meant good things for him.
“Were you-” Mike started incredulously, cutting himself off with a disbelieving laugh before he tried again. “Were you hiding Back to the Future Part II?”
The way Mike said it made it sound silly, and Will was suddenly embarrassed. Mike looked so amused, settling his weight on one hip and staring down at Will on the floor. Will used a hand to shove his longer hair out of his face, trying to dissipate some of the heat gathering there.
“…No?” Will tried uncertainly, knowing it was going to sound like a lie the second it came out of his mouth.
Mike chuckled and it woke up the butterflies in Will’s stomach, fluttering rapidly while Will gripped the tape tighter behind his back. Mike held out a hand and gestured for Will to hand it over. Will wanted to just grab that hand and hold onto it forever. When Mike looked mischievous like this, it was even harder to stand his ground and hold on.
“Come on, give it,” Mike urged, entertainment dancing in his eyes.
Will shook his head rapidly.
“We’re not watching it again,” Will retorted, firmly but not unkindly, shifting his position so he could further block the tape from view. “We watched it five times last week. We can watch something else.”
“It’s the best sequel in history!” Mike complained, stepping closer to Will and settling next to him on the carpet, trying to swipe it from him. “We keep watching it because it’s good, come on, Will.”
Will kept holding it out of Mike’s range. When he went high, Will went low. When he stretched left, Will swept right.
“No,” Will responded sweetly, just to watch Mike’s eyes squint at him again as his lips squished together. Will felt he was doing a pretty good job at hiding the way his heart was hammering with Mike in range as he kept changing positions, reaching across his lap, almost colliding with his shoulder, straddling his legs with his arms.
“You leave me no choice,” Mike sighed gravely, rolling his shoulders and giving Will a pair of sad, deep eyes directed straight into his soul.
Before Will could even ask what that meant, Mike was tackling him into the ground with what little leverage he had on the floor, reaching his longer arms up to try (and fail) to grab the coveted movie from Will’s clutches.
“You can’t have it, Mike!” Will laughed boisterously, casting his arms out as high up as he could while Mike tried to climb over him, holding him flat on the ground while Will held back his waist with a knee to the stomach that he made sure not to press too hard. “You’re obsessed, you can watch something else for one night!”
Mike huffed and wrestled his arms around Will’s torso, trying to tug him down so he could pull on his elbows and bring the object in his sights back in range. The lighting from the kitchen wasn’t enough to give him a completely clear view in the dark of their living room, and Will used that to his advantage by repeatedly shifting his position to disorient Mike. Will wouldn’t let him take the movie.
“Bold of you to assume I don’t have other tactics,” Mike warned lowly, which made Will shiver.
“You’re not-”
Will inhaled sharply when Mike started tickling his sides, fingers moving quickly but lightly over Will’s white t-shirt, like he knew exactly where to push to get a reaction.
And he did.
Will immediately started squirming and muffling his giggles, but he stood firm in holding Back to the Future Part II out of reach. Mike was adorable like this, determined with all the lines in his face set and his lips pursed like he was focusing. But if they put this movie on, Will was going to drown in his feelings, and he had spent enough time doing that for a whole lifetime. He was fighting for a lifeline.
“You’re going to give it to me, Will,” Mike promised, voice deep and scratchy from where he pinned Will down. Will chose not to focus on how that sounded coming from Mike, and what it could have meant in other circumstances. Will knew it was a joke, that the second Will showed even a smidge of discomfort, Mike would get off. But the awful, horny part of him didn’t want Mike to ever move.
“No!” Will squealed, wriggling as much as he could to dislodge Mike’s hold, but it only got worse when Mike’s hands slipped under his shirt to do more damage.
Will’s knee faltered against Mike’s stomach at the touch, but not by much, and Mike used the opportunity to lunge forward as much as he could. Will was caught in the horrible position of reaching higher up and bringing his shirt up with him for Mike to have free rein, or dropping his arms to defend himself to stop Mike’s ongoing tickling, which was getting more intense. The pressure was everywhere. Will could feel Mike’s warmth through his jeans-clad knee, Mike’s legs bracketing his from where he struggled to reach up for Will, every fingertip brushing and digging into his sides. Will caught a glimpse of his shining eyes, his pale, flawless skin stretched around a grin, his alluring hands disappearing to torture him. Will had to keep it together. This movie would only be a worse punishment after everything that had happened.
“Give in, Will!” Mike sang playfully, slowing his motions as he reared back, ready to pounce like a cat. “You know you want to!”
A perfectly imperfect sequence of events threw everything off-kilter. Mike’s meandering hands dragged just purposefully enough across the lower skin of Will’s sides, lighting up nerve endings Will didn’t know he had, zinging directly to the part of his brain that wanted more, more, more. Will’s body locked up, and he dropped the tape unceremoniously above his head, bringing his hands down quickly to catch Mike’s arms.
That was when it happened.
Will moaned.