Chapter Text
April 10th 1990 11:30 PM
The hum of the party still buzzes in Will’s ears, despite his lucky escape, managing to slip away unnoticed. Letting out a mild groan at the pounding in his skull, Will seriously regrets that stupid , peer-pressured decision to gulp down (a limit of) two shots. Sure, call him a light-weight, but he couldn’t care less right now.
Footsteps echo softly in the fluorescent-lit corridor lined with dorm rooms, and Will’s pretty sure they put those lights there just to punish him for giving in to his art friends’ complaints about him never wanting to go out. The music, the laughter, the forced conversations—it’s all so much , and he seriously doesn’t get why more people don’t just adopt his approach: staying in and probably chatting with Mike as they whittle away their life savings on new Gameboy cartridges.
That is, if Mike’s not busy , which is becoming an unwelcome certainty these days. Will mentally scolds his unfiltered thoughts, reminding himself to crash into bed when he gets home.
Will walks a few steps to round the corner, and—speak of the devil.
Leah Prescott, a.k.a. the source of Mike Wheeler’s busyness and Will’s recent self-pitying attitude, is walking straight out of the dorm he and Mike share. In his unfiltered haze, Will has to refrain from rolling his eyes.
Jesus , he thinks to himself. He’s always known he’s had some buried resentment for her, despite telling himself that Mike is completely, totally allowed to have a girlfriend, even if that girlfriend is literally everything that Mike used to complain about. In all honesty, now that he’s dating a sorority girl, he doesn’t often paint her in a positive light. But he doesn’t paint her in a negative light either. In other words, Mike doesn’t talk much about her to Will at all. So, he can’t blame Will for having not much of an opinion of her.
Things like that make Will think Mike actually does pity him—and not just for being gay, but for the whole nine yards. Not a day goes by without Will questioning whether the big, bad, beautiful monster of his love for Mike is glaringly obvious to the man in question. But he still has some faith that Mike would be kind enough to consider that whilst kissing her in front of him, so. Yeah, it’s okay.
The door swings shut behind Leah with a hard bang, and Will figures he should say hey, of course. That’s what he always does. She’s pretty nice, even if that niceness feels a little fake. Even if she harps on about Will maybe being her ‘gay best friend’, and then barely takes notice of him when he’s in the room. Again, it’s okay .
He tries what he hopes is a friendly smile, but Leah doesn’t seem to notice him at all, too busy staring unfocused at the floor as she walks quickly. The slight hiss of breath she lets out is audible, even from where Will is. They’re getting closer, and when they pass each other, Will fumbles and slows down, watching as Leah shakes her head.
She continues past him, Will going completely unnoticed. But he still catches her muttering something under her breath: “Asshole.”
Will’s eyebrows shoot up and he stops, watching as Leah continues down the corridor and rounds the corner, now out of sight. Huh .
Turning his head back around, Will stares at the door she walked out of. Definitely his own dorm room, not some other “asshole”’s. For a second, he thinks she meant him, and that her murmuring had been directed at the guy simply walking down the corridor with a slight sway in his step. But Will licks his lips and walks over to his dorm room entrance.
Nervous energy pulls at Will’s limbs, a weird sensation bubbling in his stomach. Something is seriously off. Will swears he’s not imagining the dreadful energy coming from his dorm room right now. He’s no stranger to knowing that Mike has fought with any previous girlfriends, but Will’s never dealt with the aftermath this soon. Usually, Mike confides in him an hour or so, maybe a day, later. Not right away.
Will tries to shake the drunken energy off, reaching for the door handle. Wait. Should he knock or just burst in like nothing happened?
In his dilemma, Will’s hand clenches and unclenches, electrical charges of apprehension jolting through his hand until he finally surges forward and pushes the door open. In the couple of seconds between being outside and inside, Will’s mind races. He has to look casual, as if he hasn’t been overthinking this way too much, as if he has some idea of what to do if Mike is angry. What if their fight has something to do with Will? What if—
No time to think. Will keeps himself nonchalant, looking down at the floor as he unzips his jacket and says cheerily, “Hey, sorry I’m kinda early, the party was really—ugh, just so…”
After placing his coat on the hook, Will dares a glance over to Mike’s half of the room, finding a lump in the single bed, covered with Mike’s duvet plus his comforting Nintendo blanket, which he only ever really uses on occasion. Shit.
From where Will is standing, he can only see Mike’s wavy hair poking out from under the layers. He’s lying on his side, face hidden. Will frowns, hesitantly stepping closer after slipping off his shoes.
“Mike?” he says, suddenly feeling like his voice is foreign, far away. “You…okay?”
Mike shifts slightly, probably just getting comfortable. Surely he can’t be pretending to be asleep after he just told Will the door was open, right? Will’s about to sigh and open his mouth to ask again when a sound finally comes from Mike, albeit muffled.
“Yeah,” is all he says. From what Will can make out, Mike’s tone is a little shaky, or maybe that’s just his imagination.
The words feel like they’re being ripped from him, each one taking a great deal of effort. “Oh—um, are you sure?” Will asks gently, taking a step closer until he feels like he’s towering over Mike a bit too much. “It’s just, you seem…upset—”
“I’m tired, Will,” Mike forces out, still facing away. Will’s heart clenches, knowing there’s no way out of this that isn’t going to be kind of awkward. Things must be really bad for Mike to lie like this.
“C-come on,” Will tries, putting a hand out before quickly rescinding it when his brain screams at him to curb his instinct to comfort Mike. He sighs, chewing on his lip as he looks around the room. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, nothing to elicit concern of an argument or something worse.
“Um, well, I saw Leah…out in the hall,” Will says cautiously, wincing at the silence that follows. “She seemed, like, mad or whatever. Uh, did—did something happen between you guys?”
Why did he ask that? If Mike doesn’t want to tell him anything, he has the right not to, even if it makes Will die a little on the inside.
Mike seems to take a deep breath, the lump rising and falling heavily. “I… I guess,” he sighs, abruptly lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He sniffles wetly, the sound aching Will’s bones. The light is dim in their room, only illuminated by the gentle, orange glow of Will’s himalayan salt lamp on his bedside table, which he probably shouldn’t have left on for so long. It’s slightly frustrating, only being able to see Mike’s hunched silhouette, so Will reaches for Mike’s lamp and switches it on.
Almost instantly, as Mike squints at the sudden light, it illuminates the tear streaks tracking down his cheeks.
Will’s heart twists, wishing he had any idea of what to do in this situation. He’s rarely seen Mike cry, and when he has, it’s always been because of an injury or something unexplained. Will’s not cut out for this, but he takes a deep breath and watches as Mike tilts his face away, hiding.
“ Mike ,” Will breathes, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s easy to do; Mike’s legs seem to be curled up so he’s in a fetal position. Usually, he would wait for permission, but this situation warrants concern. “Hey…”
“What?” Mike’s voice is noticeably weak, cracking at the edges. He tries to sniff quietly, but Will can’t help but hear. Watching carefully, Will sees some movement under the sheets, like Mike is nervously fiddling with the blankets. A small part of him—that’s an understatement—wants more than anything to hold the guy tightly in his arms and tell him it’ll all be okay.
Will squeezes his eyes shut for a second to rid himself of the fantasy and puts on his gentlest tone. “You’re crying, that’s what,” he whispers, his heart jumping when Mike sighs and lifts himself upright. Now that he’s much closer, Will can see the extent of Mike’s unhappiness, his breath catching at the blood-shot eyes, his paler skin and how much he’s shaking .
Jesus Christ, what did Leah actually do? Will scans him, feeling a bit exposed as Mike stares at him with a heartbreaking gaze, noticing how Mike’s hands tremble in his lap. A protective surge suddenly overcomes Will, and he wonders what it would be like to march back up to Leah and demand to know what the hell she did to make Mike so uncharacteristically shaken up.
Mike’s still not saying anything, though he sure looks like he wants to. He grabs the blanket from underneath him and wraps it around his shoulders, making it even harder for Will to resist tucking his arms around him. It’s not fair.
“Mike, seriously,” Will lowers his voice, shifting closer with crossed legs until his knee barely touches Mike’s. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”
Breaking the gaze, Mike looks down and shrugs a little. Will wants to scream and sob at the same time. He really does look utterly broken, his eyelids fluttering as he makes the motions of a man trying not to speak for fear of crying. But that only lasts a moment before Mike opens his mouth.
“We uh…we tried—” Mike cuts himself off and quickly shakes his head. “We had this bad argument.”
Will frowns. He’d understand Mike being upset about that, but he’s had plenty of arguments with girlfriends, and he’s never reacted like this. Someone must have said something that hit a nerve. For a second, Will considers everything Mike is sensitive about.
“What about?”
Mike shrugs again, mumbling, “She was annoyed at me for…well, I mean I understand why —but…” He sighs, his words coming out in fast succession. A moment passes and Mike stares into the distance again, blinking rapidly and chewing on his lip. “I don’t really…wanna talk about it, I guess.”
Will nods slowly. This is slightly unusual, sure, but Mike doesn’t have any obligation to tell Will every single thing about his love life—even though Will can’t shake that stupid feeling deep down, the one that pulls at his heartstrings, tearing at them, telling him that something feels different all of a sudden.
“That’s okay,” Will replies, making sure he sounds as cautious and caring as possible. “Just letting you know that you can, if you—if you want.”
Mike stares at him, as if considering something, nodding shallowly. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before heaving a big sigh and looking down to pull the blanket further around his shoulders. “It’s… it’s weird, I don’t know.”
Will tilts his head. “What do you—”
“We broke up,” Mike blurts out, his voice shaky again.
“Oh,” Will breathes, hoping he doesn’t sound too surprised. “I’m so—”
Mike makes a small noise before cutting him off quickly, his voice rising, “I mean, not officially. But like, it’s pretty fucking obvious that she’ll never want to see… me again.” With his voice trailing off, Mike looks back down, trying to subtly wipe at his eyes. “Can’t say I blame her.”
Will had already been set on comforting Mike with a stake in his heart, but with that final, pathetic, sorrowful sentence, he’s angsty to do it, an itch in his bones to reach out. He shuffles forward, their legs now in full contact. Fuck it—he can’t take this strictly no-eye-contact thing that’s happening right now. Will reaches out and places a tentative hand on Mike’s shoulder.
He startles a little, but it’s enough to get him to look back up, his eyes shimmering. Did Leah really mean that much to him? That’s certainly not the impression Will had gotten over the past few weeks. And yeah, it’s only been a few weeks .
“What are you talking about?” Will says softly, rubbing his thumb back and forth mindlessly, feeling the soft fabric of Mike’s Legend of Zelda blanket. Mike scrunches his mouth to the side. “You know, she’s probably gonna, like, come around eventually.”
He wishes he knew more about the situation, not sure if what he’s saying is even helping. He wants nothing more than to see Mike’s little smile light up his face again. He hates everything about this, despite the excuse to touch Mike’s shoulder—the tears, the way Mike’s shaking, the fact that he’s telling Mike to get back with the girl who’s caused Will some jealousy (an awful emotion) over the past few weeks.
Mike shakes his head, so Will continues, “If it’s just a small fight, then you guys can figure it out. Yeah?” Lowering his head and forcing an earnest smile, Will watches Mike’s expression stay exactly the same, if not worse. His eyes grow even more shimmery, his skin reddening.
Floundering, Will licks his lips and takes his hand off Mike’s shoulder, resting it on the space where both their knees connect. “Unless, like, you don’t want to, of course,” he stammers, wondering if Leah is even less of a good person than he originally believed. “But I’m just saying, there’s probably much less to worry about than you think.”
Mike looks down again, seemingly unconvinced. “I don’t know,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.
A little panic swells in Will’s chest, urging him to continue, “Obviously, you don’t have to go full-on drama or anything, but sometimes…people just need a little space, y’know?” What am I even saying? Will thinks to himself, but he can’t stop now, wishing for the sweet relief of Mike’s smile or any indication that he’s okay.
“Maybe it was a miscommunication—I mean, I don’t want to assume anything, but maybe she’s stressed or something. It’s probably not all your fault, okay? But feeling like it is, that’s…that’s tough, I get it. Um, I’m just…” Will sighs, acutely aware of the silence from Mike, who still isn’t making any eye contact. “I’m just saying that you can take some time apart, maybe. And reach out at some point. Not to me. Well, you can, to me, I guess, if you want. But I mean—maybe you’re not the bad guy here. Right? Mike?”
By the time Will comes back down to Earth, Mike is silent, his head hanging low, hands tangled in his hair as he claws down the top of his head slowly. He’s shaking almost violently, his fingers messing up his hair as they drag down to his face. Trepidation pools in Will’s stomach, and he leans forward, trying to gauge a real reaction, murmuring softly, “Mike?”
A wet sniffle sounds, followed by a seemingly uncontrollable, quiet sob that escapes Mike’s throat, making Will’s eyes widen. “M-Mike,” he repeats, feeling like a broken record. “Shit, uh, I didn’t—”
Mike looks up, and all hopes of a full sentence go flying out the window. Tears are running down his face like he’s been silently crying the whole time Will was speaking. His lips tremble slightly, wrenching Will’s heart in two. How could anyone leave Mike like this?
This is why college girls who date Mike Wheeler and seem to treat him like garbage make no sense to Will. There was a time when Will truly believed no one could love Mike as painfully and all-encompassing as he did. But honestly, he thinks it should be impossible for anyone not to—with his jokes, his adorable habits, his confidence, and the protectiveness he shows over things he cares about. He sure as hell deserves better than this, better than Will simply reaching out with shaky fingers to touch his arms.
But Mike probably doesn’t understand what he deserves, so he surprises Will with the force of how he leans into the hug, pressing his forehead into Will’s shoulder. Immediately, perturbation stirs in Will’s veins at the sound of Mike’s quiet sobbing. Quickly, he realises he’s an idiot for not wrapping his arms around Mike’s back. For some reason, the small act of Will tightening his hold seems to spur the cries on.
“Woah, hey,” Will whispers, gently scratching at the curve of Mike’s back. He’s shaking again, tearing at Will’s heartstrings. “It’s okay, it’s…okay.”
Will closes his eyes. Mike has this odd, plastic-y smell about him at the moment, but there are still hints of his usual scent of new books and his old basement somewhere beneath it. His blanket is so soft, and so are the hairs now brushing against Will’s cheeks.
Stop it . Will scolds himself silently, wishing Mike wasn’t so warm and relaxing to have pressed up against him. It makes him wonder what it would be like if they had fewer boundaries, if Will could…
“Sorry,” Mike mumbles brokenly, the cracks within his tone working their way into Will’s brain like they’ll stay there the rest of the week. “I’m sorry—” Fuck, he’s starting to pull away. Will can sense the tension in his shoulders.
Will is (tentatively) content to let him do what he needs, but he feels Mike is just doing what he always does—not realising how much he deserves and how much he should be loved.
“It’s alright, don’t apologise,” Will reassures him, trying not to let the panic show in his voice at how close their faces are now that Mike has slightly pulled away, their hands still on each other’s backs. Mike nods slightly, before his face crumples and he starts crying again, tears trickling down to his jaw.
As Will wonders what the hell has gotten Mike to finally find the courage to openly sob into his shoulder, he deliriously whispers repeatedly, “I know,” despite really not knowing at all. The urge to touch Mike’s hair is exasperating—he just knows it’ll be soft as all hell. “It’ll be okay, Mike, it’ll be okay.”
This doesn’t seem to fix anything. In fact, Will feels like his statement only makes things worse, no matter how marginally. But, if he’s being honest with himself, it sends a warm thrill through him when Mike turns his head to tuck his face into Will’s neck, as if that’s the only thing that can provide any comfort at the moment. Will steadies, reminding himself who he’s doing this for.
Mike starts speaking, and Will might as well be dead, because his voice is vibrating so close to his skin that it sends goosebumps all over his neck.
“It’s just been…shitty. This whole week, I mean,” he mumbles, and Will nods. He can’t take this much longer, so he regrettably pulls back to look at Mike’s face. He’s stopped sobbing, but some tears still manage to escape as he searches Will’s eyes.
“Mhm, yeah?” Will says softly, his eyebrows knitted together, eyes wide and waiting for Mike to indicate that he’ll be alright. If Mike’s been having a terrible week without his knowledge, guilt will eat away at him for days. “I didn’t know that.”
Now that he’s thinking about it, though, Mike has been quieter lately. Reserved, more focused on his studies than usual, which is odd because he’s similar to Will in that they’d both much rather speak for hours about the college’s D&D club campaign (which was super professional by the way) than work.
“Mm—yeah, sorry,” Mike whispers, and Will instantly shakes his head.
“Stop—”
“H-how was your week anyway?” Mike asks gently, his voice a little hoarse as he wipes his cheeks, fully pulling his hands off Will and going back to his previous sitting position. Will frowns at the sudden subject change, but he knows how much Mike likes to distract himself when he’s upset. He hasn’t changed much.
“I haven’t like…checked in with you for a bit,” Mike continues, looking at Will with those eyes again, still a little wet, red around the edges.
“Uh, it was fine, yeah,” Will replies, keeping his voice at the tenderest volume possible, trying to find some way to explain what the hell just happened. He should probably tamp down the urge to pry further into Mike’s life. “I mean, my assignments are kicking my ass, but what’s new, right?”
He attempts a small chuckle, and Mike finally, wonderfully, reciprocates with a little exhale and a smile, brightening Will’s darkened world. Thank goodness, a light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe that’s the explanation for Mike’s sudden outburst—he’s had a terrible week, filled with little irritations, and this Leah thing was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“Bet your…love life is better than mine,” Mike murmurs, tracing lines on the duvet in his lap, shoulders bunched up.
Will restrains a ridiculous laugh from escaping his chest, wondering what he did to deserve the universe treating him like this right now. He doesn’t know why he’d expected Mike to never, ever mention the thing ever since it happened. To be honest, Will would have hated it if, after coming out to Mike with so much difficulty, Mike just stayed silent about it for the rest of time. But any acknowledgement still burns Will’s skin.
Coming out to Mike wasn’t easy, obviously, and it took everything in Will not to chicken out completely—after chickening out a hundred times before. It had been a slow, excruciating process. One that Will had no idea would begin until it was clear that there would be no better moment: in their room at midnight, celebrating their gruelling assignments being over. One that started with Mike wondering when Will was going to do something about all the girls that seemed so into him lately, and ended with the trembling, eyes-closed truth of “I’m gay, Mike” spilling from Will’s mouth in the quiet of the night.
He hadn’t expected Mike to respond the way he did—no awkward silence that lasted over a minute, no judgment or indication that he was hiding a prejudice. Just Mike sitting there, processing with raised eyebrows, then reaching over and squeezing Will’s shoulder, telling him that’s “cool” with him. He’d been a bit quiet afterwards, and Will had to start most of the conversations, but that was probably just Will’s anxiety about it talking.
One thing’s for sure, though. Mike barely brings it up. Whenever he does, it’s in this…weirdly shy way, like he’s worried he might offend Will. It’s not that odd, but it’s also not not odd either. For a few days, Will wished that Mike would show his ease more often by asking questions about guys he liked or something.
But now, with Mike’s voice soft, croaky, and a bit teasing, it makes Will want to crawl under his covers and never bring up the topic again. It only reminds him that he can’t possibly have a love life—at least, not one without Mike. He’s far too busy being Mike’s to ever dream of having a different guy on his mind.
Shit, Mike’s waiting for an answer.
“C’mon…” Will laughs, looking down shyly. “You know it’s practically non-existent.”
The corner of Mike’s lip raises slightly, probably in amusement, but he quickly looks down at his fingers again, sniffing the remnants of his tears. “Are you sure? I mean what about that…thing that happened—”
“Oh, uh, that,” Will interrupts, really really wanting to steer the conversation away from the most awkward thing that’s happened to him. Being asked out by a guy in his art class in front of his best friend and the love of his life. He doesn’t understand confident, non-nerdy guys anyway. Besides, he’s perfectly set on living in denial that he’ll probably be alone all his life once Mike finds a girl he’s actually happy with—living in denial that he’ll lose him to adult life, marriage, and probably kids of his own, making Will a stranger to him.
And even then, Will doesn’t think he’d be able to date anyone else without feeling like he’s emotionally cheating. Mike’s always been there. Even when the Mind Flayer had taken Will’s autonomy, his actions, his words, his brain, his memories, it hadn’t taken Mike. If even the monster capable of making anyone forget anything wasn’t able to make Will forget Mike, he doesn’t think any random guy can.
“That didn’t go anywhere,” Will says, chuckling nervously at himself. “And even if it did, I…I think I’m probably doomed to have awkward first dates that don’t go anywhere for the rest of time.”
It sounds like a joke, and probably to Mike too, based on his smile—but Will means it. No first date will ever feel comfortable thinking about his best friend the whole time.
“S-same,” Mike whispers, wiping at his nose. The blanket falls a little off his shoulders, but Will is quick to fix it, unable to resist seeing Mike in that cute, cuddly way, even if it comes with no reward. Mike looks at Will’s hands and stammers, “I-I mean, not in the same way but…”
Great, he’s being nice about the big, bad gay thing again. Will lets go of the blanket, hoping it’s just his imagination that his cheeks are heating up.
“So yeah, don’t worry, you’re not alone in your love life suffering, or whatever,” he says with a sympathetic smile.
“Well, sometimes I wish…” Mike whispers before his slight grin turns into a frown, and he trails off.
Will, curious, nudges his knee forward again. “Hm?”
Catching his gaze, Mike licks his lips and laughs himself off a bit. “I dunno, I just think I won’t be getting back with Leah anytime soon, I guess.”
For the millionth time, Will wishes he could see into Mike’s mind, step into his brain, and figure out whether that means Mike doesn’t actually want to be with her, or whether he’s just pitying himself again. Will’s pretty sure which one he’d prefer, but it’s probably not the one that’s reality.
“Sort of wanna forget what happened, I guess,” Mike continues, rounding off his conclusion with another sniffle as he bunches up his shoulders, like the very thought of what happened makes him curl up in embarrassment.
“You don’t wanna talk about it at all?” Will asks, his voice suddenly soft and gentle, encouraging. He cringes at himself now, wishing that things were normal, when Mike would spill everything to him, even if it killed him a little. The look that Mike gives him in response is odd—a little confused, a little regretful and was that…fondness?
“It’s…” Mike’s breathing has gotten noticeably deeper, heavier, in the last few seconds. His voice is smaller, more timid. “It’s really embarrassing.”
‘Embarrassing’ was not the word Will had been expecting. Sure, they used to be embarrassed about certain things around each other, but nowadays—now that they live together, talk about everything and change for bed in front of each other—it’s hard to feel that way. Maybe Will is allowed to feel embarrassed about certain things that will go unspoken, but definitely not Mike.
“Oh,” Will breathes, his eyebrows drawing together in concern as he reaches out to place his hand on Mike’s forearm, which is resting on his thigh. “N-no, I’m sure it’s not that bad. I mean, even if it's awful, you can still tell me.”
Mike shrugs and looks down where they’re touching, making Will flare up in—well—in embarrassment, funnily enough. But a surge of confidence flashes through him. If Mike isn’t allowed to be embarrassed, then Will isn’t either, so he squeezes Mike’s arm, softening his voice.
“It’s just me. I won’t judge you.”
For a moment, the air feels thick. Mike’s eyes travel across Will’s face and his eyebrows scrunch up with something Will can’t quite put his finger on. Will nods to encourage him, but the moment is soon over when Mike looks down again, moving his arm so Will’s forced to let go, letting out a melancholy sigh.
“I-I don’t want to…talk about it right now.” Mike’s voice is, once again, a little trembly and Will feels himself droop. But the “right now” gives him a little hope in his heart that the old, more open Mike can come back once all this Leah stuff has died down. It’s clear he’s holding back, but the walls are up, the distance widening.
Will watches as Mike pulls his blanket tighter around him, wrapping it like a shield.
“That’s okay, no pressure,” Will replies gently, his voice steady despite everything. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”
Mike looks up, his eyes shiny again, and Will swears this is the hardest he’s ever tried not to kiss the sadness away from his expression. Nodding quickly, Mike blinks rapidly, indicating it’s not the kind of nod that shows Will he’s relieved. He’s shutting down again. Will can see it, feel it, in the way Mike’s posture shifts, how his body gets smaller.
The silence that follows stretches out, and the only sound in the room is the rain tapping on the window next to Mike’s bed. The walls are still up, holding Mike back, and though Will can watch him slowly calm down, the weight of every unanswered question lies between them, unacknowledged. The urge to fill the space, to lighten it somehow, will probably be unhelpful. Will wants to grab Mike by the shoulders and shake him, get him to just say what he’s feeling. But that’s not what Mike needs. He needs time.
“Hey, um…” Will says, a little awkward but genuinely caring. “We can just hang out if you want? No talking about…it. Just, you know, whatever you want.”
Mike’s eyes flicker up to Will’s for a moment, just long enough for Will to catch the faintest spark of something. Maybe relief, maybe gratitude. But then it’s gone, hidden, just as quickly as it appeared. Looking back at the pillow on his bed, Mike heaves a deep sigh and shakes his head, giving a strained smile.
“I’m probably just gonna sleep, to be honest,” he murmurs, scrunching his mouth to the side. Now that Will has the chance to notice, Mike really does look exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, and the red tinge around his lashline might not just be from tears.
Will nods, understanding immediately, hoping Mike doesn’t sense his disappointment. “Okay! Yeah, sure, Mike. That’s alright,” he says, his voice toeing the line between cheerful and concerned.
Giving him a small, tired smile, Mike rubs a hand over his face. “Sorry, it’s just been…” He trails off, but Will knows he was going to say ‘ a lot’ . Mike speaks with his eyes more often than Will notices, usually. He guesses he’s used to it, used to reading him. Mike lets out a long breath, looking away to gather himself.
“I’ll be fine tomorrow, I…think,” Mike says, as if he needs to comfort Will after everything. The way he says it—soft, apologetic—makes Will’s heart ache even more, like the cherry on top of this whole situation.
“Don’t worry about it,” Will responds quickly, too quickly, trying to convince both Mike and himself. He wishes he didn’t worry so much about every little thing. He wishes he wasn’t going to spend an hour in bed overthinking this whole interaction. “You need rest, it’s fine.”
He guesses this is the end of it, so Will gets off the bed, turning around to find that Mike’s gaze had followed him completely, as if he hadn’t expected him to leave him at all. The quiet lingers between them for a second.
Will squints a little. “Are you…sure you—”
“Yeah,” Mike interrupts, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “It’ll be fine. Like- like you said.” The smile he offers Will is shaky, but for once, Will can be confident that it’s earnest.
“Okay,” Will whispers before turning around to grab his pyjamas out of the closet, leaving it open when he remembers. “Just remember what I said though, okay?”
“What?” Mike has snuggled back into bed now, his hair cutely splayed out over the pillow.
“That I won’t judge you. If you wanted to talk about it.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Nodding slowly, Mike shifts his gaze to Will’s bed for some reason. Will gets an uncomfortable stir in his stomach, as if Mike’s impatient for Will to get to sleep so he can do something in private, like cry or let his real feelings out. But Mike opens his mouth and closes it again. He’s considering. Will silently begs.
When nothing happens, Will turns away and walks into the bathroom, sighing when he gets to the mirror. As he puts his pyjamas on and brushes his teeth, he tries not to think about the possibilities. He tries not to think about whether Mike has somehow found out that Will’s feelings for him extend way past friendship, and that’s why Leah broke up with him and why he’s so hesitant. Because, of course, Mike would be super polite about everything.
But that doesn’t explain his crying.
When Will gets into bed, he expects to turn on his desk lamp and finish writing the last of his notes that he missed in his previous class, with Mike soundly snoring a few feet away. But Mike’s voice startles him.
“Will?” His tone is small, tinged with sleep. Before Will can even open his mouth to reply at all, Mike repeats, a little softer, “Will?”
“Yeah, wassup?” Turning on his side, Will refrains from daring to hope that Mike has already come around, ready to talk about what happened in the dead of night. He’s okay with that—he would talk to Mike forever if he had to.
“This is probably weird, I don’t know, uh—” Mike cuts himself off with a sigh and shakes his head, shifting in bed. “N-never mind.”
Desperation pulls at Will’s limbs, adrenaline coursing through him at the possibility of new information. And he’s pretty sure that anything ‘weird’ that Mike wants is probably exactly what Will wants too. He tries his best to hide the urgency in his voice when he assures him, “Hey, no, no, it’s fine. What is it?”
“Um, okay,” Mike mumbles before shuffling around to steady himself. Will feels like he can’t hold his breath much longer, his shoulders tense. “Would it be okay to…to like, have one of those?”
Mike widens his eyes and gives a subtle nod, waiting for a response. Completely dumbstruck, Will looks around, trying to figure out what the hell that could mean, what the hell Mike wants at all.
When he turns back, Mike looks nervous, like he’s asking a huge, monumental question, despite it virtually meaning nothing. “One of what?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head.
Mike squeezes his eyes shut for a second, and Will feels the need to reiterate his point: Mike never needs to feel embarrassed in front of him again. “Y- you know. Um, could I have… Anura, or something, tonight? Maybe.”
Will blinks twice. “What?” He tries to lighten the mood, and the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s in a fever dream right now, with a small chuckle.
Mike groans and buries his face into the pillow beneath him, making Will frown further, but also want to kiss his cute, scrunched-up forehead crease right now. “You don’t…? Uh,” Mike’s voice is muffled. “It’s fine if you don’t have him anymore, I don’t know why I thought—”
“ Ohh , yeah,” Will breathes, a smile spreading across his face gleefully as the pieces click together in his mind. Anura , a.k.a the Latin name for frog, which Mike and Will, being the absolute nerds they are, decided to call the stuffed frog that Mike had won at the freshman fair in the first week of college. If Will’s being honest, he had truly believed Mike had forgotten about it, and forgotten that he had given it to Will, making him the happiest guy on earth for that day.
Will fumbles around in the corner of his bed, where he now realises Mike had been nodding towards. He’d brought a few stuffed animals with him to college, namely a bear, a tiger and a couple of lions. And sure, he would have felt a little childish and embarrassed if his roommate had been anyone else, but Mike never comments on it. Except for now, but this is definitely not a bad thing.
Will finally produces Anura, a medium-sized frog plush whose fur has been slightly roughened by Will’s sleeping position, where his head lies right on top of it every night. Grinning, Will leans off his bed to hand it to Mike, whose face looks a little brighter, a small grin spreading across it. In the dim light, Will swears he can make out a faint blush on his cheeks.
“Thanks,” Mike mumbles as he takes hold of it and shuffles back into his snug position, this time with Anura in his arms, holding him close to his chest hesitantly. “You sure you’re okay with me having this?”
Will can’t ignore the pang in his chest, the utter, wonderful agony that this image creates. He can only look at it and not comment on how much he wants to be in Mike’s bed instead. How much he wants to be held like that, specifically by Mike, with his hair all messed up from sleepiness. It’s a little silly to be jealous of a stuffed animal, sure, and Will’s not denying that fact, but it’s also not ridiculous to wonder why the hell Mike wanted this so badly.
He just needs comfort, he’ll tell you when he’s ready , Will reminds himself, before replying, “Of-of course! I mean, why not? You won it for me anyway.”
Mike’s resulting gentle smile and laugh tug at his heartstrings. “I guess I did.”
For a moment, Will wonders if he should wash his stuffed animals more, worried that the amount he sleeps next to Anura makes it smell bad or something. But the fact that Mike’s buried his face, including his nose, in the green fur says otherwise, at least. Will smiles in relief at the obvious comfort this brings him, wishing he could say more.
Quickly, Will’s brought back to reality when he reminds himself that Mike doing this is surely not an indicator of anything but him missing his girlfriend, with whom he literally just had an earth-shattering argument. At least he can happily pretend, for a little while, that it’s because he wants to feel Will’s touch.
“Hey Mike?” Will asks carefully, watching fondly as Mike’s head appears again, his eyes squinted with sleep.
“Hm?”
“You okay?”
Mike waits for a few seconds, humming. “I…I’m better,” he says, landing Will with the uncontrollable urge to grin wildly. “Thanks, Will. Night.”
Sensing there’s still a wall up, Will chews on his lip and wonders what else there must be to say. What else there must be to hide? Much, apparently. Still, he watches as Mike turns away to the curtained window and settles in.
“Goodnight, Mike,” he mumbles.
As the room plunges into darkness, Will stares at the lump in Mike’s bed, wondering what it would take to know the truth of what happened. He feels the familiar weight of questions in his chest, questions he’s pretty sure will never get answered. He’s used to it, he supposes, but he also wonders how much more of this he can take before it breaks him.
And then what will they do?
Will shifts to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the absence of his favourite stuffed animal underneath his head.