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✧ ⋆ [One] ⋆ ✧
The first time Mike kisses him, Will thinks he’s dreaming.
There is absolutely no way that Mike is hugging Will’s waist from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder and smiling contently after pressing a tender kiss to Will’s temple. There’s just no way. Will refuses to believe it.
Can someone pinch him? He’s dreaming. Has to be.
How did this even happen? How did they get here?
It started like every other normal night out — with Will and Mike going to a club, because Will asked to go.
It’s the new routine that has been going on for a few months now. Every other week, Will would want to go out. To meet guys. To find someone to potentially date.
Truth is, Will is sick of pining after the idiot who’s too oblivious to notice the subtle flirting he’s been doing. Given how Mike always treats Will differently than his other friends, Will had decided to play into it a little — he’d keep Mike’s gaze a few seconds longer, touch his upper arm every chance he got, lean into their playful banter more than usual.
Mike being Mike, however, didn’t notice a single thing. So Will gave up and decided to try his luck with going out and looking at other guys that are not Mike Wheeler.
Will loves partying. He likes the music, the lights, the potential to meet new people. And even if he goes home one night without talking to anyone new, he’ll know he had his fun. The thing is, most guys he does meet turn out to be, well… they’re just not what he’s looking for. They’re either not his type, or their character sucks, or they just turn out to be really fucking creepy. Which is why Will hates going out alone, because he’s scared that something might go dangerously wrong one day.
Mike despises going out to clubs and bars. It’s too loud, too packed, too warm, too bright — he just can’t stand it. He hates it.
Their routine started because Will, very shyly, knocked on Mike’s bedroom door one day and asked him if he wanted to join him on a night out. He knows how much Mike dislikes everything about it, and he was fully prepared to be turned down. To his surprise, however, Mike agreed and got ready immediately. Will didn’t even have to explain.
He supposed it’s because Will had told him a few stories before about what kind of guys are out there. There was one guy who wouldn’t stop touching him, another guy who shamed Will for being vegetarian, another one who kept asking for his number until Will felt scared enough to give in. Mike made him block the guy the second that first text came in and voiced his concerns about Will going out alone.
Now they do it together, and it didn’t take long for them to find a way to navigate their wildly different ways to socialise. Will would talk to guys, dance with guys, laugh with guys — Mike would stand somewhere nearby with a drink in hand, idly sipping it while keeping a close eye on his friend. And whenever Will feels uncomfortable and needs to get out of a situation, he’d shoot Mike this one particular look that said help.
And Mike would put his drink down and walk over immediately. I don’t feel well, can we go? he’d say, or don’t forget that we’re visiting your family tomorrow, or I’m really drunk, I want to go home. He’d always get Will out of certain situations without ever wanting anything in return. Will values this a lot, of course he does, and makes sure that Mike feels truly okay whenever they’d make their way home.
Mike always has an excuse ready, and Will feels infinitely better going out to party and talking to guys because he knows that Mike is there to watch over and protect him. Like a guard dog. A mean one. No one ever approaches him because he looks like he’s ready to kill any second while he watches Will.
Well. That’s Mike’s issue, not Will’s. Will thinks it’s sort of funny, if he’s being honest.
This time is no different. They’re in a club, there’s loud music blaring, and Will is standing by a column talking to a guy. Or, rather, the guy is talking to Will.
Will is not interested. He’s trying to convey that by giving short answers, smiling politely at jokes instead of forcing a laugh, and looking around instead of keeping his eyes on the dude. He’s not Will’s type, and he’s way too drunk to articulate himself properly, and he reeks of alcohol, and —
Will is too polite to tell him to please leave him alone. He doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. Will is scared the guy will get angry and scream at him, and Will just doesn’t want to cause an unnecessary scene. That’s why he lifts his head and turns it towards where he saw Mike last, and as expected, he’s still there.
Looking right back at Will already.
Being watched so intently by the person he’s trying to get over makes Will’s stomach all warm, but he tries to ignore it, and, instead, shoots Mike that specific look that indicates that he needs an out. He watches as Mike immediately knocks the rest of his drink back before setting the glass down, so Will looks away and smiles to himself at how ready his childhood best friend is to come and save him. When he manages to control the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards any further, he tries to find Mike in the crowd again — but he can’t see him anymore.
All he notices is the guy next to him very persistently talking about his boring life and how he’d love to take Will out some time. At least that’s what Will thinks he’s saying, because it’s hard to understand him with all the slurring he’s doing. Will really, really wants to get away and leave, and he’s wondering why Mike is taking so long, because normally —
And there he is, suddenly appearing behind Will. He doesn’t see Mike as much as he feels him, because he comes up to him from behind and slowly snakes his arms around Will’s waist. Mike pulls him backwards until Will is flush against his chest, his muscles locking up and gripping the glass in his hands so hard that it might shatter if he keeps the pressure up.
Will already thinks this isn’t real, because he can feel Mike’s body warmth seeping through the fabric of their shirts and right into his spine, setting his entire body aflame. Mike’s arms come around to hold on to him tightly, and Will can only be glad that the light in the club is low and colourful enough to hide the sudden blush on his cheeks.
As if that wasn’t enough, though, what happens next convinces Will that he must be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or maybe he travelled into an alternate universe.
He feels Mike crane his neck until his head is right next to Will’s, and then he purses his lips and presses the most tender, careful kiss right to his temple. Mike keeps his mouth against his skin for only two seconds, but they feel like a lifetime for Will. After, he rests his chin on Will’s shoulder, and Will turns his head just the slightest bit to see Mike smiling to himself all satisfied and happy.
What the fuck?
There is no way this is real. He must be seeing and feeling things. Paranormal things. Maybe this isn’t Mike but some dude that feels like him, smells like him, looks like him and makes Will feel just as safe as the real Mike would.
“Hey baby, have you made a new friend?”
The entity even sounds like Mike. Will is dreaming.
“How’s it going?” says Mike next, smiling kindly at the guy.
Will twists his head a little more to scan Mike properly, immediately taking note of the fact that his smile is so obviously fake that it almost makes him want to laugh. This situation is so bizarre and unreal and Will has no idea what’s happening.
The guy furrows his brows hard at Mike and tries his best to stop swaying from side to side, seemingly studying the situation in front of him. Will feels Mike give a hint of a squeeze around his waist, causing him to startle out of his thoughts.
“Uhm, yeah, this is… Marc,” Will says then, gesturing over to him with his glass.
“Marcus,” he corrects, nearly stumbling over. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend,” Marcus says around a hiccup or two, flailing his arm towards Mike.
Mike lets out a soft chuckle on Will’s shoulder. “Oh, Will, were you teasing this poor guy?” he asks, glancing at him quickly before looking back at Marcus. “Yeah, sorry, he does that sometimes.”
What the hell is happening? Will can’t be that drunk to start imagining things, right? This is only his third cocktail, and he hasn’t even finished it yet. He always pays attention to not get too drunk whenever he wants to seriously find someone to talk to. They’ve been here for around one and a half hours now, but Will starts to question whether he’s travelled to a parallel universe because this just can’t be real.
He especially refuses to acknowledge the fact that Mike’s tight and warm embrace melts all kinds of tension right out of him. How, even if he doesn’t know what’s going on, Will leans back against Mike’s chest and presses into his touch. The content hum he thinks he hears behind him is something he chalks up to being part of the bass from the song that’s currently playing.
Marcus keeps his eyes locked on them, especially Mike. When he notices how Will relaxes in Mike’s hold, he scoffs and downs the rest of his drink. Will doesn’t say anything. He thinks he couldn’t, even if he knew what.
“Anyway, do we wanna go home? Your mom wanted to come over at nine in the morning tomorrow,” says Mike then, turning his head to speak into Will’s ear while keeping his gaze pinned on Marcus.
Goosebumps wash over Will’s arms at the sound of Mike’s voice so close to him. He’s not sure if he hates how it calms him down even further, and his eyes are stuck on Marcus as he watches his reaction. He’s visibly irritated and annoyed, and Will is glad that he motioned Mike over the moment he did — even if the current situation is one he has no idea how to handle.
“Shit, I forgot. Sorry,” Will mumbles then, nodding quickly and swallowing.
“No worries, baby,” Mike chuckles.
Baby.
Baby.
Will has never heard Mike call anyone that. And suddenly he is the one that Mike says it to, twice already, and it’s all of his dreams and nightmares coming true at once. Dreams because he spent countless moments imagining what it would feel like to have Mike call him that, and nightmares because he knows it isn’t real.
“Come on, let’s go. Say bye to your friend,” Mike adds, slowly unwrapping his arms from around Will. He softly takes Will’s half empty drink away and downs the rest himself before setting it down on the nearest table.
Marcus watches the scene with wide eyes. So does Will. Mike then looks at them and simply… waits.
“Uhm.” Will clears his throat and raises an awkward hand to wave. “Bye.”
“Whatever,” scoffs Marcus before turning around and stumbling away.
Mike snorts and places a hand on Will’s lower back, gently guiding him towards the wardrobe to get their jackets. He hands back the chips with the numbers and gives Will his jacket, then puts on his own. His palm returns to the spot on Will’s back as he leads him to the exit of the club, and then they step out into the rather fresh air. They walk for a few minutes like that until the establishment is out of sight, Will keeping quiet the entire time. Mike eventually removes his hand from Will and nudges his shoulder with his own.
“Was that guy bothering you a lot?” he asks, his voice warm and calming.
Will wishes it didn’t have the effect it has. “Yeah, he, uhm,” he starts, then stops before trying again. “I clearly showed no interest but he wouldn’t leave me alone.”
Next to him, Mike hums. They walk in step, and Will buries his hands deep into his pockets.
“I wish I could just ask people to leave me alone like any other person can,” Will mumbles then, gaze fixed on the ground.
“You’re too polite for that,” Mike shrugs. “You don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“I can’t even properly stand up for myself.”
“That’s what you have me for.”
“I can’t rely on you all the time.”
“I don’t mind.”
Stop saying stuff like that, Will wants to say. He doesn’t. Instead, he lifts his head and settles on, “I’d like to be able to turn people down without feeling like the worst person alive for it.”
Mike hums once more, and Will can see him nodding slightly.
“Just tell them you have a boyfriend next time.”
Will scoffs and rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I want to lie. Also, I am trying to date, so lying would be stupid.”
He sees Mike shuffle closer out of the corner of his eye, then fails to suppress a small smile when Mike knocks their elbows together.
“It’s not like you’ll see them again. And even if you do, it’s none of their business,” Mike says. “I’m always there with you, anyway. I’d be your boyfriend in case you needed one to get out of a situation. You know I’m always there to help you.”
I do know, Will thinks. I know you’d do anything. That’s the problem.
A hum vibrates softly in his throat in response. He nods faintly and shuffles his shoes across the pavement towards the building that houses their shared apartment. He wonders if there’s any harm in having Mike pretend to be his boyfriend for a few minutes every few weeks if it means getting a taste of what it would be like in another life. It’s like he’s dipping his toes into an ocean that’s closed off to him, and the only chance he gets to feel it is shimmying as close to the edge as the water will allow him.
It’s not like it means anything to Mike. He’s just being a good friend and doing what Will asked him to do — get him out of uncomfortable situations.
Why Mike decided that playing pretend after months of coming up with all kinds of other excuses, Will doesn’t know. It’s unfair. It’s so unfair that Mike let Will feel the warmth in his touch and words that he’s been craving for years, only to take it away once it’s all over.
It’s unfair because Will thought it wouldn’t hit him as much as it does.
“Okay,” he breathes eventually, pushing his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket.
“Okay?” Mike asks, and Will sees him look over in his peripheral. “You’d let me do that for you?”
Will hates how hopeful Mike sounds about it. He hates how the tone of his voice makes his heart flutter.
“Yeah.” Will keeps his eyes trained on the ground, watching his feet take one step after another. “To help me get out of weird interactions.”
Mike is quiet for a second before seemingly prying his eyes off Will. “Okay, cool. Just shoot me that look next time you need me.”
“Mhm.”
✧ ✧
Will Byers loves Mike Wheeler.
To Will, that statement is as obvious as saying that the sun is hot, or that water is wet. It’s just… a law of nature, in a way. Impossible to think away, because it’s just a part of who Will is. The amount of love in his body for his childhood best friend would probably be enough to keep him going for the rest of his life even if Mike never reciprocates his feelings.
Which he doesn’t, so Will is good to go either way.
He pretends that Mike pressing the most tender kiss to his temple didn’t put a crack in the foundation he’s been building around him for years now.
✧ ⋆ [Two] ⋆ ✧
It happens again around two weeks later for the second time.
They’re in a bar this time, not a club. It’s not quite as packed here and not as loud, but still full enough to clarify the area as busy. Will always makes sure they go to queer friendly establishments, meaning that he can exist in his skin in peace, hopefully without worrying about being hate-crimed.
It’s not like it can’t still happen, of course, but the chances are just generally lower in places like these. Plus, he knows that Mike is close by and watching him. He’d step in without hesitation if Will needed him to.
He hasn’t looked at him for help tonight so far. Will has had a few good, calm conversations with a couple of men so far. They never lead to anything, but he’s not too mad about that — after all, he’s still happy to just share some comfortable moments with a few guys here and there.
Currently, Will sits on a high stool at the bar with a drink in his hand. Next to him sits a man that he’s been talking to for a little over ten minutes, and he’s being extremely friendly and polite. Will can’t tell if that’s just his character or if there’s something else hiding behind it, but he chooses to blame the flow of alcohol coursing through his body for not being able to.
His name is Jordan, and despite his overly friendly nature, he does seem genuinely nice. He makes Will giggle and smile, and Will finds himself nodding along to whatever he’s saying. Jordan is decent-looking as well — he’s a little taller than Will, seems to work out, and knows how to dress. His hair is blonde and tamed with gel — which Will usually isn’t a fan of, but it suits him weirdly well.
The conversation is going well enough, and they keep talking for a little while. Will isn’t sure whether Jordan is the type of man he’d usually go for, but he seems interesting, so he might as well give it a shot.
They stay there, bouncing topics back and forth and sipping their drinks when the situation suddenly shifts.
Jordan reaches over to put a hand on Will. It’s not the friendly touch that Will would personally go for, like placing his hand on a knee or upper arm. Jordan plants his palm on Will’s thigh. Way too high, way too close to the inside of his leg, and when he has the audacity to squeeze it, Will finds himself wanting to throw up on the spot.
Will does not look down. He tries his best not to acknowledge the touch. He stumbles over his words for a second before catching himself, and he falls into a rant about a random topic while gesturing around wildly with his free hand. The feeling of discomfort spreads from his thigh through the rest of his body, and he keeps talking to disguise the fact that he’s desperately trying to get Mike to help him.
They lock eyes quickly, and Will doesn’t even try to hide the panic in his body language anymore when he sees Mike walk over without wasting a second. Jordan starts talking about something to do with marketing and how to advertise products correctly while hiking his hand higher, and Will’s entire body goes stiff at the touch.
“Sorry, the line at the bathroom was horrendously long,” Mike says as soon as he arrives, practically materialising at Will’s side. “Ready to go?”
While Will breathes a sigh of relief, he notices both Mike and Jordan lock up. He knows that Mike sees now why he called him over, and he can tell that his blood starts boiling the second Jordan raises both eyebrows at him.
“Excuse me? And you are?” Jordan asks, straightening his back. His hand stays planted on Will’s thigh, though he slides it down and more towards the outside of his leg a little.
“His boyfriend. Care to take your hand off of him? I don’t want to have to break it.”
Will swallows and his eyes go wide. There’s an undertone in Mike’s voice that he’s never heard before, so he can’t tell where it’s coming from and what it means. Jordan seems to notice Will’s reaction to Mike’s words, because he scoffs around a grin.
“Does he know you’re his boyfriend?” he asks Mike, jutting his chin towards Will. He makes no moves to retract his hand, but rather leans closer to Will and squeezes his thigh.
Mike immediately lifts a hand to press it against Jordan’s chest, pushing him back until he has no other choice than to retreat his arm and even stand up from his bar stool. “You’re making him uncomfortable. Keep your distance before I make you,” Mike warns, voice dropping dangerously low, before letting his hand fall to his side.
The situation is calm enough to not raise any suspicion or gain the bartender’s attention, no matter how much Will wants it to. He doesn’t want to cause a scene. He feels unsafe and just wants to go home with Mike, then curl into a ball under his blanket and forget that the stranger touched him the way he did.
He slowly grips the fabric of Mike’s sweater sleeve, tugging carefully. When Mike looks at him, Will sees his expression soften immediately. “Let it go,” Will says quietly as he peers up at him, feeling too anxious to stand up.
Mike’s shoulders drop slightly at the words as he seems to listen to Will, but their small bubble of comfort is popped quickly when a voice from the side interrupts them.
“You know,” Jordan starts, making Will look at him again. He swallows thickly as the man fixes him with a smug grin. “You could’ve just said you weren’t interested instead of getting a fucking stranger to play pretend for you.”
Will feels sick. He just wants to leave. He may even want a hug once they’re outside. His gaze darts between the guy and Mike when Jordan shoots Mike a pleased look. Neither of them says anything, but when Will looks at Mike and sees him start to grin as something crosses his eyes, his heart drops.
“I’ll show you ‘stranger’,” Mike announces then before turning his entire body fully towards Will. He carefully reaches out to rest a hand on Will’s shoulder, spinning him on his bar stool until he properly faces Mike as well. Then, his palm travels to Will’s chin which he holds carefully, using his touch to tilt his head up.
What is happening?
Will’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest when Mike tilts his head higher and higher until their faces are lined up, and then Mike leans down.
Now, Will’s heart stops.
“Tell me stop,” Mike whispers as he leans in, more and more until they breathe the same air. His eyes stay locked on Will’s wide ones, studying him thoroughly as if he’s as easy to read as a book.
Knots of anticipation pull taut in Will’s gut. Is this really happening? He’s dreaming, right? He has to be. This is a joke. There’s no way that Mike is really going to —
The distance between them shrinks the more Mike leans in, and when their mouths are only a hair’s width apart, he stops. Will didn’t tell him to stop, why did he stop?
Would Mike actually go through with this? Would he kiss him? Is Will allowed to selfishly take this when Mike so graciously offers it to him?
The intense eye contact threatens to melt Will, the warm seeping out of Mike’s eyes so great that Will finds himself wanting to bathe in it. He takes a deep breath and nods softly before he can think twice about it, letting his eyes flick downwards to Mike’s mouth.
Mike takes the hint and closes the last bit of distance between them, and Will swears that he saw him smirk before letting his eyes fall shut. The kiss is soft, not at all like the ones Will is used to, and he’d reach up and grip onto the collar of Mike’s sweater to pull him closer if he were allowed to. It’s just a gentle press of mouths, their lips slotting together like puzzle pieces, and Will really, really wants to properly kiss Mike.
But he can’t. So he doesn’t.
The knots snap in his gut either way, making him hot inside and letting him yearn for more.
When Mike pulls away a few seconds later, Will slowly opens his eyes to meet Mike already looking back at him. He seems strangely accomplished, but that’s something Will decides to not even try and think about.
Will has kissed other guys more properly. He’s made out with them. He had tongues in his mouth, explored theirs with his own, and tasted their spit. He’s done way more than just an innocent press of one pair of lips against another.
Still; this kiss was, without a doubt, the best kiss Will has ever had. And he hates himself for being able to acknowledge that.
He has half a mind to register Jordan scoffing next to them before walking away and throwing an insult over his shoulder. Mike and Will stay close, Mike’s hand still on his chin.
Something just changed.
“Do you wanna leave now?” Mike whispers between them, his gaze the softest Will has ever seen him look at him with.
No, I want you to kiss me again.
“Yeah,” he answers in a quiet breath and mourns the closeness as soon as Mike widens the distance between them. Will tries not to pout when Mike pulls his hand away, so he knocks back the rest of his drink instead and stands up.
They get their jackets before walking out into the night, starting to make their way back towards their apartment building. The atmosphere between them is different — obviously it is.
Mike just kissed Will, and Will forgot how much he’s been wishing for this exact moment for years. Under different circumstances, though, and maybe in a more romantic setting. Maybe in a way where Mike actually likes him back and kisses him simply because he wants to. Not to simply help him.
Will wants Mike to want to kiss him.
“Uhm,” he stammers then, trying his best not to look at Mike. “Thank you for… you know. You didn’t have to do that.”
“He wasn’t going to leave you alone otherwise,” Mike shrugs. “And I didn’t necessarily want to beat him up.”
His words get a quiet giggle out of Will, because, yeah. He wouldn’t want Mike to put himself into a dangerous situation just because Will is not able to tell someone no.
Is it bad that he’s happy about Mike choosing to kiss him?
“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Will replies quietly.
“You could never make me uncomfortable, Will,” Mike assures him and softly knocks his elbow into Will’s while they walk. “I’d do it again if you asked me to.”
You can’t just say stuff like that, Will thinks. Because you make it sound like you’d kiss me if I asked you to right now.
Will hums in response, mumbling a quiet, “thank you.”
✧ ✧
Loving Mike is the easiest thing Will has ever done. It’s also, truth be told, the most painful thing he’s ever done.
Being in love with your best friend of over fifteen years doesn’t just happen without affecting you negatively, especially if said friend doesn’t love you back the same way. You live every single day wishing to be looked at the way you look at him. You spend day in and day out yearning to receive even an ounce of the love back that you feel. You walk through life praying to whatever higher power to take this love away from you, because, while it is the most freeing thing you’ve ever felt, it’s also the most suffocated you’ve found yourself.
He tries to pretend that Mike kissing him didn’t cause the walls around him to break into pieces, threatening to crumble if Will doesn’t manage to keep himself in check.
✧ ⋆ [Three] ⋆ ✧
The third time it happens, Will is convinced that the universe is playing a huge joke on him.
They’re in a new club that opened just recently, and Will had been dying to check it out. It’s nice and spacious — the bar is big enough to house some chairs to sit on, which is where Will currently finds himself. The place is packed but still manageable, the establishment offering enough space for everyone to find a place to have their fun. The lights are comfortable for his eyes, not too bright and flashing. The music is loud, but the DJ seems to have immaculate taste since the entire club erupts in cheers with every new song that he plays. The designated dance floor is made up of colourful tiles that light up softly, and if Will didn’t feel so disappointed and defeated, he might stand up to dance a bit.
However, not a singular man has approached him so far tonight. Nobody even tried to start up a conversation with him — he’s just been sitting alone at the bar, nursing drink after drink, sighing into his glass.
Don’t get him wrong, he also tried to talk to some guys himself. But they kindly turned him down every single time. Which is okay, of course, but it doesn’t change the fact that he feels quite upset at finding himself alone at the bar of this new club when he originally thought that it would be great to come here.
Will stares down into his drink — his third, he thinks — and absent-mindedly stirs it with his straw. He’s got one of his elbows planted on the wooden counter top of the bar, resting his cheek on his palm, while one of his legs bounces up and down below him. The ice cubes float in circles around his glass, and Will shortly wonders if he’s able to hypnotise himself if he focuses on the movement long enough.
“Hey, come here often?”
“Very funny, Mike,” Will says and lifts his head slightly to watch his childhood best friend and love of his life slide into the seat next to him. He’s got his own drink in his hand, nearly empty, and Will doesn’t know if that’s his first or second or third or —
“You look really disappointed to see me,” Mike teases, tilting his head as he looks at him.
With a sigh that should say enough on its own, Will lets his shoulder slump and looks down again. “Sorry, I’m just… I feel like coming here was a waste of time.”
Mike’s playful attitude immediately crumbles as he studies him. “What’s wrong?”
“Just — ” Will interrupts himself with a groan before starting again. “There’s no guys wanting to talk to me, and I haven’t just been sitting here and waiting to be approached. I tried talking to some people, but they weren’t interested.”
A hand on his shoulder that squeezes gently makes him look up again, seeing Mike smiling softly at him. “I get that you’re upset, but if you come here expecting to successfully talk to men, I don’t think that’s very healthy.”
“Shut up,” Will says, but they both know that he’s not serious. “Don’t be the voice of reason here. Let me wallow in my self pity. Let me be sad that I’m single.”
Mike chuckles quietly, giving his shoulder another squeeze before pulling his hand away. Will wishes he didn’t. But it’s not like he can complain — not when Mike makes it his personal mission to cheer Will up, no matter what it takes.
He keeps Will busy by talking to him and making him listen. Mike shares stories from his literature classes, complains about his professors, and tells Will about the ideas he has for certain assignments. He jokes around, trying to pull a laugh or two out of Will, only to hit… a wall, of some sort.
Will is so grateful for Mike trying his best to lighten the mood, and he really wants to let it work — he tries to giggle, tries to smile, but everything seems too fake somehow. And he doesn’t want to lie to Mike. He knows Mike can tell that his attempts at cheering Will up miss.
There’s this lingering sense of something inside of Will that he can’t seem to shake off. He wants it gone. He wants to be able to laugh with Mike and have fun tonight, but the feeling within him won’t let him enjoy the company.
Normally, Mike’s presence alone is enough for Will to bounce out of whatever hole he finds himself in. Seeing Mike doing something as simple as smiling at him feels like winning the lottery. Hearing him laugh? Yeah, Will feels like his entire future is taken care of. Whenever they share touches like a bump of their elbows or a brush of their knees, Will feels warmth crawl back inside his core, making a nest right in the middle.
When Mike kissed Will’s temple, it felt like a sharp strike of lightning hit his entire body. It was like a new kind of energy found him, recharging him and making it easy to keep going. When Mike kissed Will’s mouth, Will found himself drowning the second the contact ended, like his lips are the air that he needs to breathe day in and day out.
Those are things Will wishes wouldn’t affect him as much as they do.
His drink holds three, maybe four more sips of beverage, and Will lifts the glass to down the rest of it in one go. He feels the comfortable burn travel down his throat, making him feel at least something. He’s about to order a new one when Mike hastily knocks back the rest of his own drink, and suddenly he stands up to face Will, reaching a hand towards him.
Will looks down at Mike’s hand, then lifts his head to furrow his brows at him. Mike simply smiles and wriggles his fingers, raising his palm to do so right in front of Will’s face. When Will doesn’t react, not knowing what is expected of him, Mike huffs and curls his fingers in a grabby motion.
“What?” asks Will, not able to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching up in slight amusement. He watches as Mike exaggerates his movements, growing more impatient by the second. “Mike, what?”
“Come on, let’s go dance for a bit,” Mike explains then, smiling dumbly and looking far too pleased with his idea.
The previously amused expression falls from Will’s face in an instant, and he fixes Mike with a confused gaze. “Mike,” he says slowly, “you don’t dance. You hate dancing. Even more so in public.”
They just look at each other for a few seconds then. Will waits for Mike to say something, while Mike seems to wait for Will to take his hand. Mike keeps steadily moving his fingers in waves, the motion pulling Will’s attention down onto them. He knows how stubborn he can get at times, and he does think it’s kind of cute how insistent Mike seems to be right here and now.
“I will dance. Today. With you,” Mike says, smiling. He lifts his other hand and reaches it towards Will as well, doing the same, urgent movements with his fingers. “So come on.”
Will stares at him. Mike stares back, his smile widening by the second, because he seems to notice how Will’s hesitation is crumbling more and more with the way Mike looks down at him and asks him to dance.
Mike never asks him to dance. So he might as well use this chance to dance with him.
With a roll of his eyes and an amused scoff, Will swings his arms and plants both of his palms in Mike’s. Mike grins widely and pulls him out of his seat, then drags him along to the part of the club where the tiles on the floor light up in bright, neon colours.
He lets go of him once they reach the dance area. Will stands there a little awkwardly, not really sure how to start. He’s not drunk enough to not care about the way he’s moving, and he knows that Mike isn’t either. Mike doesn’t dance, what was he thinking?
Just as Will is about to open his mouth and tell him that they should go back, Mike begins to move his body. Despite being able to keep the rhythm going through his movements, he clearly doesn’t know how to dance. His limbs flail around sort of uncontrollably and he’s shuffling in his spot, and the view is honestly one of the best that Will has ever seen.
It’s just so unmistakably Mike that Will can’t help but feel his heart do a flip at the sight. It’s Mike, being a dumb, stupid idiot, but he’s Mike. Being his truest self, taking care of Will and wanting to help him.
It’s over the second Mike starts to sing along to the song that is currently playing.
Will bursts out laughing, and the uncomfortable weight that sat in his chest before is quickly forgotten about. Mike grins from ear to ear as he watches and hears him laugh, and seeing Mike happy at his success is just so pure and adorable that Will wants to allow himself to relish the feeling for once.
He begins to dance with him, all uncoordinated and funny, giggling the entire time. Mike chuckles as well, and it seems like neither of them cares that there are other people on the dance floor with them. They laugh and spin and jump to all kinds of different songs, only looking at each other while smiling with their entire faces.
Honestly, Will didn’t think that he’d be able to break out of the sad shell he found himself in at the bar. But Mike managed to pull him out of it. He somehow always manages.
After around twenty minutes of making fools of themselves in the club, the atmosphere changes. The lights dim and the people quiet down, eagerly anticipating the next song. The tiles below them switch to soft, warm hues of colours, bathing the entire dance floor in a sea of red, orange, and yellow. Will and Mike stand still, patiently waiting to see what happens next.
Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx starts to play, setting the mood for the next few minutes. Some people shuffle away, not wanting to engage in this type of music at the moment, making room for people that do.
Will feels his genuine smile wipe off his face in less than a second. The song does a great job at reminding him how alone and single he feels, and his shoulders slump as a small wave of sadness sweeps through him.
His thoughts hit an obstacle when his vision focuses back on Mike in front of him.
He leans down slightly and looks up at Will with a determined smile as he holds out one of his hands again, palm facing up. “May I have this dance?”
Silence spreads between the two of them as Will returns his gaze, incredibly confused as to what the hell is happening today. “Mike,” he begins, “what is up with you today?” No matter how weird and absurd all of this is to Will, he can’t help but giggle quietly.
Mike smirks smugly, staying very still in his position. “You’re upset, and I hate seeing you upset. Slow dance with me.”
How could Will ever refuse when it’s his Mike asking him that question? He couldn’t.
Will giggles again and rolls his eyes while shaking his head before tenderly placing his hand in Mike’s. His world stops when Mike brings their palms up to his face and, while holding eye contact, presses a soft kiss to the back of his hand.
His breath hitches in his throat at the intimate gesture, and Will’s eyes widen. “You don’t have to do that,” he whispers down at Mike, physically not able to take his eyes off of him.
“Want to,” is all Mike replies with a smile before he does it again, his lips carefully kissing Will’s hand. Only then does he straighten his back to stand up properly.
He gently pulls Will closer until their chests are ghosting against each other, and his other hand finds its place on the small of Will’s back. Will gulps and places his free hand on Mike’s shoulder, looking up at him shyly as he feels himself blush.
Mike doesn’t dance. Mike never dances. But as he begins to sway from side to side slowly, Will thinks that he’s made to slow dance with him.
That thought gets buried as quickly as it enters Will’s head. Mike simply wants to cheer Will up, and he’s doing a really good job at doing so. How could he not? Will loves him.
They dance together, bodies moving in sync. It feels overwhelmingly nice to be this close to Mike and to just let stuff like this happen. It just feels right. Especially because Mike keeps tenderly stroking his thumb over the back of Will’s hand, his motion never faltering or stuttering even once. It’s driving Will insane.
“Your hand is really soft, by the way,” Mike tells him warmly as he looks down at him. He’s still smiling, and the lights from the floor beneath them accentuate his features so beautifully that Will decides to commit the sight to his memory as best as he can.
“Thank you,” he replies and flushes. “I use hand lotion a lot.”
“It’s paying off really well,” smiles Mike. “Your skin felt really nice against my lips.”
Will sort of freezes at his words, his face growing impossibly hot. He watches as Mike grins, clearly noticing what sort of effect he has on Will. “You can’t just say stuff like that,” Will mumbles quietly, trying to look away but not being able to. Instead, he lowers his head slightly and looks at Mike through his eyelashes.
“Why not?” asks Mike. “You should get used to receiving compliments from men if you’re trying to date,” he reasons, and Will knows that he’s right.
It’s different because it’s you, though, he thinks. It’s not fair when you say that stuff to me.
He decides to roll his eyes and squeeze Mike’s hand. “Well, you could use lotion a little more often. Your hands are kind of dry,” he challenges with a grin.
Mike gasps dramatically. “How rude,” he says.
“Not rude if it’s nothing but the truth,” giggles Will.
Crisis effectively avoided.
Then, because the universe — and Mike — is just cruel to him, Mike decides to pull on Will’s palm until it’s right in front of his own face. He keeps his eyes on him as he kisses the back of his hand again, then lets his lips graze along the skin of it.
Never mind, Will guesses. Crisis in full motion. Abort, abort, get me out of here.
“But, hey. I did start using chapstick a lot when you told me to last winter. Because you said my lips looked really chapped,” Mike whispers against his hand, unaware of the fireworks going off in Will’s gut because of it. “So I might consider the hand lotion argument.”
Will tries not to die on the spot at the gesture. With the way his heart races while skipping every other beat, he can only pray there’s a medical professional somewhere in the club. Just in case he does pass away at the hands of Mike Wheeler.
There’s nothing he can do other than swallow thickly and stare, not trusting himself to do anything other than that. He’s afraid he might start laughing, or crying, or pull Mike in to kiss him silly.
“Are you feeling a little better than earlier?” Mike asks then, saving Will the trouble of coming up with some sort of response to whatever the fuck just happened.
What Will wants to reply is no, you keep frying my brain and I don’t know what’s going through your head. What he ends up doing is clearing his throat and rasping a quiet, “yeah. Thank you.”
Mike smiles widely at him, so soothing and warm that, maybe, he’ll make Will cry after all. “Of course,” he says. “I’m glad.”
He needs to find a way to get out of this situation. He can’t keep holding Mike’s hand while almost being flush against his body, or he might seriously suffer a life-threatening cardiac event.
“Do you want another drink?” he proposes quickly, carefully bringing their swaying to a stop. “It’s on me.”
“I’d love another drink, but you’re not paying for them,” replies Mike with a smirk. He’s not letting go of Will yet — his palm stays secure on his lower back while his thumb keeps stroking the back of Will’s hand.
If Will lets himself dream for a moment, he’d say that Mike doesn’t want to let him go.
“Pff,” Will scoffs and shakes his head playfully. “Okay, whatever you say, Mr. Ted Wheeler credit card.” He softly tugs his hand out of Mike’s and takes a small step back. He swears he sees the tiniest hint of disappointment crossing Mike’s face, but it’s probably just the low light playing tricks on him.
Mike chuckles quietly then and lets go of Will entirely, following him to the bar when Will leads the way.
✧ ✧
Will knows that Mike loves him.
Mike always makes sure Will is healthy. He makes sure he’s eating and drinking enough. He makes sure he doesn’t do too much heavy lifting and he makes sure to tell him to use his card to buy groceries. He cheers him up when he’s sad and smiles when he succeeds. Mike has always treated Will differently than he does his other friends, and Will loves the extra affection he gets from him.
However, he also feels like it’s trying to kill him.
Because Mike doesn’t love Will like that. He doesn’t love him the way Will does.
Will knows that Mike doesn’t love Will in the way that consumes him more and more every single day. Mike doesn’t wish for his love to disappear so he can breathe normally again. He doesn’t spend every passing second wishing that Will might love him back one day. He doesn’t cry himself to sleep at least twice a week because living with the knowledge that he’ll never get to have what he craves so badly suffocates him.
Will knows all of those things.
And yet he fails to pretend like Mike repeatedly kissing his hand doesn’t cause his carefully built walls to crumble in on themselves.
✧ ⋆ [Four] ⋆ ✧
When Mike kisses him for the fourth time a few weeks later, Will might as well ascend to the heavens.
They’re in the same club they were in last time, since Will wanted to give it another shot. After all, the atmosphere and vibe of the place were quite nice, and Will found himself wanting to go back. Maybe this time he’ll be lucky and find a man attractive and nice enough to date.
Will is a couple of drinks deep. He’s happy and tipsy, smiling to himself simply because he can. Since he’s in the mood to dance, he’s on the dance floor by himself. He had asked Mike whether he wanted to join before he went here by himself, given how Mike was so happy to dance with him the last time they were here. But he kindly declined and said that he doesn’t want to dance today, so Will smiled at him and shuffled away.
He’s alone on the colourful tiles now, surrounded by strangers that seem just as happy as he is himself. Will watches as the floor changes colour every so often, a soft blend of hues that illuminates the crowd beautifully. There’s something artistic in the way that everyone is dancing in light that comes from below instead of above. It creates a different kind of atmosphere, low and soft and soothing in a way.
As Will dances, his moves precise and calculated, he feels the alcohol take effect on his body. His vision goes the slightest bit blurry and his mind hazy, but not overwhelmingly so. He’s still able to stay in control of his limbs and the rest of his body, not making a fool of himself like some other people in the crowd.
His hips sway to the rhythm of the music, slow and deliberate. There’s this guy off to the side that he keeps locking eyes with. He’s incredibly handsome — he’s tall, has shoulder-length, dark hair, and knows exactly what he’s doing with the way he’s looking at Will through his glasses.
Even before Will noticed him, he had been feeling watched. The second he stepped foot on the dance floor and started moving, Will felt like there was a pair of eyes on him the entire time, watching him intently. He’s been trying to find the person that’s been staring at him, avoiding looking at Mike since he’s in no trouble and doesn’t need any help. When he finally found the guy grinning at him from the bar, Will couldn’t help but study him and smile back.
He’s exactly his type. And Will knows he has a nice body. And he’s dancing. Might as well make use of that.
Will begins to sway his hips in a way that he usually wouldn’t do, but there’s a handsome man watching him. Much to his advantage, the songs that keep playing allow him to get a little experimental — Will starts to roam his flat palms over his clothed chest, then down, down, down. He stops just shy from the waistband of his pants and looks up to see that the man still has his eyes on him. He’s now leaning against the bar, confidence radiating off him and knowing what Will is doing.
He grins as he keeps dancing, dragging his hands up his chest again and hiking his shirt up in the process. His lower stomach and chest are illuminated by the light of the floor tiles, and, as an artist, he knows that the sight is incredibly hard to look away from. Will begins to slowly spin in his spot while rolling his hips, grinning to himself and biting his bottom lip. When he finishes his slow twirl and looks back up to find the guy watching him, he smiles and contemplates whether he should walk over to him.
His thought process is quickly cut short as he watches the guy sliding his hand down his own body before he places it on his crotch and squeezes. He starts palming himself while keeping his eyes locked on Will, who suddenly feels sick to his stomach at the sight.
That’s not at all what Will was trying to do. Yeah, he wanted to put on a little show for him, but he wasn’t trying to get fucked tonight — he’s never trying to simply look for hook-ups. Will doesn’t do that. He never has, and he never will. He’s trying to date, not play pass-around-party-boy.
The feeling of disgust slams into Will hard and merciless. At the guy, of course, but also mostly at himself. He wants to get to know people, he doesn’t want to just be an object of sexual desire. Will doesn’t want to be used, he wants to be loved.
Will’s dance moves falter as he twists and turns to look for Mike, feeling sort of frozen to his spot. He’s scared the guy will follow him if Will were to leave now, so he just wants Mike to come and get him. Will is tipsy and worried and he just wants his Mike to protect him.
As he looks around desperately, he’s met with the worst case scenario; he can’t find Mike. He’s nowhere to be found. Will can’t see him at the booth he was at before Will went to the dance floor, and he made sure to position himself in a place where he could still see Mike if he needed him. Where Mike could see him as well.
But he can’t see him. Is he in the bathroom right now? Getting another drink? Did he meet someone himself and get distracted?
This has to be some sort of cosmic karma. But for what? Will always makes sure to treat others with kindness. What did he do to deserve being left alone in a situation like this?
He’s starting to panic and about to bolt and leave the club when he feels a pair of hands carefully grabbing his waist. Will startles hard at the sudden contact but relaxes as soon as the person presses close, because he could tell the smell and warmth and feel of him apart from a million people.
“Will,” Mike whispers right into his ear, and all of Will’s worries and fears melt away in less than a second. His voice is so low and quiet, but Will can still somehow hear him so clearly over the booming music vibrating in his head. “You’re okay.”
Will lets Mike turn him around until they’re properly facing each other, the guy now out of Will’s vision. Mike steps closer until their bodies press together, his body heat never failing to help calm Will down. Will’s hands come up to rest against Mike’s chest as he looks up at him, and Mike wastes no time in beginning to sway their bodies soothingly to the music.
“Mike, there’s this guy who — ”
“I know,” Mike interrupts, the tone of his voice in that dangerously low register. “I’m holding back from killing him.”
A surprised giggle bubbles out of Will at Mike’s harsh words. “Don’t do that, Mike,” he says and watches as Mike’s eyes lock onto the guy behind him. His eyes are dark and angry, and the sight does something funny in Will’s gut. “Is he still watching?”
Mike hums in response and pries his gaze off the guy, now training his eyes on Will. His expression immediately softens and they smile at each other, Will pressing a little closer and feeling Mike hold on to his waist tighter.
“It’s my own fault,” Will mumbles then, face falling into something resembling disgust with himself. “I should’ve known that that would happen. I shouldn’t have danced like that.”
“You can dance however you like, Will,” Mike says firmly. “That guy is a disgusting asshole who thinks that everything is an invitation. You weren’t even dancing particularly sexually. You did nothing wrong.”
“Hm,” Will hums and looks off to the side. A soft squeeze on his waist makes him look back up at Mike who smiles down at him, and Will can’t fight his own smile that forces its way on his lips. “Okay, yeah. You’re right.”
“Damn right I am,” grins Mike.
Will sees him avert his gaze to some spot behind him, and he swallows. “Is that guy still…?”
“Yeah, he’s still touching himself while staring at you. Let me kill him.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “No killing. My paladin is no use to me when he’s in prison.”
Mike looks down at Will again and smirks. “Guess we can’t have that,” he says before checking to see whether the guy is still there. “Do you want him to stop looking?” he asks softly, eyes warm as they look into Will’s.
Will makes an agreeing sound in his throat and nods as he peers up at Mike, keeping his body aligned with his to help their synchronised swaying.
They hold eye contact for a single second before Mike detaches one hand from Will’s waist and slowly brings it up before resting his palm on Will’s cheek. He lets his thumb stroke over the skin there, and Will’s eyes widen at the careful touch. Will leans into it without really meaning to, but it seems to be enough for Mike.
“Can I kiss you?” Mike whispers, holding Will oh so gently and securely.
“Yes,” answers Will in a quiet breath, his entire body heating up on the spot from anticipation alone.
And then Mike’s lips are on his, both of their eyes falling shut as soon as they make contact. It’s just a tender press of mouths, like they’ve done before to get rid of that other guy — Thomas? Will can’t remember — but it still doesn’t fail to set Will’s entire being aflame.
It’s just an innocent touch of lips until Mike begins to move his, and, holy shit, Will doesn’t think twice about it before he follows him. His hands slide up Mike’s chest until he can wrap his arms around his neck, and he uses it as leverage to help him stand on his tip toes. Will pushes closer to Mike and buries a hand in his hair, and it’s so soft in between his fingers that he wants to stroke it while Mike falls asleep with his head in his lap.
The pressing of their mouths becomes more brave the more seconds pass, and Mike slides the hand from Will’s cheek to his nape to pull him closer. The grip on Will’s waist tightens yet again, and he can’t help the small sound of satisfaction falling from his lips because of it.
Will can make out the alcohol on Mike’s lips. Something strong and bitter, whiskey maybe. He usually hates the taste of hard liquor, but since it’s Mike that he’s kissing, he could get drunk off of it. It makes his mind positively numb, his head clouding and screaming Mike, Mike, Mike.
As the kiss grows in intensity, Will finds himself wanting more. He wants to taste more of him and wonders how much Mike would let him take if he tried.
He doesn’t even get the chance to try anything before he feels the tip of Mike’s tongue shyly brush his bottom lip. Will starts to tingle all over and parts his lips slightly without having to be asked twice, and then Mike’s tongue is in his mouth. It nudges against Will’s own, and Will holds back from moaning at how long he’s been waiting to feel exactly this. He plays with Mike in his mouth, the kiss growing heated as their tongues dance and swipe around one another.
It’s obvious to him how greedy Will is getting. The hand in Mike’s hair grabs a fistful of it to hold him in place while his other arm tightens around his neck, wanting to be closer and closer and closer. It causes Mike to lean over him, Will having to bend backwards to accommodate for their height difference, but it’s the best thing he’s ever experienced. Back pain be damned.
Distantly, Will realises that he can’t be too selfish. He can’t just keep taking from Mike because he knows Mike will give it to him. Will can’t do that, it’s not fair.
It takes all of his willpower and more to pull away softly, and if he wasn’t so tipsy and drunk on the kiss, he would’ve noticed Mike chasing after his lips.
They breathe hard into each other’s faces for a few seconds with their foreheads touching before Will manages to force his eyes open. Mike is already looking at him, but at some point lower on his face. It seems that he only lifts his gaze to Will’s eyes once he realises that Will is watching him.
“Is he still looking?” Will whispers out of breath, still clinging on to Mike and praying that the disgusting creep is still there so he can keep kissing Mike.
Mike slowly lifts his head to scan the area behind Will, sighing shortly after, but it doesn’t sound like relief. “He’s gone,” replies Mike then, yet makes no moves to pull away.
It takes a few more minutes until Will feels able to let go of Mike, even if he does so against his will. His arms drop from around Mike’s neck down to his sides, and he enjoys the warmth of Mike’s hands on his nape and waist before they leave him a couple of long seconds later.
Will clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” Mike says in return.
They’re still standing somewhat close, and Will’s heartbeat threatens to break his ribs with how strong it is. He can still feel Mike’s heat against him, even if they’re not actively touching anymore. It’s the ghost of his hands and mouth on him, all the places that he’s touched and kissed him.
When Will finally manages to calm down a little more, and nods towards the exit of the club. “Home?”
Mike follows his line of sight and nods, eventually taking a proper step back. “Yeah.”
✧ ✧
It’s been years since Will found himself in situations in which he started to question certain types of behaviours from his best friend.
He has given up on reading into Mike’s actions years ago. Killed the hope that arose in his chest again and again — took it by the root and ripped it out, poured gasoline over it and set it aflame. Will doesn’t pray that Mike might love him back one random day anymore. He doesn’t hope to wake up one morning in Mike’s bed to realise that all the years of yearning have been nothing but a dream. He doesn’t go to sleep craving to be loved back anymore. He’s learned to live with what he has.
That doesn’t mean that he likes it, though.
Will wishes to stop loving Mike so he can finally feel the extra weight fall from his core.
As he stands in the ruins of the once sturdy walls built to protect himself, Will doesn’t even try to pretend that Mike properly kissing him leaves his defences disintegrating into ashes and dust.
✧ ⋆ [Five] ⋆ ✧
The fifth time happens because of all the other, previous kisses Mike surprised Will with.
Since that night on the dance floor, Will finds himself stuck with the memories of Mike’s lips on his. His hands on his waist as well as his cheek and his breath on his face. Mike’s eyes looking into his so intensely, and how their mouths fit together so perfectly as if they were made for each other.
Everything about that fucks with Will’s head.
It fucks with his head because of how unfair it is. It’s cruel to give Will a taste of what he’s been wishing to have for years. It’s cruel to let him graze it with his fingertips, only to rip it from his reach when he tries to grasp it properly. It’s unfair because Mike is doing it without knowing how much it’s killing Will on the inside, while he himself seems so indifferent about it.
Mike helps Will and looks so happy while doing it. He seems so pleased with himself whenever he gets to save Will from an uncomfortable situation. Will doesn’t understand why Mike looks so satisfied every single time, but it’s a look that suits him so stupidly well that Will can’t help but adore it.
It’s bad because Will finds himself wanting to get in situations that only Mike can help him out of. He wants to meet weird guys at this point just so Mike can come over, kiss him, and take him home.
Will knows that he shouldn’t be going out if his only intention is to get close to Mike. It’s not fair to anyone involved — the guys he may or may not meet, Mike, but most importantly himself.
He shouldn’t do it because he can’t hurt himself like that. Because he would compromise his own worth with it and everything he’s been trying to build for himself for years. He’s been trying to get over Mike for as long as he can remember, and he hates how all roads seem to lead back to him anyway. He’s even been thinking about going out without Mike again to avoid being set back by whatever might happen between them.
But Will is too nervous to go alone, and he knows how bad certain men can get with guys like Will. He’d rather be safe than sorry.
Yet, he can’t shake all of those thoughts as he stands off to the side with a sweet, alcoholic drink in his hand. His thoughts keep drifting towards Mike, and it takes everything within him not to let his line of sight follow.
Mike is not standing too far away, he knows that. He knows he’s being watched. It’s what Will asked him to do, and it would be stupid to assume that Mike didn’t follow his request to a tee.
There’s a guy standing with Will, chatting him up and clearly flirting with him. He’s slightly taller than Will, has a handsome outfit on, and is definitely confident. He smells good and knows how to do his hair, isn’t too drunk to slur his words but nurses a drink in his hand.
Will would definitely return the optimistic energy he’s shown if he could, but he can’t bring himself to.
It’s not because of the guy whose name Will can’t even remember. He introduced himself politely when he walked over and asked how Will was doing, but Will can’t seem to recall anything he says after as much as thirty seconds. It’s like his words pass through Will’s head without anything sticking, just in one ear and out the other. Will would normally be embarrassed by his own lack of attention, but he’s trying too hard not to cry so he doesn’t freak the guy out.
He feels unwell in a way he’s not sure how to describe. It feels like there’s a hollow spot in his chest that carved itself into his core, and he doesn’t know how to fill it, or what to fill it with. It’s some sort of dread spreading within him, choking him and making it hard to breathe properly.
Will really, really doesn’t want to randomly start crying in front of this guy.
The man is cracking jokes, and Will tries his best to laugh when he thinks he should. He nods at the right moments and smiles politely when he can, not trying to raise any suspicion that he really wants to get out of this situation.
Don’t get him wrong, it’s not the guy’s fault. He seems nice and interesting, but Will can’t bring himself to care about him fully. Will can’t even look at him for too long because then his smile feels too fake and he doesn’t want this poor man to see how close Will is to breaking down with no obvious reason whatsoever.
Calling Mike over is not something Will wants to do. He’s not in danger, and the polite man is not bugging him. He’s good at flirting, at least from what Will can properly catch, and tones it down when he notices Will not making any attempts back. It seems like he’s nice and aware of how to lead a conversation, and Will would love to enjoy this if he could.
Maybe dating is just not meant for Will. Maybe it’s not meant for boys like him.
Boys that have loved their childhood best friends their entire lives. Their love so big and strong it could single-handedly hang an unlimited amount of stars in the sky to light it up during the night.
Perhaps he should just give up on trying to date and accept the fact that he will be in love with Mike for the rest of his life, and that all of his love will just go to waste.
It’s an incredibly depressing thought, but one he’s been trying to ignore for years and years.
He doesn’t want to end up alone in the end.
Will doesn’t notice how he spaces out and how his eyes begin to fill with tears against his best efforts. Doesn’t register how the guy asks him if he’s okay and if he needs something. He disappears in his head while his vision goes hazy, and he uses the last reserves of his composure to press his quivering lips together to not let out a humiliating sob in the middle of this godforsaken bar.
It’s all too much, and Will can’t do it anymore. Any of it. The trying to get over Mike, the dating, Mike kissing him and acting like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He can’t stand Mike acting all sweet and caring with him if he won’t let Will let him go.
Only when a firm, warm grip squeezes his shoulder and a blurry silhouette forces itself into his view does Will snap out of it.
And there it is. Or, well — there he is. Mike, right in front of him, there for him, and the relief Will feels is something that only makes Will feel worse.
“What the fuck did you do?” Mike asks the guy standing by Will.
“I didn’t do anything!” he defends himself, hastily lifting his hands in surrender and nearly spilling his drink in the process.
Mike starts to say something else, seemingly trying to find out what happened, but his words get cut short when a choked sob from Will interrupts him. He whips his head back towards him, his expression softening immediately, and he’s quick to cup Will’s face gently.
“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” he asks oh so tenderly.
The tears begin to spill, Mike’s incredibly sweet words breaking the dam. Will starts to openly cry in this bar in front of this stranger and his best friend, and he wishes that he could just wake up from this nightmare, because it’s so fucking unfair.
“Come on,” Mike whispers then, pressing a careful kiss to Will’s temple. “Let’s go and get some fresh air.”
All Will can do is sob and nod, and Mike wastes no time in guiding him out of the building, no regard for the confusion written on the random guy’s face. He leads him around a corner and into an empty alley close by, and Will is quick to pace the length of it to try and calm down. He fans his face with his hands as he does his best to calm his breathing, but with his racing thoughts, it seems nearly impossible.
The fact that he didn’t even have to call Mike over for him to be there for him is something that breaks his heart in the best way possible. It makes him feel loved and cared for, the knowledge of Mike knowing him so well causing him to feel grateful and happy.
But that’s all it is. Mike looks out for Will because he’s his best friend. That’s it.
He cries harder, the tears wetting his cheeks and making his nose runny, and the fanning of his hands does nothing to help. It only makes the air hit his face harder, and it’s cold, and Will hates being cold.
Suddenly, there’s warm hands on his cheeks again just like inside the bar, and his eyes snap up to Mike who halts his pacing by holding him. Will’s palms gravitate towards Mike’s forearms to grip them, steadying himself and trying to ground himself with them.
“Will, what’s wrong?” Mike asks again, looking deep into his eyes and furrowing his brows on his forehead. His thumbs caress Will’s skin gently, wiping away the wet streaks and stopping new tears from making their way down his face.
And Will begins to break around sobs.
He says how dating never works out for him. That there’s only weird guys, or guys that only want his body, or guys who don’t care about his interests. Men who think it’s okay to touch him without permission and men that never care to stick around long enough to properly get to know him. Guys who only talk about themselves and men who don’t respect his boundaries and wishes.
Shares his deeply rooted fear about how no one could ever love him for who he is. That he fears he’s too fucked up from his past, and that no one could ever fully understand him because of it. How could they? How could they handle Will if Will can’t even handle himself most days?
Will cries that he doesn’t want to live his life all alone. Says how he wants to be loved and cared for without worrying that someone might just disappear one day because they don’t get him. He doesn’t want to pretend to be someone else to be loved.
Worries that he’s not worthy to be loved by someone else. Not if his heart is with someone he could never have. He’s scared he’s always going to love Mike, and he’s scared that it’ll destroy him.
The last part about Mike, Will doesn’t say out loud. He can’t.
His babbling gets cut short when Mike starts to kiss his tears away. Kisses the corners of his eyes, making Will close them and inhale shakily.
“No, Will, that’s not true,” Mike tells him quietly and presses his mouth to his forehead. “There is someone who understands you. Who just gets you, okay?”
Will’s bottom lip quivers as he tries not to cry more, because he simply doesn’t believe him. There will never be someone who loves him the way he is, he thinks.
“You’re so special and lovable, and don’t even think of disagreeing with me,” he continues, kissing his way down the right side of Will’s face and along his cheek and jaw.
Everything about this is absurd to Will, and he’s not quite sure if he wants to continue crying or if he should start laughing. Here Mike is, handling Will exactly how Will wants and needs it, and he doesn’t even seem to realise it. He’s holding and kissing him, tells him all these sweet things and reassures him that he’ll be okay. That there is someone out there for him while the only person Will has truly ever wanted stands right in front of him.
Mike presses a tender kiss right against the mole sitting just above Will’s lips, then tilts Will’s face until their mouths are ghosting against one another. “There is someone who loves you just as much as you love them,” he whispers, their lips brushing as he talks.
Will doesn’t want someone. He wants Mike.
His hands are still on Will’s face, cradling him carefully and making him feel so safe. So warm and fuzzy, calming him down no matter how much Will still feels like crying. Because Mike is right here, but Will can’t have him.
“Promise?” Will breathes, voice wavering and on the edge of breaking away, his eyes still closed.
“Promise,” he answers quickly, and he sounds so sincere and sure of his words that Will considers believing him for a second.
Speaking his promise makes their mouths brush again, so softly, just the hint of a touch. It sends tingles all throughout Will, and he wants to tug him closer by his arms to bridge the last distance between them.
Kiss me, Will wishes in his head. Please, Mike. Just kiss me again.
He wants their lips to touch properly so badly. He wants to kiss Mike, and he wants Mike to kiss him, and he wants them to kiss each other and have the other kiss back.
His mind is on a loop of kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, because he won’t do it himself. Will allows himself to want to kiss him, but he denies himself the chance to be the one to initiate it. That’s simply not something he can do because he’s in love with Mike, and he can’t be selfish and just take what he wants. He’ll only end up breaking his own heart more than it already is.
If Mike were to kiss him again, Will would let himself fall into it.
Mike doesn’t press his lips against Will’s. Instead, he takes a deep breath and tilts their heads until their foreheads lean against one another, and then he whispers again. Speaks in this quiet, soothing register that Will feels deep in his bones. So gentle it makes him want to turn his brain off, because he trusts Mike with his heart — even though Mike doesn’t know he owns it already, and has owned it all his life.
“I promise, Will.”
✧ ✧
Will remembers the words clearly, as if he spoke them just yesterday.
I’m not gonna fall in love.
Looking back, it’s probably one of the most wishful things he’s ever said. A statement that, in hindsight, seems so incredibly foolish that he would definitely change its essence if he could. Go back in time to alter his words just the slightest bit. Nothing crazy — just something a little more realistic and hopeful.
When I fall in love with someone one day, I hope they will love me back.
Will gathers the remnants of the restraints that once kept all his feelings for Mike under control, sweeps them aside, and accepts the fact that he will forever be in love with the boy he thinks he can’t have.
✧ ⋆ [Plus One] ⋆ ✧
He doesn’t remember the last time his mom picked him up, or the last time she tucked him into bed. Will doesn’t remember the last time when she read him a bed time story, or when she wiped his tears when he cried. Even the most mundane things, like her tying his shoes for him or packing his lunch for school.
Time just continued to pass, and he had failed to realise that those things eventually just… stopped altogether.
It pains Will that he wasn’t able to enjoy those things properly, given that he didn’t know there would be the last times during which he’d get to experience them.
Will stopped going to clubs and bars after that last incident between Mike and him in the alleyway. He told himself he wouldn’t try to date anymore, not talk to any more guys, and not get close to Mike like that again. Said he was done, didn’t want to try anymore, didn’t want to humiliate himself anymore.
Because every single time he ended up talking to someone, he couldn’t stop himself from looking for fragments of someone in the guys he spoke to that he wouldn’t find. He knew he wouldn’t, yet continued to do it anyway. Most men that interested him physically always looked a little too familiar. Their hair dark, eyes brown, stature slightly lanky but lean either way. Taller than him, smile warm, hands bigger than his.
He was looking for Mike in everyone he met.
So he decided to stop.
And it was fine. Really, it was.
Until a realisation dawned on him that made him feel like a little boy missing his mom.
Mike had kissed him all those times — his face, his hands, his lips. And Will feels like he didn’t cherish all of those times enough because, one, he didn’t know they were gonna happen in the first place, and two, because he didn’t know they’d stop eventually.
Which leads him back to a club around a month or two after that last time at the bar. He’s not sure how long exactly it’s been since then, since he made it a point to try and not obsess over Mike’s tenderness towards him.
It worked semi well.
Either way, he’s back in a smaller, more calm club. It’s not as loud and packed here, the lights soft instead of blinding, the music supporting the atmosphere instead of carrying it. The cocktails are done especially well here, and Will likes that he can’t taste the alcohol in his drinks.
He’s currently sitting in a booth off to the side, together with Mike. Of course he’s here with him. Mike didn’t question why Will stopped going out for weeks, didn’t ask him why. He only seemed to hover around him even more now, and it’s been making Will go kind of insane. When he asked Mike if he would be okay with joining Will in going out tonight, he had trouble reading his best friend for a few seconds. But Mike had put on a soft smile shortly after, nodded, and agreed to go with him.
Will knew he’d come along. He wants him to.
Tonight is going to be the last time that Will tries to meet someone. He’s doing it to make sure that he knows it’s the last time.
If he meets someone and gets talking to them, great. It’ll have worked out for him in a good way, then. He might even finally get over Mike.
If it doesn’t work out, however, he’ll call Mike over. And he hopes that Mike will properly kiss him to help him, and Will will kiss back with everything he has. He’d kiss him back and cherish the touch because he knows it would be the last time.
And, for once in his life, he wants to know that something good is going to end, even if it will break his heart.
No matter how tonight will end up playing out, Will will stop after. Stop going out, stop trying to date. Stop looking forward to Mike kissing him. It’s hurting him, and he can’t do it anymore, so he’s using this last time to end this.
They’re sitting in a booth together, just getting a couple of drinks in. Will is nursing some sweet drink while Mike has something more neutral. He’s been sort of quiet ever since Will asked him to tag along, not at all bouncy and happy like he’s been behaving these past few weeks.
But Will knows that Mike hates going out and does it for Will only, so Will chalks it up to that.
After a while and about two drinks, Will stands and shuffles out of the booth. “Alright, I’ll go over and sit at the bar for a bit,” he says. “You’ll be here?”
“Yes, always,” Mike replies while stirring his drink with his straw. He looks up then, giving Will a small smile. “You know what to do if you need me.”
Will nods in response and pretends that his words don’t make him float in potential anticipation. However, Will is currently more afraid of the fall that will come after than the exhilarating feeling of being able to fly.
He stalks over to the bar then, sitting down on a stool and ordering a new drink. The bartender prepares it quickly, sliding it over and telling him to enjoy. Will smiles and takes a sip, and then he turns to watch people enter and exit the club.
This time, he’s not upset when he doesn’t see anyone that catches his eye. He doesn’t feel hopeless and sad that he sits alone. Instead, he chooses to enjoy the atmosphere around him.
It doesn’t take too long until his drink is half empty and a stranger appears next to him, pointing at the bar stool next to Will.
“Is this seat taken?” he asks, and the sound of his voice alone makes goosebumps run up Will’s arms.
When he turns to look at the guy talking to him, Will’s mind goes blank, because holy shit, this man is hot.
He’s tall, handsome. Short hair that covers his forehead in dark brown waves. His eyes are dark but glisten in the soft lighting of the club, and Will finds himself sort of star-struck as he looks at him. There are tattoos all over his forearms, disappearing beneath the hem of his shirt and making Will wonder how far they go and where they end. They’re pretty, too, and Will can tell that a lot of thought went into every single piece decorating this stranger’s body.
“Uhm,” Will starts, forcing his eyes back up to his face. He sees the man smile, clearly trying to hide a small grin. “Uh, yes. Wait, no, it’s not taken,” he stammers, blushing hard. “Sit. What? Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
The guy chuckles and takes a seat next to Will who tries his absolute best to not hide his face in his palms. “Derek,” he says while smiling.
“Will,” Will replies shyly and takes his glass in both hands to have something to fidget with.
“Are you here all by yourself?”
“Uh, no,” Will says. “I’m here with a friend. What about you?”
Derek smiles. “I’m here with a couple of my friends, but I couldn’t just not come over when I saw you sitting here.”
The blush on Will’s face darkens, and he quickly hides his shy smile in his drink.
Then, they get talking. And, holy fuck, talking to a stranger has never been this easy.
Derek carries the conversation, asking questions and listening intently when Will answers. He doesn’t only talk about himself like most other guys Will has met did, and instead, he only replies to things that Will wants to know.
He’s two years older than Will and also an art major at a college close by. He doesn’t go to the same one as Will, but they find that they’re not too far apart. Their shared interest gives them plenty to talk about, and Will enjoys having someone who understands his hobby as much as himself.
It’s the first time in a long while that Will finds himself able to fall into something with a stranger without thinking about Mike all the time. In fact, he doesn’t think about Mike at all — instead, he smiles at Derek and laughs at his jokes like it’s the easiest thing in the world. His head and body feel positively light, and the alcohol in his system has nothing to do with it.
When Derek buys him a drink when his is empty, Will later returns the gesture and buys him one as well. It’s truly a breath of fresh air, and he’s genuinely happy about having gone out tonight.
Normally, Will would be incredibly cautious and wary while talking to someone he doesn’t know, but something about Derek makes him feel safe and secure. So, even when Derek reaches out to gently nudge the silver hoop adorning Will’s ear, he doesn’t flinch. In fact, he even turns his head and leans closer to give Derek a better view of the jewellery in his ear.
In turn, he asks to see his tattoos, and then Will is holding Derek’s arm to study the colourful ink decorating his skin. Derek tells him that it’s his own art that he got from a tattoo artist friend of his, and Will awes at how cool he thinks that is.
Everything is going so well, so perfect, that Will doesn’t even hesitate to write down Derek’s number when he asks if he could give it to him.
“I wanted to ask sooner than later because I don’t know when my friends might pull me away to leave,” he explains while smiling.
Will smiles back even wider and quickly notes his digits down. They keep talking happily and enthusiastically, and Will feels truly hopeful for the first time in months.
That is, until Mike comes over.
Suddenly, he stands there next to them. He only spares Derek a small, judgmental glance before he turns his entire body towards Will. “Can we leave, Will?”
Will turns to look up at him, his brows furrowing in concern. “Are you okay?” he asks, worried, having forgotten entirely that Mike was sitting off at the side and probably waiting for some kind of signal.
Mike doesn’t say anything. He simply nods.
“Then why do you want to leave?”
It’s quiet for a few seconds. Mike swallows and keeps his intense gaze on Will before his eyes flicker down onto his mouth. Will’s heart does an intoxicating somersault at the sight because, well, obvious reasons. Fuck.
Did Mike read the situation wrong?
“Excuse me for a second,” Will says to Derek, who just smiles a little confused in return. Will scrambles out of his seat then, grabs Mike’s wrist, and pulls him away a few steps. “I’m okay, Mike. Really,” he explains and holds on to Mike’s forearms reassuringly. “There’s no need for you to step in tonight, I’m having a really good time. Promise.”
“Can we still leave?” Mike asks after a few beats of silence, and his voice is quiet in a way that breaks Will’s heart. He sounds upset.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, worry lacing his words.
It’s quiet again between them then, and Will watches as Mike’s eyes ping-pong back and forth between his own. “Nothing,” he breathes eventually, “let’s just go. Please.”
Will’s brows furrow harder on his forehead as he studies his best friend. There’s clearly something going on in his head, but Will is having a really hard time reading him. Did he have too much to drink? Is he feeling unwell but refusing to admit it?
His thoughts get cut short when Mike’s hands come up slowly. His palms find their ways to Will’s cheeks, cupping his face gently while stepping closer. Will is still holding on to his arms, his grip tightening around them and his breath catching in his throat.
Kiss me, his heart says.
“Mike, what are you doing?” Will whispers as Mike narrows the space between them even more, and he watches as his eyes lock onto his mouth once more.
Mike doesn’t answer. He continues until their chests are almost flush against one another, and Will inhales sharply at the warmth between them.
This is what you wanted, his feelings say. Let him kiss you one last time. Please, just one last time.
The space grows smaller and smaller as Mike tilts Will’s face up while leaning down, and just before Mike can properly close the distance —
“Do not kiss me, Mike.”
Will sees and feels him freeze immediately. Then, he pulls away, takes a step back, and lets his hands fall. Will’s grip slips from his arms in the process, and he has to take a second to catch his composure.
He just told Mike not to kiss him. No matter how much he wanted him to, no matter how much he wishes to cherish his lips one last time. Will can’t.
It hurts, and Will feels something in his chest contract at the situation between them. But he can’t let Mike kiss him when there’s a serious, potential chance to get over him. Derek sits at the bar, waiting for Will to come back, and Will doesn’t want to waste the opportunity at getting to know someone who is this soothing to talk to. Who makes him smile and laugh so easily, who shares his hobbies, and who isn’t afraid to show his interest in Will.
The worst part about any of this has to be how incredibly hurt Mike looks.
How his expression falls into something painful, as if Will just told him life-altering news. Like he took something from him that he thought was his. Like he personally ripped his heart out of his chest and tore it apart.
And Will doesn’t understand why Mike looks the exact same way that Will has been feeling ever since he realised he is in love with him.
All of a sudden, Derek appears next to them, and he fidgets with his hands in front of him. “Hey, sorry, Will. I think it’s best if you don’t call me.”
Will’s head whips towards him, and then he’s shaking it quickly. Fuck, Derek definitely saw the entire thing. “No, I’m sorry. My friend’s just drunk and not feeling well, and — ”
“Please. Don’t call me,” Derek interrupts him and places a hand on his shoulder. “Have a good one, Will.” He smiles sadly as he starts to walk away, and the warm touch on Will’s shoulder slips away as he leaves.
All he can do is look after Derek with parted lips as he disappears in another area of the club, probably finding his way back to his friends. So here Will stands, with Mike in front of him who looks like a kicked puppy, and he feels something disgusting bubble up inside of him. Something he doesn’t experience often.
And especially not with Mike.
“Are you fucking serious, Mike?” Will says, voice loud and angry. “Didn’t you see that things were going well for me for once? Why did you do that?”
It’s been a while since Will has felt this furious. Everything within him is clashing all at once — his love for Mike, his hopes to date, the realisation that no matter what, no one will ever be him.
“Seriously, Mike. You tell me all that stuff, you give me hope and say I’m lovable and that there’s someone out there for me,” Will says harshly, driving a finger against Mike’s chest. “And when I finally get into a situation where I might believe all of that, you come and ruin it.”
“Will, I’m sorry — ” Mike tries, but gets interrupted immediately.
“Save it, Mike. You got what you wanted. I’m going home.”
Then, he turns on his heel towards the wardrobe. He gets his jacket and doesn’t exactly wait for Mike to retrieve his, just exits the building and starts walking back. Mike appears next to him a few seconds later, still in the process of shrugging his own jacket on, and the tension between them is something Will immediately hates.
He has no idea what’s going through Mike’s head, but he also doesn’t want to hear him talk. He’s angry with him, for reasons he thinks anyone would deem valid, and he shoves his hands deep into his pockets as he walks. Will doesn’t even glance at Mike once during their silence.
Nothing worked out tonight like Will thought it would. He didn’t get to properly meet someone, and he didn’t get to enjoy one last kiss with Mike. The fact that Mike was the one to interrupt Will’s conversation while Will was the one to refuse the kiss is something he tries not to think about, because his brain might combust at the absurdity of it all.
Mike tries to talk multiple times during their walk back. Asks to talk, asks to explain himself. But every single time he as much as opens his mouth, Will shuts him down and tells him to stay quiet.
Will explains in a harsh tone that he’s really frustrated and angry with him. Tells him he’s angry because Derek was incredibly nice and seemed to understand him well, and how he even asked him to give his number. How he made Will feel desired in all positive ways. He’s pissed because Derek told him not to call anymore, and how upset that makes him.
Every single time Mike tries to talk, his voice sounds more and more upset. He seems truly apologetic, but Will doesn’t want to look over at him to either confirm or deny that thought. He doesn’t want to look at him because he knows that his anger might just drain away in a matter of seconds, because it’s Mike.
It’s Mike, and Will loves him so much it hurts.
Will unlocks their apartment and steps in without a word, bending down to untie the laces of his shoes. He hears Mike walk in and close the door behind him, kicking off his own shoes quickly.
“Will, please, can we talk — ”
“No, Mike,” he interrupts him again, standing straight after shoving his shoes off and turning to look at him. “I don’t want to talk. You say and do all these things to me, and you’re always there to help, and the one time where things are going great you interrupt with no good reason.”
Mike looks at him and swallows, opening and closing his mouth as if he’s not sure what to say or how to voice his thoughts. Will would laugh at it if he wasn’t so frustrated, because normally, Mike is always quick to come up with a response. But now he stands by their apartment door, unable to form an answer, and something about it just makes it worse.
“Seriously, what is wrong with you?” Will asks, throwing his hands up. He fixes Mike with a mean glare. “What is wrong with you?”
“Will, come on, please — ”
“No!” Will raises his voice, hiding how much it startles himself. He pushes Mike until he hits the door behind him with a soft thud. “I don’t understand you! You’re so confusing all the time, and I can’t do it anymore!”
“Because you’re not letting me explain,” Mike protests quietly, looking down at Will with soft eyes and a pleading expression.
How can Mike stay so calm during all of this? How does he seem so collected and indifferent about anything that’s going on between them? It’s unfair, it’s so not fair and it makes Will want to cry because how is he supposed to handle any of this?
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t wanna hear it!” he counters. “You — ”
Suddenly, there’s a hand covering his mouth that keeps him from speaking. Mike is quick to turn them around until it’s Will’s back against the door with Mike tenderly keeping him against it. Will’s eyes widen at the sudden and quick movement, and he tries his best to ignore how that makes him feel.
“Jesus, can you let me talk for once? Fuck,” Mike breathes into the space between them.
Will draws his brows together and tries to shake his head against Mike’s palm over his mouth, the words he tries to speak getting swallowed immediately. He tries to wriggle away from his spot against the door, but Mike keeps him there easily. There is nothing he can do other than give up after a minute, and he rolls his eyes.
“Thank you,” Mike says as Will stops resisting. His hand slowly but surely uncovers his mouth but stays on his face, travelling towards his cheek.
His eyes stay on his own movement the entire time, and Will watches as Mike concentrates on grazing the skin of his face. Mike is being all sweet and gentle again, and Will wants to push and tell him off so badly, but how is he expected to do that when the touch feels so calming?
Mike carefully brushes a strand of Will’s hair behind his ear before splaying the size of his palm across his entire cheek, and Will has to hold back from sighing in content. Has to stop himself from leaning into the warmth, and has to stop himself from forgetting why he was angry in the first place.
When Mike’s eyes find his again, his other hand comes forwards to rest on Will’s hip.
“You’re so pretty,” Mike whispers, stepping closer and seeming to examine his face with more attention to detail now.
“Stop,” Will breathes, placing his hands on Mike’s chest and giving a weak push he knows he doesn’t mean.
“Don’t go out to clubs and bars and try to talk to guys anymore,” he says then, eyes looking upset, yet hopeful.
“What?”
“I don’t want to go out with you and see you get hurt all the time.”
Will rolls his eyes, his anger bubbling up once more. “I wasn’t getting hurt, Mike,” he snaps. “You interrupted a perfectly fine thing. I was having fun for once. He even gave me his number, and — ”
“Don’t call him.”
The words catch him off guard, causing him to blink repeatedly. “What?”
“Don’t call him, Will,” Mike just repeats, his thumb brushing over his cheek.
A scoff makes its way out of Will’s mouth before he can stop it, and he finds himself rolling his eyes again. “Well, you kind of made sure that he doesn’t want me to call him anymore.” The tone of his voice is harsh, mean. He’s angry, he’s frustrated, and all of it has to do with Mike and Mike only.
How do all roads keep leading back to him?
Silence stretches between them. Will’s hands rest loosely on his chest while Mike’s are on his face and hip, and he’s not sure how to understand it all. It’s all so absurd and confusing and unreal that he wishes he could just snap his fingers and make it all stop.
The apartment is quiet, safe for the noises of their breathing. Will feels the air Mike exhales out of his nose fan across his face, and it’s warm. Mike’s hands are, too, and he so desperately wants to lean into the heat because it’s all he’s ever wished for.
But that would be selfish. Will told himself he wouldn’t be selfish, other than for the possibility of kissing Mike back tonight if he were to initiate it.
He did. He leaned in to kiss Will. If Will had hesitated a second longer before stopping him, his lips would’ve been on his.
Will told him not to kiss him. It’s something he never thought he’d do, given how many days he spent wishing for nothing more than that. A simple kiss. And he just wanted to experience it one last time, and he could’ve had that, but Mike was being weird and interrupting Will’s only real chance of getting to know someone else.
“Will,” Mike whispers.
Only then does he notice that Mike’s gaze is no longer on his eyes, but lower again. Mike is looking down at his mouth again, like he has done in the past more times than Will can count.
“What?”
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice tender and quiet. “Please, let me kiss you.”
The words punch all air out of Will’s lungs, and his breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t reply, just freezes, because why is Mike asking to kiss him when there’s no reason for him to?
“One last time, Will. I swear I’ll try to stop after that, just please, Will. Let me kiss you one last time.”
With a shaky inhale and a wavering voice, Will asks, “stop what?”
Mike finally looks him in the eyes again, then. “I promise I’ll try to stop wanting to kiss you.”
Want. Mike said want. Wanting to kiss you.
He wants to kiss him?
“What?” is all Will manages to stammer out, mind racing a hundred miles a second.
It feels like Will’s entire world is falling apart at the seams, because what the hell is happening? What are they doing, and what is Mike saying? How much did he drink while Will was talking to Derek, and is he really feeling okay?
A sigh falls from Mike’s lips, and he shakes his head. “I don’t want you to go out anymore, Will. I don’t want you talking to guys and flirting with them. I don’t want you to smile at them and laugh at their jokes. They don’t deserve you, Will,” Mike rambles quickly. “I hate pretending to be your boyfriend. I hate having to get you out of uncomfortable and dangerous situations. I hate it.”
Oh.
So that’s it. Mike feels weird pretending to be his boyfriend. No, not even just that — he hates it. He hates doing that for Will.
And here Will is, having thought that Mike would gladly do anything for him. Did Will really fail to see how badly Mike disliked going out with him? Would Mike have preferred it if he went out alone?
Will feels like he’ll never find anyone because he only wants Mike. And now he finds out that Mike has been doing things for him even if he hated them. Is Will really such a bad friend? How could he not have seen that Mike felt uncomfortable during it all?
What’s even more unfair, Will thinks, is that he finds out about it so late. He thought they’d tell each other everything. He trusted Mike to let him know if he ever wanted to stop going out with him. But he did every time — he joined him on his nights out, and he helped him if needed.
He kissed him, for god’s sake.
He kissed him, only to now tell him how much he hated doing it?
Tears prick at Will’s eyes, and he tries his best to keep them from falling. “You know what? Good,” Will forces out, no matter how much it hurts. “Because I hate it, too. You don’t need to pretend to be my boyfriend anymore. I never want you to — ”
“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” Mike interrupts him with.
“I gathered that,” counters Will, feeling more tears well up. “I hate it too, if you hate it so much. In fact, I — ”
“No, Will, you’re not understanding what I’m saying,” he sighs.
Will presses his quivering lips into a thin line and rolls his eyes. “Could you please stop interrupting me?”
Mike shakes his head, the hand on Will’s hip coming up to rest on his other cheek. He’s fully cupping his face now, and he tilts it up to force Will to look at him clearly. “I don’t want to pretend anymore, Will. I don’t want to pretend to be your boyfriend anymore.”
He throws his hands up in frustration, feeling a sob build in his chest. “I know! I understood that much, you don’t have to repeat it the entire time!” He clenches his palms into fists then, desperate for something to ground himself with. His bottom lip starts to shake harder, and he gives another weak push against Mike’s chest.
“Hey, please don’t cry,” Mike whispers, stepping even closer and pressing his lips to his forehead. “I’m sorry, baby. Please don’t cry.”
And there it is again. Mike being sweet and caring with him despite there being no need for him to. They’re in the safety of their apartment, and Mike just called him baby anyway, and it makes Will want to throw up.
“I’m sorry, Will,” he breathes before kissing the tip of Will’s nose. “I do, Will. I do.”
“You do what?” Will asks, his vision blurry and his chest tight.
“I get you. I understand you. I know how to handle you on your good and bad days. I know how to take care of you and how to care for you, Will,” Mike explains softly, pressing kisses over his entire face as he talks. His temple, his cheeks, the space between his eyebrows. His jaw and his chin, the corners of his eyes.
The mole right above his lips.
“I can’t stand seeing you with all of those guys anymore. It’s breaking me.”
“Mike, what?” Will asks wetly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Mike chuckles quietly. “God, you’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?” he says, resting his forehead against Will’s. “I am so devastatingly, head-over-heels in love with you, Will Byers.”
It goes quiet in Will’s head. No anger, no worries, no hopes and no dooming thoughts. Not even static. Just silence.
He stares up at Mike, his eyes so wide that he’s sure he looks like he’s on all kinds of drugs. Honestly, he might be, because his childhood best friend who he’s been in love with ever since he can think just told him that he loves him back?
It’s eerily silent between them. Will wants to laugh, and he wants to cry, and he wants to punch Mike and tell him to stop lying. That it’s not funny to play with his feelings like that. He wants to pull him down and kiss him, ask him why he’s only telling him now. Will wants to sink to the floor in a ball and wake up from this dream because there’s no way this is real.
“And maybe I’m completely deranged, so please tell me if I am,” Mike continues to mumble as he gently nudges his nose against Will’s. It causes Will’s eyes to flutter shut, and he instinctively tilts his head up until he feels Mike’s lips ghost against his own. “But I think you might be in love with me, too.”
Everything melts out of Will’s entire body at his words. The pain. The tears and the sobs. The days he spent wishing for Mike to love him back and the days he didn’t. His shoulders slump and he sags his weight against the door, years worth of tension draining out of him in a matter of seconds.
Will makes a decision then.
“Mike,” he all but breathes. “If you really mean everything you’re saying…” He trails off shortly, keeping his eyes closed and fisting the fabric of Mike’s jacket at his chest. “Then kiss me.”
This is it. This is Will’s only attempt at asking for what he truly wants. He still refuses to be the one to close the distance, he refuses to be the one to jump the gap. He needs Mike to do it, needs him to prove the truth of his words.
Nothing happens. Will swears he could hear a pin needle drop if he had one available right now. Mike’s soothing motions of his thumbs against Will’s cheek come to a halt, and something about it makes Will’s stomach drop. Maybe —
“Open your eyes,” Mike whispers against his lips. “Look at me.”
So Will does. His eyelids flutter open until he can look up at Mike, and then he grabs Will’s face a little firmer in his hands.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he continues whispering. “And if you choose to kiss me back, I’m sorry, but I’ll never let you leave my side again. Not even once. No matter where you go, I’ll follow. I need you to understand how crazy I am about you. Okay?”
All Will can do is nod with wide eyes.
Mike mirrors his motion, nodding as well, and then he smiles softly. One of his thumbs caresses Will’s skin again, and his gaze travels low in Will’s face.
A second or two after, he leans in. Will closes his eyes again, grasping Mike’s jacket tighter, and waits for the moment for their lips to meet. Only, they don’t.
He feels Mike press his mouth right above the left corner of his own instead.
“I love this mole,” he murmurs softly against it. Then, he drags his lips slightly lower and to the side, causing them to brush against Will’s. “I love you.”
And then he kisses him.
It’s slow, it’s tender, it’s careful. He moves with such caution that it causes Will to melt into it, and it comes with no surprise when he kisses Mike back almost immediately.
Mike makes a sound in the back of his throat, something like relief and something like solace. Like Will is doing something Mike didn’t think he would, despite him saying that he feels like Will might love him back.
Will notices as Mike presses closer instantly, their chests now flush, and Will has no other option than to wrap his arms around his neck. He pushes himself up on his tip toes, deepening the kiss and pushing against Mike to make him feel how much he means it.
They’re kissing, and they’re kissing, and they’re kissing. They’re kissing against their apartment door until Will’s hands find their way into Mike’s hair and until Mike sighs into Will’s open mouth when he parts his lips. They kiss until they’re breathless but refuse to pull apart anyway, and they kiss until they’re shrugging each other’s jackets off without a care in the world. They don’t stop kissing even when both of their faces are wet and when their knees begin to buckle.
They’re kissing until they’re lost in each other and in their own little world, and they don’t stop kissing until they’re both sure they’ll never stop feeling this way.
✧ ✧
Will Byers is in love with Mike Wheeler.
To Will, that statement is as obvious as saying the earth couldn’t properly exist without the sun and the moon. It’s just second nature, something that has to exist in order for him to feel complete. It’s impossible to think away, because Will wouldn’t be Will if he didn’t love Mike.
✧ ✧
Loving Mike is the easiest thing Will has ever done. It’s also, truth be told, the most rewarding thing he’s ever done.
Getting to love his boyfriend openly without restraints makes him feel as alive as he’s never felt before, and it’s a sensation he cherishes and keeps close to his heart. Will has never felt as free as he does nowadays, because he knows he can look at Mike every single day and be looked at the same way. He knows he can love him and be loved right back. Will knows that there is no higher power threatening to take his love away, because Mike is always right there to make sure that he never forgets how much he wants him by his side.
✧ ✧
Will knows that Mike loves him.
It’s obvious that he does. He takes care of him in every imaginable way. Be it by making him breakfast, or reminding him to drink water and take breaks while he paints, or simply cuddling him and running his fingers through his hair. He shows his love by kissing him nearly every second of every day, and by never letting the vase of their living room table stand empty.
It’s obvious that Mike loves him because Will has never felt alone once since they confessed to one another. Because it looks like their love consumes Mike in the best way possible. Because it seems that Will is the energy he needs to live, and because Mike never misses a day where he tells him exactly that. But especially because Will has never been happier in his entire life to be in love with Mike.
✧ ✧
It’s been years since Will and Mike got together, and there has never been a situation in which Will had to question whether Mike loves him any less than he did the day before.
Mike planted a seed in Will’s heart and cares for it every single day, careful to not accidentally tug on it even the slightest bit. Mike loves him every single day. Will wakes up every single morning next to Mike with the realisation that all their years of shared love are the best years he’s ever gotten to experience. He goes to sleep each night with his fiancés arms around him and a goodnight kiss, knowing he’ll wake up with a good morning kiss and be loved just as much as the day before.
Will loves what his life has become.
✧ ✧
Will remembers the words clearly, as if he spoke them just yesterday.
I am so devastatingly, head-over-heels in love with you, Will Byers.
Looking back, it’s one of the most beautiful sentences he’s ever heard in his entire life. A statement that, in hindsight, feels like a dream come true. Because honestly, it is. There’s not a single fibre in his body that would ever go back to change those words being spoken to him, since they led to another moment in his life which he’ll never forget. More words that Mike said through tears and sobs in front of their families and friends. Words that Mike repeated back to him because Will said them as well.
I do.
✧ ✧
Will stands on a newly built foundation now.
There are no suffocating walls surrounding him, no confines that mean to trap his emotions. Nothing to imprison the love he has felt for his childhood best friend ever since he was a kid. It’s a house, and when he looks to the side, his husband is right there with him. He’s holding his hand, and he’s smiling, and he helped build this new safe space that will nurture their love for each other and support it grow.
Mike tugs him towards himself in their soon-to-be home, wrapping an arm around his waist with ease. He lifts Will’s hand and presses a kiss right onto his wedding ring, then the back of his hand. He smiles wide as he kisses all over Will’s face — his temple, his forehead, his nose and his cheeks. He never forgets to kiss Will’s mole, too.
“I love you so much, my baby,” Mike tells him.
“I love you,” Will replies before leaning up to kiss him properly.
✧ ✧