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“You seemed pretty excited to go to that party, Will.”
Mike said it like it was nothing. Like it hadn’t been sitting in his chest for the last hours, like he hadn’t replayed the way Will’s face had lit up when Stacy mentioned them and party in the same sentence.
They were alone in the Wheeler’s dining room now. Will looked up from where he was stacking plates, sleeves pushed up, his hair falling into his eyes the way it always has been recently.
“Yeah– I mean.” He hesitated, then laughed under his breath. “We never really got invited before.”
“Yeah. Guess not.”
Will slid the last plate into the sink and turned to face him. “We didn’t have to go,” he said quickly. “It’s probably just loud. And– you know. People.”
Mike scrubbed at the table with the rag, even though it was already clean. The thought of Will not going–of that quiet disappointment settling back into him–made him spit out the next words, with our thinking too much.
“We can still go, you know?”
Will blinked. “What?”
“To the party.” Mike shrugged, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “We can still go.”
“But the others already left,” Will said. “And… it wasn’t really us who got invited. It was Dustin.”
Mike scoffed. “Come on, Dustin invites himself places without us all the time. This evens it out.” He hesitated, then added, softer, “It’ll be fun. It will.”
He watched Will’s face light up in an instant.
“Okay, but wait,” he said suddenly, frowning a little. “Should I– should I change?”
“What?”
“I mean,” Will gestured vaguely at himself, suddenly self-conscious. “This is just– I don’t know. Maybe I should– ”
“No,” Mike said immediately.
Too immediately. He cleared his throat, heat creeping up his neck. “I mean– no. Why would you? You’re fine.”
“Fine?”
Mike looked him up and down again, more deliberately this time, and this time he didn’t stop himself from staring a beat too long.
“You look good,” he said with confidence and suddenly felt very aware of how quiet the room was, how loud his heartbeat sounded in his ears. He laughed awkwardly, trying to play it off. “Like– good-good. Not, uh–” He waved a hand. “You know.”
Then Will smiled.
“Yeah, I do,” he said. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Mike exhaled, not realizing he’d been holding his breath.
Stacy house was… a lot.
Mike registered it in fragments as they stepped inside: music thumping through the walls, people everywhere, laughter bouncing off the high ceilings. Someone had strung white lights along the staircase railing, and they glowed softly against the dark wood like something out of a movie. The living room furniture had been pushed back to make space, and people filled it–dancing, talking, existing too loudly.
Will hovered at Mike’s shoulder, close enough that Mike could feel the heat of him. That was new. Or maybe it wasn’t, and Mike was just noticing how warm Will was now.
They stood there for a moment, neither of them moving, until someone bumped into Mike’s arm and muttered an apology before disappearing back into the crowd.
“So,” Mike uttered. “Uh. This is… the party.”
Will huffed out a quiet laugh. “Thank you, Michael. I noticed.”
“You wanna–?” Mike gestured vaguely. “Like. Walk around?”
“Sure,” Will said. “Yeah.”
They drifted forward together, unsure where they were supposed to go, nodding at faces they vaguely recognized from school. Even Stacy waved at them from across the room, already flushed and smiling too wide.
They did one slow lap around the downstairs, neither of them really talking. Every conversation felt like it was already in progress, every group closed in on itself. For Mike, it was nothing new – showing up late to something everyone else had already started.
Eventually, they found themselves in the kitchen.
It was somehow worse there–packed shoulder to shoulder, the counters cluttered with red plastic cups and half-empty bottles. Someone had spilled something sticky near the sink, and the air smelled like soda and cheap alcohol.
Will leaned in slightly. “Do you want a drink?”
Mike glanced at him, unsure. “You?”
“I mean…”
They’d drunk before. A couple of beers stolen from someone’s garage fridge, a shared bottle passed between them on a cold night when no one was really trying to get drunk.
“Okay,” Mike said. “Yeah, we should. But– like. Not a lot.”
“Obviously,” Will said and his eyes rolled playfully.
Mike almost laughed. He could see it in Will’s eyes that he wanted to get wasted.
They grabbed cups and poured something that looked more like juice than alcohol. The first sip burned faintly, warm and sweet, and
They found a small corner near the back door, leaning against the wall where they could talk without bumping into anyone constantly. The music throbbed behind them, and Mike’s chest began to loosen.
Will tilted his head, cup in hand, and grinned at him like he had a secret. Mike realized the liquid courage was already doing its work.
“You ever… just dance?”
Mike blinked. “Uh… not really.”
“Come on. With me.”
Before Mike could react, Will pushed off the wall and started moving.
And one thing Mike Wheeler didn’t know, was that Will Byers was a dancing queen.
He was wild. Carefree. Twirling, hands in the air, hair bouncing with every step. Mike froze, watching him. He had never– ever– seen Will like this. Not so bold, not so loud, not… unafraid. Will, the kid who’d always been careful, the one who hovered near the edges, suddenly owned the room.
Mike felt something twist in his chest, equally awe and panic. He couldn’t pull his eyes away. Will was beautiful like this, radiant and alive in a way that left Mike breathless.
But he couldn’t stare for too long. After six or seven songs, some girl pressed too close to Will for Mike’s liking.
His brain didn’t process it logically–he didn’t even think to name the feeling–but his body reacted instantly. He couldn’t stop himself from stepping between them.
He ran up, heart thudding in his ears, and grabbed Will’s hand, tugging him just a fraction closer – insisting, wordlessly, that Will remain his, even if only in that dizzy, tipsy moment. Adrenaline burned through him, making his fingers tighten like he was holding onto more than just Will’s hand.
“Hey, let’s get a drink!” Mike shouted, holding up his empty cup as a pathetic excuse.
Will laughed, swaying slightly, letting himself be led, oblivious to the feeling in Mike’s chest, and the strength in his grip.
And Mike… Mike held on. He held onto Will the entire way, arms taut, grip firm, like letting go of him was suddenly impossible.
The thought never fully surfaced: the strange, sudden, unreasoned possessiveness, the heat of jealousy. He didn’t think of it as jealousy–he wouldn’t have been able to name it if he tried–but it tingled anyway, prickling under his skin.
Will, blissfully unaware of the tiny panic storm he’d just triggered, twirled slightly in place, laughing, and Mike’s heart did that impossible flip again, hearing the sound.
By the time they were safely away, weaving toward the quieter back of the kitchen with Will laughing and sipping from his cup like nothing had happened, Mike realized he still hadn’t released his wrist. His hands were sticky from the drink, warm from Will’s touch, and every nerve ending was awake and buzzing.
They didn’t know exactly how, but soon they found themselves at the table, playing some card game that probably had no rules at this point. Cards were dropped, beer spilled over them, people arguing about whose fault it was. Mike laughed until his sides hurt, until he couldn’t catch a breath.
He caught Will glancing at him, eyes bright, unfocused in a way that made his stomach flip.
“What?” He asked, still laughing.
Will shook his head. “Nothing. You’re just– ” He stopped himself, pressing his lips together. “Never mind.”
Mike squinted at him. “No, go on. You were gonna say something.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Will laughed, the sound spreading warmth in Mike’s belly. “Okay, fine. You’re just… more loose than usual.”
Mike scoffed. “I am not.”
“I’m just saying. You’re having a good time. I like it.”
Mike opened his mouth to argue but then paused. Considered it. Thought about the buzz in his head, the way the music didn’t feel quite so overwhelming anymore, the fact that Will was sitting close enough that their arms brushed every time one of them moved.
“…Okay, maybe I am,” he admitted.
Their knees touched under the table.
Neither of them acknowledged it. Mike focused very hard on the deck of cards being shuffled in the center of the table. But he knew his knee was warm where it pressed against Will’s, and the contact felt… intentional.
“Whose turn is it?” someone asked.
Will leaned in closer to the table, their shoulders brushing now too. “Yours, I think.”
Mike swallowed, not because of the shitty cards in his hand.
Under the table, Will’s foot nudged his.
Accidentally, Mike told himself. Totally accidental.
But Will didn’t move his foot away.
They talked to other people– really talked, in that rambling way that only happened when everyone was too tipsy to overthinking anything. Mike told a story how once Steve mistaken him for Nancy. Will laughed so hard he had to cover his mouth. Then Will talked about an art class project that had gone horribly wrong, gesturing wildly as he explained, his hands brushing Mike’s arm again and again.
Each touch felt like a spark.
“Hi, guys.”
“Jesus Christ– ” Mike startled when, at some point, Stacy herself appeared behind them.
“Calm down, Wheeler. You two having fun?” she asked, grinning.
“Yeah,” Will said easily. “It’s great.”
Mike nodded. “Yeah. Totally.”
Stacy looked between them, eyebrow quirking like she was clocking something Mike very much did not want her to be clocking. “Cute,” she said, and then stood up again before Mike could ask what she meant.
“What was that about?” Mike muttered.
Will shrugged, but his ears were pink. “I don’t know.”
And then, under the table, Will’s foot brushed Mike’s again. This time, it definitely wasn’t an accident.
Mike’s breath hitched. He glanced sideways, catching Will watching him from beneath his lashes.
“You okay?” Will asked, voice innocent.
Mike nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Fine. I’m fine.”
Will’s foot pressed more firmly against his ankle this time and Mike’s brain short-circuited.
“You know what?” he said. “I think this drink is stronger than it looks.”
Will laughed. “You’ve had, like, six.”
“So have you!”
“Yeah, but I’m clearly handling it better,” Will teased and the room felt warmer. Or maybe that was just Mike.
“You know what? I’m glad we came,” Will leaned closer and said quietly, into his ear.
“Yeah.” He gulped at the unexpected proximity. “Me too.”
There was something in the way Will said it– like it meant more than just the party. Like it meant being here with Mike.
Mike only.
Under the table, Will’s foot slid up Mike’s calf. Mike’s heart slammed against his ribs.
“Will–” he said, and then stopped, because he didn’t actually know what he was going to say.
Can you stop doing whatever you’re doing? Can you stop making me feel like this?
“Yeah?” Will’s voice was sweet, too sweet, but Mike could tell it was deceptive.
Mike shook his head. “Nothing. Just– ”
Just what?
Just you’re different. Just I can’t stop looking at you. Just you need to stop touching me.
Instead, he took another sip of his drink. “Nothing.”
They didn’t really decide to leave the party so much as they drifted out of it.
One second they were laughing too hard at something that absolutely wasn’t funny, and the next they were standing on Stacy’s front lawn, the cool night air hitting their flushed faces like a splash of water.
Mike stumbled slightly, catching himself on Will’s shoulder. “Whoa.”
Will steadied him without hesitation, fingers curling into the fabric of Mike’s sleeve. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Mike said, grinning. “I just– the ground moved.”
Will snorted. “Sure it did.”
They stood there for a second, the house behind them pulsing with music and voices, lights glowing through the windows like a different universe. Mike looked at it, then back at Will.
“Hey,” he said, sudden and serious. “What if we just… didn’t go back in there?”
“What?”
“I mean,” Mike waved a hand vaguely, nearly losing his balance again, “we could go back to my place. Play D&D.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “You are way too drunk to be a competent storyteller.”
Mike gasped, offended. “Excuse you. I am always competent.”
Will laughed, head tipping back. “You know you’re not. You’re drunk.”
Mike grinned, unabashed.
“Oh come on, Will. You know we’re not actually going to play anyway, right?”
There was something giddy in Will’s smile when Mike said these words. Like the idea itself– ditching the party, choosing something smaller and theirs– was exciting enough.
“Okay,” Will said finally “Yeah, let’s go.”
And just like that, they were off.
They didn’t walk so much as weave down the sidewalk, shoulders knocking, hands brushing, laughter spilling out of them in uncontained bursts. Mike spun once for no reason at all, arms out like he was trying to fly.
“Mike,” Will said, laughing. “Stop it, you’re going to fall.”
“Am not.” Mike pointed at him. “I have excellent balance.”
He immediately tripped on a crack in the pavement and would’ve gone down if Will hadn’t grabbed him around the waist, pulling him back upright. Mike’s hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure where to land. Will’s grip lingered, Mike could feel his breath against his neck.
“You okay?” Will asked.
Mike nodded, throat suddenly dry. “Yeah.”
Will let go slowly, like he was reluctant to break the moment. When he stepped back, Mike felt the absence like a drop in temperature.
They kept walking.
“Oh god, man… Can you imagine this?” Mike tilted his head back and shouted, “WE GRADUATED TODAY!”
His voice echoed down the empty street.
Will startled, then burst out laughing. “Mike! Shut up!”
“We’re adults now! Going to college” Mike continued, undeterred. “We can do whatever we want!”
“Your parents are going to kill you, when you show up like this,” Will said, grabbing his arm.
Mike turned to him, eyes bright, opening his mouth dramatically slow, about to scream out some more nonsense but Will knew what was coming.
For one second, there was nothing but the heat of Will’s palm against Mike’s lips. The faint smell of soap and something sweet. The way Will’s eyes widened slightly, like he hadn’t meant to do that, like he was suddenly very aware of what he’d done.
Oh.
Oh.
Electricity burned through Mike’s chest. His heart thudded loud enough he was sure Will could hear it. Will’s thumb twitched slightly, right at the corner of Mike’s mouth.
Neither of them breathed.
Then Mike, because he was tipsy and eighteen and had apparently lost all sense of self-preservation, flicked his tongue out and licked Will’s palm.
Will yelped, jerking his hand back like he’d been burned. “Oh my god, that’s disgusting!”
Mike laughed so hard he had to bend over, hands on his knees. “You put your hand on my mouth!”
“That doesn’t mean you can lick it!”
“You told me to shut up!”
Will rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him. “Come on,” he said. “Before you embarrass yourself more.”
They reached Mike’s house breathless and giggling, fumbling with the keys like it was a complex puzzle. When the door finally opened, Mike pushed it a little too hard.
It slammed shut behind them with a bang that echoed through the quiet house.
Mike froze. “Oh fuck!” He turned to Will, eyes wide, finger to his lips. “We need to be quiet,” he whispered it at full volume.
Will’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “You’re so bad at keeping quiet. You just yelled again.”
“I didn’t yell. I whispered loudly.”
Will snorted, then covered his own mouth, trying not to laugh too loud.
They kicked off their shoes and crept toward the basement door, still buzzing, still not quite able to stop smiling at each other.
The stairs loomed steep and shadowed.
Will peered down. “These look… very dangerous. Have they always been like this?”
Mike scoffed. But then h took one step forward and immediately wobbled.
“Okay. Maybe… we hold on to each other.” Mike reached his hand out. “For safety.”
They descended slowly, hands gripping sleeves, then wrists, then– somewhere between the third and fourth step– each other. Will’s hand slid into Mike’s, fingers tangling without hesitation.
It felt natural. Too natural.
By the time they reached the bottom, they were practically pressed together, breathing the same air.
Mike became extremely aware of everything at once. The dim light from the lamp by the couch. The smell of old carpet and laundry detergent. The fact that Will was right there. Close enough that Mike could see the little freckles near his collarbone. Close enough that he could count Will’s eyelashes if he wanted to.
The basement was quiet.
Will looked up at him, eyes searching for his in the dark. “We, uh,” he said. “We’re here”
Mike swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re here.”
His brain felt fuzzy, but his body was painfully sober. He could feel Will’s pulse under his fingers. The warmth of him. The way he leaned in just slightly, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. For a moment, the world narrowed to the space between them.
Mike thought, distantly, that this felt important. Like something that would echo later in his head, no matter what happened next.
Will’s gaze flicked to Mike’s mouth, just for a second.
Mike’s brain felt like it was floating several inches behind his head, pleasantly useless. Thoughts drifted in and out, untethered. But one thought– one overwhelming thought– refused to leave his mind.
Will is so close.
Mike had seen Will a thousand times before. Had known him since they were kids, since scraped knees and basements and drawings taped to walls. He knew Will’s face in every light, every mood.
But this–
This was different.
Will looked soft in the low light, edges blurred just enough to feel unreal. His hair fell into his eyes, his cheeks were flushed, lips parted slightly like he’d forgotten to close them. His eyes– God, his eyes…
He laughed suddenly, quietly, the sound slipping out before he could stop it.
It startled Will a little. “What?”
Mike shook his head, still smiling like an idiot. “Sorry. I just– ” He gestured vaguely between them. “This is… weird.”
Will huffed a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Kind of.”
“Like, good weird. But also– ” He leaned in a fraction without realizing it. “Weird weird.”
Will nodded as Mike’s gaze dropped to Will’s mouth. He shouldn’t have noticed that. He definitely shouldn’t have kept noticing it. But his brain latched on and refused to let go. Will’s lips looked soft. Pink. Like they’d been curved into a smile for most of the night and hadn’t quite relaxed yet.
Mike’s mouth opened at the sight.
Words spilled out before he could stop them, tumbling over each other in a messy rush.
“You look really different right now,” he said.
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. Just– ” He laughed nervously again. “You always look like you. But this is like… extra you.”
Will’s mouth curled up, trying to follow. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know,” Mike said cheerfully. “That’s what I’m saying.”
He tilted his head, studying Will like he was something precious and confusing and entirely new.
“You’re really pretty,” he said, tone casual in the way only drunk honesty could be. “Like… distractingly so.”
Will stared at him, stunned. “Mike.”
“What? I’m just saying.”
Will’s cheeks turned pink. “You can’t just say that.”
Mike squinted at him, confused. “Why not?”
“Because,” he said, then stopped. “Because you’re– ”
“Drunk?”
“Yes,” Will said quickly. “That.”
Mike laughed, a little softer this time. “Okay, yeah. But drunk people don’t lie, right?”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret with Will. And in a way he was. “You look so goddamn pretty it actually kind of hurts.”
The words hung between them. Will didn’t speak. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again. His eyes flicked over Mike’s face, like he was searching for something– anything– that would make sense of what he’d just heard.
Mike felt suddenly shy, which was new and deeply unfair.
“I mean,” he rushed on, babbling, “not like in a– I mean, I don’t know. You’re just– your face. And your hair does that thing. And it’s– ” He gestured helplessly. “A lot.”
Will finally breathed out a shaky laugh. “This… it doesn’t feel real.”
Mike blinked twice. “What?”
Will’s gaze flicked around the basement, then back to Mike. “What if I’m actually asleep upstairs and this is just– ” He waved a hand. “My brain being mean to me.” He looked at Mike with sudden seriousness. “Can you pinch me?”
Mike’s heart skipped.
“Yeah,” he said easily. “Sure.”
He reached out and pinched Will’s arm. Just a little too much.
Will yelped. “Ow! Mike!”
Mike burst out laughing. “Sorry! I– didn’t mean to.”
“That was not necessary,” Will said, rubbing the spot.
“You said pinch,” Mike defended. “So I pinched.”
Will stared at him, then started laughing. They both did, laughter knocking them off balance. Mike stumbled backward, still laughing, still holding onto Will.
Neither of them noticed the couch until it hit the backs of their knees.
They tumbled together, limbs tangling, landing in a heap on the cushions with an oof and a burst of laughter that echoed too loudly in the quiet basement.
They became painfully aware of the position they’d landed in– too close, breath mingling, Will half-sprawled against Mike, eyes wide and shining.
They froze.
Mike shook his head, heart hammering, staring at Will like the world had gone fuzzy and shrunk down to these two faces, two bodies, two souls tangled together.
Will’s eyes were wide. Wide in that way that made Mike’s stomach do somersaults, wide in a way that said holy shit, this is happening, I don’t know what to do, I shouldn’t be here but I want to be here.
His brain was a mess of alcohol, adrenaline, and feelings he hadn’t even tried to name yet. The words he wanted to say were tangled in his tongue. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
“Uh– ”
Will tilted his head slightly, breathing hard. “What?”
“I– ” Mike uttered, laughing nervously.
“Mike… Just do the thing.”
His eyes went wide. “The thing?”
Will groaned softly, the kind of frustrated groan you only make when someone else’s indecision is making you feel things.
“Just kiss me.”
Mike’s head spun, and nothing made sense. He leaned just slightly closer, and Will’s face followed, equally tentative, equally helpless, until heir noses bumped and Will’s eyelashes brushed his cheek.
“Oh god,” Mike whispered. “Oh god.”
Will’s hand twitched toward Mike’s arm. Then slowly, almost painfully slow, their hands found each other again, gripping as if holding on to sanity itself.
Their faces hovered inches apart. Mike could feel every inhale from Will, every breath from himself, every pulse of heat where their skin met. Then finally, finally, their lips met.
It was soft. Hesitant at first, all unsure angles and weird warmth, but somehow better than anything Mike could have imagined. Better than his favourite lasagna, better than D&D nights, better than the first fireworks at the fair. Better than kissing a girl. Better than anything he’d ever felt.
Will’s lips moved against his with a careful, slow pressure, as if asking for permission first. Mike answered, tilting his head just enough, letting go of all awkwardness and letting his tongue in. His hands found Will’s hips, clutching the fabric of his jeans gently. Will’s hands rested on Mike’s shoulders, steadying, grounding, and every tiny touch made Mike feel like electricity was flowing straight through him.
Their lips parted for barely a second, just to catch breath, before they pressed together again, more confident now, more insistent, like every nerve in Mike’s body had been waiting for this moment forever. His mind was a haze of adrenaline and sugar and alcohol and Will.
Will, who made a soft sound against his mouth– a gasp? A whine? A moan? Mike didn’t know. He kissed him again, slower this time, savoring the warmth, the closeness, the ridiculous, impossible feeling of being this near to someone he cared about more than he’d ever been able to admit.
His hands clutched onto Will’s sides, holding on as they both tried to find balance on the couch. Then Will shifted slightly in his lap, brushing against Mike in a way that sent shivers down his spine. Their bodies pressed together in ways that made no sense, hands tangling in hair, hips bumping as they rolled a little.
“Oh god,” he gasped, lips brushing Will’s again as they tried to adjust on the cushions. “Oh god– ”
He tried to pull back, and couldn’t. His brain had stopped working entirely. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move without somehow wanting more– more closeness, more heat, more pull.
Will only huffed against his neck, then dragged himself closer, grinding slowly against him in a way that made them both gasp.
“You’re– ,” he murmured, forehead resting against Mike’s, the smirk in his voice catching on a breath.
“Yeah,” Mike gasped, not bothering to hide the way his body reacted, hips shifting up to press against Will. “So are you.”
The friction was sharp and desperate – only fabric between them dulling it slightly. Will bit down on a whine as Mike stared at him, eyes locked on every twitch, every breath, like he wanted to memorize it all. Mike watched Will roll his hips like he wasn’t even thinking anymore. Like instinct had taken over.
“I– Will– ” Mike whispered, incoherent, half-laughing, half-gasping. His hands tangled in Will’s hair, then arms, then shoulders, holding on because letting go felt impossible.
Will’s voice was soft, urgent, shaky: “Mike– ” He gasped, breathless from closeness, and the overwhelming heat of everything crashing into him at once.
Mike gave in and kissed him again with clumsy passion, pressing on Will’s hips, just to have him closer, closer, closer… He didn’t know where he ended and Will began, and he didn’t want to. The sensation of being this close– the warmth, the rhythm of Will’s breath, the feeling of him under his hands– was too much, and Mike felt like he might combust.
“I can’t– oh god– ” Mike let out, burying his face into Will’s neck for a second, leaving small kisses there.
Will’s hands found his back, holding him steady, and Mike lost all sense of time, all sense of space, all sense of himself. He wasn’t looking at just one thing – not Will’s mouth, or the slick line of his neck or his messy hair.
He was seeing all of him.
The way Will melted over. The way he wasn’t rolling his hips on top of him anymore. Just twitching – shallow movements, jerking forward. Every noise he made was small, stifled. Little gasps, open-mouthed exhales. The softest whines, barely audible, when Mike finally got the courage to squeeze his butt. His whole body vibrating with tension. His fingers gripping whatever they could reach. Every press, every shift of weight left him trembling and dizzy, consumed by the overwhelming, intoxicating, ridiculous closeness of being so utterly, hopelessly tangled with Mike.
But then – a high, sharp whine and nothing but shivering. Just full-body tremors, eyes squeezed shut, thighs shaking around Mike’s hips. His mouth opened, but no words came. Just a ruined gasp.
And Mike didn’t need anything else to get off.
They stayed like that for a long moment, too close to think, too drunk and too dizzy to care. The basement fading around them until there was only the two of them and the chaotic, dizzying heat of everything.
Mike finally drew back just enough to rest his forehead against Will’s, both of them panting, flushed, grinning like complete idiots.
Will’s eyes were wide, lips still pink from laughter and kisses, hair sticking to his damp forehead. He looked impossibly alive, impossibly him. Mike blinked, breath still catching, completely mesmerized.
“You know, I really loved seeing you like this tonight. Confident. Wild.”
Will looked up at him, flustered. “I– what?”
Mike laughed again, soft and fond. “I mean it. Seeing you own the dance floor, looking completely ridiculous– you’re so… you. You’re so you, Will.”
Will shook his head, trying to hide the embarrassed smile tugging at his lips as his cheeks went pinker.
“Shut it…You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah, I know,” Mike said, fingers still lightly tangling in the hem of his shirt. “So… you gonna be a party animal in college?”
Will smirked, teasing. “…Maybe. Who knows?”
“I know. And I’d love that for you. As long as other boys stay away from you.”
Will laughed, lightly elbowing him, shaking his head. “Come on, Mike.”
“You know I’m dead serious about it, right?”
Will slowly sat up, meeting Mike’s eyes, and for a moment, everything clicked– this isn’t just playful teasing or tipsy messing around.
Both of them felt it– the little spark that had been growing all the time, now became undeniable. The way their hands fit together perfectly even when they weren’t thinking about it. The way their laughter lingered in the air long after the sound faded. The way Mike’s heart hammered when Will moved even an inch closer, and the way Will’s chest fluttered every time Mike smiled at him like that.
Mike swallowed hard, “I mean it, Will. I– I don’t want anyone else near you. Not because I’m controlling, or–” He laughed nervously, shaking his head. “Whatever…But because I want you.”
Will’s breath caught. His thumb paused on Mike’s jaw, and for a long second, he just looked at him. Really looked.
“Mike…” he whispered, voice shaking slightly. “…Keep talking.”
And Mike smiled, breathless and dizzy, and pressed another messy kiss to his mouth.
They didn’t need words anymore– not when their hands and mouths found each other, and everything else fell away.