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Mike is tipsy.
It’s the only reasonable and valid explanation why he would act recklessly like this. It’s the alcohol streaming in his veins, making his train of thought derail from rational to heedless. It's definitely not because Will has been refusing to make eye contact with him ever since he got here, down in Mike's basement for one of their traditional movie nights. The alcohol is messing with his brain — not Will. Even though he thinks that Will is more intoxicating than any can of beer he's been cautiously sipping since the movie started playing.
The credits for Star Wars: Return of the Jedi are already rolling on the screen, a classic movie for the whole Party to rewatch even though El grumbles about it every time they choose to play it again. El, who cannot keep her eyes open for more than a few minutes as soon as she consumes a drop of alcohol, is out like a light before the main protagonists of the film are able to rescue Han Solo.
The rest of the party are more or less in an inebriated state. They usually do not indulge in alcohol often but they figured since they survived the end of the world after fighting interdimensional monsters and were able to graduate high school unscathed, they deserve it. Dustin is snoring, mouth wide agape, his head bent at an awkward angle against the couch while Lucas and Max, who are definitely wasted, are taking turns to toss popcorn in his mouth. Judging by the growing pile of popcorn on the floor, they are spectacularly failing at their new task.
They seem unfazed though, bursting into giggles as another piece of popcorn unsurprisingly misses Dustin. It, instead, changes its trajectory to its fated destination and decides to hit Mike right on his forehead. Mike frowns. This night couldn't get any worse.
This time, when the couple laughs, they are joined by Will's snort. Mike’s attention is immediately drawn to him. Will is sprawled on the floor, lying across Mike, on the other side of the room. His chuckle gets stuck halfway in his throat when he realises the mistake that he made — he finally met Mike's eyes since he got here.
He finally lets himself be openly stared by Mike since he waltzed in Mike's house, in his basement, with his boyfriend who was confidently wrapping an arm around Will's waist. As if he had any right to touch him. His Will. His brain reminds him that Will doesn’t belong to him. He kindly orders the voice in his head to fuck off.
Fucking Carlton. Just remembering his face makes Mike want to break into hives.
When Will had shyly asked the party whether he could bring his boyfriend to one of their movie nights, a fortnight ago, Mike had to bite his tongue hard until he tasted blood before he could spit out a harsh no like a dickhead. Obviously, the others responded positively, encouraging Will to bring him more often in the future. Mike doesn't know what he will end up doing if Will actually takes them up on that. He will probably be making headlines on the local news for impulsively murdering his friend's boyfriend.
Will and the Asshole — Mike refuses to say his ugly name out loud in his head lest he wants to throw up all over the carpet — had sat together, their sides pressed together until there was not a singular space between them. Throughout the duration of the movie, the Asshole kept bending his head towards Will, whispering god knows what in his ears, essentially making Will giggle. Mike couldn't focus on the movie and that’s saying something because Return of the Jedi is one of his favourite movies of all time so much so that even if Vecna appeared in his basement, with his deep gravelly voice, cursing Mike, he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off the tv.
Mike kind of misses Vecna. He is willing to let the Mind Flayer possess him if it would make Vecna put a curse on the Asshole, levitating him in the air as his arms and limbs snapped and cracked at horrifying angles, blood flowing from his eyes as Mike would watch gleefully, shoving handfuls of popcorn in his mouth, enjoying the show.
God. He sounds like a psychopath. The alcohol is clearly messing with his brain. He needs to stop drinking even though he had only two cans so far and he's not a lightweight.
He slams the can of beer a bit too hard on the carpeted floor. The sound echoes in the silence of the room. It startles Will, making him jump a little. Mike would have felt bad for scaring him had it not meant that Will has also been paying close attention to every little movement Mike's been making. In the background, Max and Lucas's voices soften, trading whispers back and forth, popcorn thankfully left alone in the bowls. Dustin continues snoring peacefully.
Mike shamelessly stares at Will, boldened by the fact that Will is also staring back. He studies him, taking in the way Will's breath starts to hitch. He gulps, his Adam apple bobbing by the action and Mike is mesmerised by the movement. He wonders, not for the first time, how it will feel when he presses his lips on Will's throat as he swallows.
Will squirms. Mike, belatedly, realises that he is making Will nervous. The notion makes Mike dizzy with power, his greed expanding exponentially in his chest. If Will doesn’t stop, Mike will do something that he will pretend he will regret doing. Because when it comes to Will, there's nothing that he will ever regret doing.
Will reaches for the plastic water bottle that was lying by his side the whole night. His steadfast refusal to consume alcohol in any situation hasn't changed. He ducks his head as he attempts to open the bottle cap, his hands slightly shaking. He groans with frustration when he finds that he already drank all the water. He then proceeds to squeeze the bottle, the material crunching under his hands. Mike imagines it's his waist that Will is grasping and it sends shivers down his spine.
God. He is going insane. It's either due to the alcohol or Will; Mike is having a hard time differentiating the effects they have on him.
There is a restless energy thrumming under Mike's skin and it's only getting worse the more he looks at Will. He can’t make himself stop. He knows it's wrong. Immoral even. El is right next to him, fast asleep. Her dreams are the only place where Mike actually loves her back. It's so wrong but Mike cannot stop staring at his best friend.
Will seems to be sporting the same problem. Mike sighs out loud and a second later, Will audibly gasps. As if he just inhaled Mike's breath right out of his mouth.
Will drops the crumpled bottle. His right hand slowly travels upwards, Mike's eyes tracking the gesture. It moves up and up until he reaches his necklace. Mike stops breathing. And herein lies the second problem of the night.
(The first was clearly Carlton actually tagging along with Will and crashing the Party's monthly movie night. The audacity of him being friendly enough that El smiled warmly at him, quirky enough to jab with Dustin and Lucas and charmingly witty enough to make Max smile. Mike fucking hates the Asshole.)
Will has never been a fan of accessories. Mike has always seen him wearing the hand-me-down watch ever since he met Will on that swingset in the kindergarten. It’s an old watch, the worn-out straps barely hanging on to its case but since it's important to him, he has never taken it off. Rings, on the other hand, are a totally different matter. Will refuses to wear them. He believes that they disrupt him when he's painting, not allowing his fingers to move freely as he brushes the paint across the canvas. Mike knows he's indifferent about wearing necklaces. Will doesn’t particularly care about them.
Mike genuinely doesn't have any problem with Will wearing necklaces. He actually thinks the one he's currently wearing, the one with a small padded lock hanging in the middle, is nice. Cute, even. It's simplistic and it suits Will. He would have easily complimented Will about it.
Except, Carlton has a matching necklace. His consists of a small key, corresponding to Will's lock. It was the first thing that Mike noticed as soon as they both ambled down the stairs, hands intertwined as their matching necklaces twinkled under the yellow basement light. The light reflected on the metal, blinding Mike with their glint as if mocking him. He had to clench his fists until his nails dug crescents into his skin. Mike welcomed the sting in his palms. He had to or else he would have marched right up to the Asshole and use the same fucking necklace to choke him to death.
Will tugs at the lock. Mike feels his heartstrings being pulled towards Will. He twirls his fingers multiple times around the chain, reducing the length of the necklace and making the metal dig in his skin. He wonders if like him, Will is also trying to focus on the pain, trying to ground himself to stay in the moment. It's definitively presumptuous of Mike but he is sure that Will is thinking of Mike right now as he tensely plays with the necklace that his boyfriend gave him. It makes his blood sing.
Mike doesn't know what takes over him but he sends a quick surreptitiously glance towards the basement bathroom. It's dangerous, what he's trying to imply with that look. But, once again, he can't stop himself. Will, of course, who's been an expert at reading Mike's micro expressions since they became friends, understands it instantly. He doesn’t question it. He merely gets up and makes his way towards the bathroom.
Mike waits. He scans his surroundings, finding that Lucas and Max have also drifted to sleep. He purposely doesn't look at El. The fact that he’s even thinking about joining Will in the bathroom makes his stomach drop in anticipation. Mike is a terrible person. He has also decided that he doesn't care about it anymore. Especially not after tonight.
He stands up as silently as he can, ensuring that no one is awake as he makes his way to the bathroom. When he reaches the closed door, his heart is beating so fast that he's afraid that it will leap out of his ribcage and land right on the threshold of the door, where Will is waiting for him on the other side. Mike runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath before he clutches on the knob. He tries to calm himself down.
Mike twists the door open and quietly steps inside. He is rewarded by the sight of Will, who has his back turned to Mike. He's standing in front of the single basin sink.
He approaches Will by taking a few steps forward which allows him to meet Will's eyes through the mirror. His eyes are hazy, flicking back and forth between Mike's eyes in the reflection.
Mike stays rooted on the spot. Despite having a distance of a few feet between them, it feels like they are standing next to each other. Mike wants to approach Will. God. It’s killing him not to crowd his personal space right now. His hands stay limp by his hands, occasionally flexing as they can’t seem to understand why he is taking so long to hold Will.
But, he can't. Not when Will is still wearing that necklace. It's acting like a barrier between them. In a way, he is glad that Will is still wearing it because if it wasn’t for the necklace gracefully wrapped around his neck, it would have been Mike's hands instead. And he doesn’t know how he would be able to handle that when El is right outside.
The air is brimming with tension. Not a single word has been exchanged between them since the night started. But, then again, when did they need words to communicate? Shared looks have always been the sole communication channel for Mike and Will.
“Did he give the necklace to you?” Mike is unsurprisingly the first one to break the silence. He is always the one to make the first move when they do this. It's inevitable.
Will sucks the left corner of his bottom lip into his mouth, his white teeth a stark contrast against his red plump lips. Mike is not an idiot. He knows why his lips are red and puffy. They have been in that state ever since Will went upstairs to see off Carlton when the movie ended. The image of the Asshole pressing Will against Mike's front door, kissing him senselessly fills him up with an inexplicable rage. Mike wishes it was him.
For a while, Will remains silent. Then, he nods. He goes to tug at the lock again and Mike genuinely thinks he will scream, effectively waking up the whole house. Sometimes, he wishes he had telekinesis powers so that he could snap that necklace right off Will's neck. With the intense way he's glaring at the offended accessory right now, he would not be astonished if he manifested it into actually happening.
Mike closes the distance between them, standing right behind Will. He still doesn’t allow any part of him to touch Will. Not yet.
“Take it off, Will,” Mike orders breathlessly.
Will decides to play dumb. He slightly tilts his head to the right, a confused expression forming on his face as if he doesn’t know what Mike is talking about.
“Take what off?”
Oh. So, it's going to be like that today. That's fine. Two can play this game.
“The necklace. Take it off. Right now,” Mike demands.
Will stands his ground. “No.”
Mike's nostrils flare with anger. He bends down, his mouth inches away from Will's ear. Goosebumps break all over Will's body, especially on the nape of his neck. Sometimes, Mike is in awe of the effect he has on Will. It's dizzying and the greed inside his chest just keeps on growing and growing.
“Why?” Mike whispers, a taunting tilt laced in his voice. “Do you think keeping the necklace on will assuage your guilt?”
It's a low blow, considering that it's coming from Mike himself whose girlfriend is sleeping on the other side of the bathroom, blissfully unaware that Mike is about to commit a sin that he won't repent. But, this push-and-pull game he and Will have been playing at always leads to this. It’s not like they cannot put a stop to this; it's just that they don't want to.
Will, to his credit, doesn't take the bait. He lifts his chin smugly, as if he had already predicted Mike's response.
“If the necklace is bothering you so much, Mike, why don't you take it off?”
Mike is not a fool; he can read between the lines. He knows that Will is trying to wrap it as a provocation but it's clearly an invitation. Will is giving him full permission to get rid of the necklace. The daring and mischievous glint in Will's beautiful hazel eyes almost makes Mike fall on his knees.
As much as Mike wants to unlatch the necklace and flush it down the toilet, he remains still. Bewildered by Mike's inaction, Will's eyebrows scrunch in a frown. His best friend's patience is running thin — his hands are white as a ghost as they tightly clutch the basin. Mike understands his predicament. Letting the necklace stay around Will's neck for one more second is pure torture. Which is why he decides to inflict the same gnawing feeling he had felt in his heart on Will when he brought Carlton in Mike's basement and ruined their sacred place forever.
It's selfish. That's, unfortunately, Mike's default setting when it comes to Will.
Mike mirrors Will's stance, placing each hand next to Will's, caging him in. Their pinkies are touching, the contact burning through all of Mike's clothes, heating up his body. Due to their negligible height difference, Mike is towering over Will. Slowly, he brings his mouth to the back of Will's neck, hovering above the necklace's clasp. It coincidentally covers the black mole on his skin. Will's moles are one of his favourite features about him so seeing it concealed behind Carlton's stupid fucking necklace makes him see red.
It makes him want to do stupid, dangerous things like biting the clasp with his teeth and dragging it down until he can fully admire Will's mole in all its glory. Pleased, Mike licks the mole and it makes Will whimper. The sound goes straight to the pit in Mike's stomach, making him more delirious.
Encouraged by Will's reaction, he nips the skin around the mole before sucking a bruise on his skin. Will drops his head while he closes his eyes. A tiny moan escapes from his mouth but before Mike can relish it, letting himself drown in it, Will bites his lips, trapping the sound behind his mouth. Mike hates that.
“Will.” His voice comes out raspy.
They have barely done anything and he already sounds like a wreck. Will, who is obviously on the same page as Mike, shudders.
“I want you to look at me.” Mike is not ashamed to admit that he is begging. “Please.”
Mike waits. Will regains his composure, probably trying to gather his scrambled thoughts in one organised compartment in his brain. When he opens his eyes, staring at Mike with his sparkling yet darkening eyes through the mirror, Mike smiles. He gives a quick peck on Will's mole, silently thanking him for trusting and listening to him. Will's own mouth twitches upwards.
“So,” Mike starts conversationally as if he's just having a normal chat with Will in his basement bathroom. No big deal. As expected, Will chuckles, amused by his antics like it’s a daily occurrence.
Will parrots casually, “So.”
“So.” Mike lifts his right hand, tracing the chain with his index finger as light as a feather. Up and down. On the right of Will's neck. And then on the left part. Up and down again until Will is breathing heavily, his chest heaving up and down. He's following the pattern of Mike's touches in tandem. His eyes are close to drooping shut but he fights against the urge. Simply because Mike asked him earlier. It drives him insane.
“Did he put it on for you? The necklace?”
The evident answer is a yes. But, Mike still has to ask.
“Yeah,” Will replies. “Yeah, he did.”
Mike nods, forcing himself not to think about the Asshole putting on this ugly necklace on Will's neck. He doesn’t want to think about his lingering touches on Will's skin. He despises it so much that his lungs contract in pain with his heart ripping in shreds.
And since he honestly has come this far, it wouldn't be too outrageous to check one thing.
Mike places an open-mouthed kiss on the side of Will's neck.
“Did you think of me?” Mike's tongue feels heavy in his mouth. “When he was putting on the necklace?”
Will freezes. Mike ceases his movements, still like a famished fog, tail wagging up and down, tongue sticking out with drool as it waits for its owner to give it a morsel of food. Will has to know, right? The way he has Mike in the palm of his hands?
“I did,” Will confesses and he doesn’t sound guilty about it. “I imagined that it was you putting it on.”
Mike's heart skips a beat. Will is genuinely going to kill him if he keeps saying things like that.
“Yeah?” Mike continues placing hot, desperate, open-mouthed kisses on his neck. He is panting between the kisses. “Did you wish they were my fingers instead? My mouth? My tongue?”
Will urgently lifts his right hand and reaches behind Mike's neck, clutching the mop of hair found at the back of his head. He tugs at the curls, making Mike groan as he keeps on kissing Will's neck.
“God, Mike, yes,” Will moans loudly now. “You know it's you. It’s always been you.”
He has heard the truth fall from Will's lips multiple times before. But not like this. Never as desperate and aching like this. The greedy and envious creature who has been living inside Mike's chest roars with victory. Take that, Carlton. Fucking Asshole.
Mike cannot hold it anymore. He wraps his hands around Will's waist, pulling him back until he's flush against Mike's chest. Will's striped t-shirt rises, allowing Mike to skim his fingertips along his waist, just above the hem of his pants.
“I hate it when he touches you like this.” Mike hopes that his touch lingers on Will's skin, burning away the touch of his boyfriend. He hopes that it fades away forever and is replaced permanently by Mike's touch.
“I know. Me too.”
Will's agreement shouldn't make Mike happy but it does. He is a simple man, after all.
As if he cannot bear it anymore, Will turns around in Mike's embrace, his hand still anchored in his curls and the other one resting on his shoulder, fingers curling
The change in the position now gives Mike full access to Will's neck and he instantly attaches his lips to the endless patch of skin, moving like a lost, thirsty traveller who after endless search finally found an oasis in the desert.
Mike is tipsy. No. That's not true. He's drunk. Drunk on Will's breathy gasps escaping from his mouth. Drunk on the way Will is tilting his head backwards, so lost in the pleasure that Mike is giving him that he is no longer thinking straight. Drunk on the way Will huskily moans his name while his nails scrape and scratch Mike's scalp.
“Mike.”
He hums as he leaves another blazing path of trailing, unhurried kisses on Will's neck. Mike doesn't think of the consequences of his actions. He's so lost in the presence of Will who's so damn beautiful and gorgeous. Will is right here, body arching into him as he lets Mike kiss his neck while he has a boyfriend, waiting at home.
There's not one single coherent thought floating around in Mike's brain right now. He has a goal in mind, with no intention of stopping until he's fulfilled it. He takes his sweet time exploring Will's neck, a familiar place that he has already mapped with his lips on multiple occasions before. Using his tongue, he shifts the necklace a few inches off, just enough to clear a path. The chain presses a faint curve into Will’s skin, the mark left from how hard he had been yanking at it earlier.
Mike follows it instinctively, tracing where the metal had been moments before. He lazily sucks bruises along the phantom shape of the necklace.
“Mike,” Will murmurs confusedly, “what are you doing?”
He doesn’t bother gracing Will with a reply. When he's done leaving a final bruise on the curve between Will's neck and shoulder blade, Mike reluctantly leans away. He greedily inspects his work, pride mixed with unadulterated desire lighting his nerves on fire.
“Giving you a better necklace.”
Then, he carelessly unclasps Will's necklace, the object clattering on the tiled floor with a thump. Mike hopes that it broke upon impact.
Will, whose pupils have dilated, honey specks completely disappearing from his eyes, delicately traces Mike's handiwork with his fingertips — the bruises he left into the shape of a necklace, spreading around his neck in various shades of red and purple.
Mike drinks in every emotion that passes through Will's facial expression, ready to file it for sleepless nights.
“Mike.” His name comes out as a reverent, choked cry.
“Mine looks so much better on you.”
He sounds like a possessive freak which is not further away from the truth. Will has always managed to make him feel off-kilter, tilting his world off its axis. And Mike would never be his true self unless he didn't orbit around Will.
And then, Will lunges forward without any warning and captures Mike's lips in a passionate kiss. He does it at such an alarming force that Mike stumbles backwards. It's like a volcano burst inside of Will, unafraid of the havoc that the spilled lava will wreck in its passage.
Mike, thankfully, doesn’t fall backwards as he kisses him back. That would be totally embarrassing especially after the stunt he just pulled; Will obviously loved it in the light of him immediately jumping onto Mike to kiss him. He has no regrets.
The kiss is anything but sweet. It's not like it’s their first time doing this and it definitely won't be their last. It starts with hurried slides of lips against each other’s mouths, like they're running out of time.
Mike feels like he's standing on the edge of a cliff — one slip and he’ll be falling into insanity. The kiss is so messy and sloppy, that their lips keep slipping away from each other. Mike is shaking so hard.
Will makes an annoyed sound at the back of his throat. Removing his hand from Mike's shoulder, he uses it to firmly cup his jaw and adjusts his face until their mouths are correctly aligned with each other. They both sigh in relief as the kiss grows even hungrier.
“You're,” Will informs him through another half-gasp half-moan, “crazy.”
It's not a new characteristic trait.
Mike seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside Will's mouth, his brain melting in his skull at the contact. He sucks his tongue, making Will moan so loud that the sound reverberates inside Mike.
Mike moans as Will also returns the favour. He even sensually drags Mike's bottom lip, biting and sucking it before shoving his tongue back into his mouth. Flickers of heat pool at the bottom of Mike's stomach.
“You make me crazy.”
They briefly pull away to catch their breath, foreheads pressed against each other. Mike peruses Will: his flushed cheeks, his swollen rosy lips and his wide, brown eyes boring into Mike. He knows, right there and then, that they are going to kiss again.
“Can I get something off my chest?” Will asks.
Mike eagerly nods.
Will takes a few seconds mulling it over. He is clearly debating whether to say it or not. Mike is intrigued, to say the least. Will usually doesn’t have a hard time expressing his feelings. Not when it comes to telling Mike, at least.
Mike tries his utmost best to reassure Will through his eyes. He doesn’t want to speak out loud, afraid that breaking the silence will unavoidably shatter this intimate moment between them. His encouraging message must be conveyed because Will inhales deeply and says, “I think about you every time I kiss him.”
Mike's hands tighten around Will's waist.
“No, actually,” Will amends his words, “I imagine it's you kissing me every single damn time. Because then, it makes it bearable.”
Mike doesn't know how to react. He hears his blood roar in his ears, every other sound muffled except for Will's confession.
Tears well up in Will's eyes. “Does that make me a bad person?”
“No, no, no, Will.” Mike rushes to comfort him, dragging his thumbs to wipe away his tears as softly as he can. “It doesn’t make you a bad person.”
Mike doesn't know if he’s convincing Will or himself at this point. He doesn’t voice out that he also imagines that it's Will when he's kissing El. Admitting it out loud will only break Will's heart and Mike simply cannot allow that.
“If it makes you feel any better, I actually hoped that you're imagining me while you're kissing him,” Mike concedes in a low tone, his hands enclosed around Will's cheeks.
“Yeah?”
Mike smiles. “Yeah.”
Mike tries really hard not to think about the fact that his hands are so large that they cover Will's entire lower face. Under the heel of his palm, Will's pulse is thrumming with skyrocketing speed. His eyes inexplicably drop to Will's lips again. He rubs his thumb over the swollen flesh, back and forth, committing every bump and crack to memory. He doesn’t know when they will be doing this again.
Will stands on his tiptoes, leaning in until their lips are touching again. No one moves.
“You’re the better kisser, anyways.” Will lures him in like a siren.
Will really knows how to push his buttons because this statement unravels an animalistic part of Mike, one he has been trying to tamp down ever since Will announced that he was dating Carlton.
Mike is not proud about the way he growls, sounding like a feral dog, before pulling Will into another hungry kiss. He would have felt abashed at such a strong display of vulnerability but when he feels Will's smile against his lips as they kiss, he knows he likes it. He likes it when Mike acts a little bit insane.
Time slows down and so do their kisses. It switches from long-lasting, hard presses of lips to more slow, subtle ones. Eventually, reality comes crashing back in and they know they have to stop.
Mike does his best to savour the taste of Will's lips, hoping the memory of it will sustain him for a while longer. Until he gets to have another taste again. A torturous never-ending cycle that neither one of them wants to break from. Will reluctantly pulls away, unwrapping his hands from Mike's body. With the separation, Will also takes away his warmth, cold gradually seeping back into Mike's bones.
As much as it pains Mike, he has to detangle himself from Will. Before he has second thoughts though, he kisses Will, one last time. It's just a quick peck but at least, it makes Will giggle. It's worth it.
Mike clears his throat and steps back, putting a few feet of distance between them. What they did tonight was beyond risky. The whole Party was outside and anyone could have barged in, catching them red-handed. He shakes his head, willing for these dreading scenarios to vanish from his head.
Will turns around, reclaiming his original position in front of the mirror. He traces the hickeys on his neck in unbelievable awe, like he cannot comprehend their existence.
Mike desperately wants to press his fingertips on the bruises he left. He wants to see if they are sensitive, making Will gasp if he puts enough pressure. He wants it so bad but he cannot. The moment is over now.
Next time. He'll find out next time. He clings to the thought like a promise.
“Mike,” Will complains, an attempt to steer the situation they're embroiled in into normal territory, “my mom is going to kill me.”
Mike shrugs nonchalantly with his shoulders. “You could always wear a turtleneck.”
Will snorts. “In spring?”
Mike doesn't have a valid counterpoint for that so he clamps his mouth shut. He continues observing Will who’s still studying Mike’s marks, like he’s afraid they might disappear if he looks away from them for one second. Mike empathises with that feeling.
“Guess I won’t be seeing Carlton for a few days,” Will jokingly comments, trying to sound light. “It's hard to explain this.”
Mike’s jaw tightens. He folds his arms across his chest.
“Good,” he says through gritted teeth. The topic of Carlton automatically makes him boil with rage. He can’t help it.
Will looks at him in the mirror with a raised skeptical eyebrow raised at him.
Mike meets his eyes. “Or,” he adds, “you could just stop seeing him.”
He doesn’t say it like a joke. It's hypocritical of him to suggest this to Will when he is still in a relationship with Will's sister. Will doesn’t call out on him. He's kind like that. He doesn’t even bother replying to Mike's recommendation.
Will's fingers drop from his neck. It’s a sign that they have to go back to the normal world — a signal Mike cannot ignore.
For a moment, they just stare longingly at each other through the mirror. It feels like eons pass as they both scrutinise each other. Then Will turns away, breaking eye contact. It’s the final nail in the coffin.
“We should go, Mike,” he says tiredly.
Mike nods. Will leaves first, like always. Mike sighs out loud and then clicks the door shut. The necklace remains forgotten on the floor.