Work Text:
Mike’s been in New York for less than a week and he’s already staring at a naked woman.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Will watching him. His mouth keeps twitching, jaw flexing as he fights a losing battle. Mike scowls at him before shifting his gaze back to his paper.
He’s drawn – uh – he's not sure. It’s vaguely human. He startles when something knocks his right foot and glances down to see the toe of Will’s shoe. He looks up and sees Will subtly nod to the other end of the room. Mike gets up to follow, making sure to avoid looking at the model from any other angles.
The supply closet is cramped and smells strongly like paper and paint. Will shuts the door behind them and finally lets himself laugh.
“Oh my god,” Will whispers. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m not,” Mike hisses. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sweating.”
“It’s hot in there.” Even hotter in here. Mike runs a hand through his hair, “You could’ve warned me.”
“I did warn you,” Will says. “It’s figure drawing.”
“I thought that was, like– bowls of fruit.”
“You thought I signed up to draw apples for two hours?”
Mike groans.
“You gonna be ok? We’re only halfway through.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Mike straightens up. He needs to get it together.
Will studies him for a few seconds then smirks, “Ok…”
When they reenter the room, the woman is gone. Thank god. Maybe now’s when they bring out the grapes. Mike barely has time to adjust back into his seat before the new model steps up onto the platform. His stomach drops.
A man.
It’s anatomy, he reminds himself firmly, but that doesn't stop the heat crawling up his neck. Man or woman, he's just uncomfortable looking at naked people. Is that so strange?
He glances over at Will who isn't laughing anymore and definitely doesn't seem to feel as shy as Mike. He’s focused. Completely, utterly focused. His head tilts slightly as he studies the model. Charcoal moves confidently across the page. His forearm flexes with each stroke. He bites his bottom lip in concentration. Or in...
Mike swallows.
Is this– what Will likes? He knows Will is gay but he wonders if he's attracted to the man in front of them.
The model settles into a comfortable position, his stupid muscles catching the light.
Mike drags his gaze back to his paper and doesn't reference the model at all as he draws a stick figure in repose. He wants to show Will, maybe get a laugh out of him, but after a few seconds of hoping to catch his attention, he gives up. He should let him work, this is his actual class after all.
He finds himself much more interested in studying Will than the model. His focused eyes, his hands as they work, the slope of his shoulders. Mike decides he likes Will’s hands and arms and neck better than the model’s. The guy looks like a fucking statue. Too symmetrical. Too polished. It’s like he was carved out of marble instead of born like the rest of them.
But Will– there’s something about him that’s just nice to look at. Maybe it’s the familiarity. Maybe it's how engaged he is in his work. But Mike likes that he looks real.
He risks a glance at the clock. Forty-five minutes to go. His eyes flick back to the model and, before he can stop himself, his curious gaze drops.
They say comparison is the thief of joy, but in this very specific instance, it gifts Mike a brief and immature sense of victory.
He bends over his paper and, with great artistic intention, adds the tiniest possible detail to his drawing. He sits back and pretends to assess it.
Ah, yes. A masterpiece. He can't wait to show Will.
***
By the time class ends, the sun is technically still up but you wouldn’t know it. Just hours ago, it had been one of those rare perfect summer days. Now there are clouds darkening the light of the sunset, casting everything in an eerie half-glow. When they step out onto the street, the air feels different, too. Heavy and charged.
“Storm’s coming,” Will says, adjusting the strap of his bag.
Mike looks up. As if on cue, thunder rumbles – long and low somewhere in the distance.
They take their normal route back to Will’s apartment, and it feels like they’ve got the park all to themselves. The campus has been quiet since Mike got here a few days ago, there are way less students around in June, but it’s especially quiet in the evenings. There’s almost no one else around apart from one person walking their dog and a few musicians packing up for the day. The humid wind lifts the edge of Mike’s shirt and presses it briefly against his back.
“So what d’you think?” Will asks as they continue walking.
Mike peers down at him to his left. “Uh– I think your classes are weird.”
Will pushes against Mike’s shoulder, smiling. “Who knew you were such a prude? No, I meant– in general. What do you think of NYU? The city? Are you convinced?”
Mike’s been tagging along to Will’s classes for the past few days. ‘Auditing’ was the official word used by some ancient lady they had to visit on his first day. Mike hates change, he knows this about himself, but he hates Indiana University so much more. Word had gotten back to Jonathan who suggested he check out NYU or Columbia. Apparently they have some of the best writing programs in the country. It was worth a shot.
He thinks about how to answer Will’s question. Well, it’s different that’s for sure. Nothing about New York is like Hawkins. It’s crowded, constantly loud, and it always has this smell…he doesn’t like to think about what it is. He knows that if Will weren’t here, he’d hate it. With Will though, the city is kind of exciting.
It helps that Will’s lived here for the past year – Mike can rely on his routines to make it all feel less overwhelming. The daily walk through Washington Square Park, sometimes people-watching if there’s enough time before his first class. Mike watches, Will sketches. They give the people backstories and make each other laugh. Every morning, they get coffee at the diner by his apartment and every evening they stop there for dinner. They’re heading in that direction when Mike finally answers.
“Yeah, I think you’ve convinced me. On average, how many naked people will I get to see every week?”
Will groans. “You’re so stupid.”
“I just want an estimate.”
“Seriously, do you think you’ll transfer?”
Mike pauses, he hasn’t made a firm decision yet but…yeah, he’s had fun this week. It would take some getting used to – he’s lived in Indiana his entire life. Maybe that’s good though. Maybe it’s time for him to get outside of his comfort zone.
“I’m seriously thinking about it.” Not a definitive answer, but an honest one. He watches Will’s face as he processes it – he just slowly nods, the corner of his mouth quirks up in a reluctant smile.
“Cool.”
“Cool,” Mike echoes.
He smiles at his best friend. Neither of them say it, but they’re excited to be back in each other’s lives. Everything changed so much after graduation. They all got busy and, even though the party kept in touch over the phone, it wasn't the same. How could it be?
They've missed each other. And whether or not Mike does decide to move to New York, this trip has been just what he needed. Sure, the first few hours after he arrived were a little awkward and stiff, but it didn't take long for them to fall into their familiar Mike and Will dynamic. No matter how much time passes, there’s still a well-worn path between them.
***
They slide into their usual booth by the window. The place is pretty quiet – it’s just the two of them, a couple of regulars at the counter, and a tired waitress refilling coffee without being asked. They’re still laughing about the class when the waitress leaves with their order.
“It was anatomically accurate.”
“Uh huh.”
Mike leans back, smug. “Creative interpretation.”
Will snorts, his eyes flicking over Mike’s face for a moment, then he suddenly reaches into his bag. “Hold on.”
He pulls out a small roll of charcoal wrapped in cloth and smooths a napkin flat on the table.
“Oh no,” Mike says immediately. “Don’t.”
“Yes. I need more practice. Stay still.”
Will starts sketching. The first napkin tears almost instantly.
“Shit,” Will mutters. “Give me another one.”
Mike slides one across the table. For the next few minutes, Will is completely absorbed.
Mike’s watched Will draw countless times over the years, but being the subject gives him a new perspective. With Will sitting right across from him now, close and focused, there are details Mike’s never had a chance to notice before.
There’s the crease between his eyebrows. His tongue pressing faintly into his cheek. His eyes, which are normally so soft, going sharp and intent when he looks up at Mike. There’s a steadiness to him like this – he’s quiet and precise as he works.
“Whoa. How’d you make it look so much like me with just a few lines?” Mike asks when Will finally turns the napkin around.
“Well,” Will says, still studying it, “when you can’t use shading, you have to be really selective with your lines. It helps that you have distinct features,” Will traces in the air above the napkin with quick sharp movements to show him. “Your cheekbones and jaw are structured–” he moves up the face on the napkin, "–and your nose is prominent–”
Prominent, what a diplomatic way of putting it. He can’t help but smile at the word.
“–which gives your face a lot of character. And that contrasts with the rest of your features which are really soft. See? Your eyes are round and a little downturned and then, of course, your mouth–”
Will stops and chokes on the word a little, quickly looking at Mike to gauge his reaction.
“Yeah? What about my mouth?” He's genuinely curious.
There’s a subtle intake of breath before Will points back to the drawing. He touches the lines of Mike’s mouth and Mike mimics it on his own lips absentmindedly.
“Well, your lips are really full–” Will looks directly at Mike's mouth now to compare between the drawing and the real thing, “–there’s a lot of dimension. So without being able to shade anything really, this line here is doing a lot of work to show that.” He points to a faint line that curves down the middle of Drawing Mike’s bottom lip.
“I have a line on my bottom lip?” He turns to look at his reflection in the dark glass that looks out onto the street. “I do!”
“Yep, you do.” Will chuckles.
“How long have I had that? I’ve never noticed it.”
Will hesitates just a moment before answering, long enough that Mike turns away from his reflection to look at him. Will’s brow is a little tense as he looks past Mike. When he sees Mike's expectant attention is on him he says, “Um, since birth I would think?”
Mike huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, that makes sense.”
Only a few seconds pass before the waitress arrives with their food, setting the plates in front of them. It’s the same thing they’ve had every night this week: breakfast for dinner – pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs and coffee.
Mike reaches for the syrup and starts pouring it all over everything.
Will grins. “Disgusting.”
“You like it too!”
“Only because you brainwashed me for years.”
They settle into eating, the easy silence of people who’ve done this a hundred times before. There’s the sound of thunder again, much closer now.
Will glances toward the glass. “We’re gonna get soaked.”
They hurry through the last few bites, tossing cash on the table. Mike pauses just long enough to grab the napkin portrait. When he looks up, he catches Will watching him, smiling. Then they’re pushing through the diner door and into the dark.
***
"I’m gonna get one last smoke in before it starts pouring." Mike says when they reach the stoop.
Will nods but gives him a look, “You know I hate that, right?”
Mike freezes like a deer caught in headlights, cigarette and lighter already poised at his mouth. He flicks the flame anyway, takes a drag, then winces as he exhales a not-so-guilty “sorry” in a cloud of smoke.
Will sticks his tongue out at him and it makes Mike laugh. He does it right back, adding an obnoxious little jeer, and Will shakes his head as he disappears behind the heavy front door.
He doesn’t like upsetting Will, but it’s one of the brief moments of relaxation he can get most days. Mike finishes the last of his coffee from the diner and drops the empty cup at his feet, leaning back against the brick wall.
The city hums around him – cars rolling past on a nearby street, distant laughter, faint music from somewhere down the block. At night it all blends together into something kind of comforting. Right now, the city doesn't suffocate him the way it does during the day, it feels more like being held. He wonders if going home, it’ll be too quiet now. A few raindrops fall on his nose – his cue to head back inside.
He walks the two flights up to Will's studio apartment and knocks on the door. Will opens it and immediately turns away, heading back to the far wall where his bed is.
“I’m on the phone with my mom.” He climbs back on the bed with his legs crossed, already in his pajamas. It's a variation of the same thing Mike's seen him wear every night in living memory. Sweatpants and an oversized band tee, tonight it’s 'The Cure'.
“Hey, I’m back. No, it was just Mike at the door. He’s a smoker now.” Will's face twists in dramatic disgust for only Mike to see.
He can hear Joyce’s garbled voice on the other end, “Yeah well, it’s bad for you!" Will leans back against the headboard, "Oh my god, between you and Hop, Jonathan and now Mike, it’s like a full-time job trying to save the people I love from lung cancer.”
Mike raises his eyebrows at the casual use of the word love. Of course, he knows Will loves him. He loves Will too. He loves all of their friends. It’s just…interesting, how easily Will says it. Mike can’t remember the last time he did.
“Ok I’ll tell him.” Will looks up just as Mike reaches the bathroom door. “She says she can’t wait to see you next week.”
“Tell her I’m looking forward to it too.” Mike smiles, already halfway through the door. Then he pauses. “Oh– and ask her if it’s ok that my dress is white.”
It earns a burst of laughter from Will and Mike grins, ducking into the bathroom as the phone conversation continues.
When he comes back out, Will is lying on the bed with his arms thrown over his face.
“Tired already?”
Will peers at him from under his forearms, then makes a little grunt as he sits up straight.
“Nope. Just thinking. What should we do for your last night?”
They toss around a few half-hearted ideas. The rain is really starting to come down now, the steady drum of it against the window tells them they’ll definitely be staying in. As if going out was ever actually on the table – they’re both in pajamas already.
They’ve spent every night this week doing the same thing, in the same order – TV for a few hours, then Will heads to his bed, Mike stretches out on the couch, they talk until one of them passes out mid-sentence. It's easy. It’s nice. But it’s also his last night.
Mike gets an idea, “Truth or dare.” He says it with a smug grin like it’s an obvious winner.
Will laughs at him. “What is this, eighth grade?”
“It’s a classic!”
Will considers him for a moment, then rolls off the bed and walks past Mike to the fridge.
“Ok but– “ he reaches into the freezer and pulls something out, “–grown up version.”
Mike meets him a few steps across the room and takes the bottle from his hand to inspect the label. Vodka. Yep, that'll do it.
"Will Byers, you've been holding out on me."
He grins, "So it's truth or dare or, if you don't want to do either, you have to take a shot."
"Or– " Mike mimics the way he put emphasis on the word, "–we could just get drunk."
"Or that," Will laughs. "My idea's more fun though. I like the stakes."
Mike agrees, but he doesn't want to give Will the satisfaction of being the more creative of the two, as usual. So he flops onto the couch and says, "Ugh– fine," as if he's annoyed – not hiding the big smile on his face that Will can see.
***
They get settled on the couch, facing each other like rivals. Mike tries to maintain the intense eye contact that Will started, but he can’t help himself, he breaks. He just thinks it’s so funny how competitive Will is.
“Ok who goes first?” Mike asks once he regains his composure.
“Me.”
“Why you?”
“Because it’s my apartment and it’s my vodka.”
“I thought you said ‘mi casa es tu casa’.” He actually did say that on the first day, it was hilariously awkward. “Ergo, tu vodka es mi vodka.”
“Truth or dare?” Will completely disregards his rebuttal.
“Uh- we’re starting? Ok, dare.”
“I dare you to shut up.”
Mike makes a face and considers pacifism, but he can’t just take that sitting down. He lunges across the couch at Will, putting an arm around his neck and starts punching the air above his head, pretending to beat him up. He settles for messing up his hair and then sits back on his side.
“You’re so easy to rile up.” Will laughs, running his hands over the top of his head.
Mike scoffs. “Just start.”
“Ok let me think of an actual dare.” He looks behind Mike for half a minute, then smirks. “Got one. I dare you to quit smoking.”
Mike buries his head in his hands, an exasperated sound escaping him. Without looking up, he holds out his hand for the bottle.
Will laughs, “Literally picking your poison.”
Mike puts the bottle to his lips and makes an ‘mhm’ sound before tipping his head back. Huh, it’s worse than he remembers but at least it’s warm going down.
Mike clears his throat a little, “Ok my turn. Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
Mike already knows what he’s gonna say, “I dare you to smoke a cigarette.”
Will crinkles his nose at the idea and simply grabs the bottle from Mike. He maintains eye contact as he takes the shot, then a deep breath. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Was that the first time you’ve seen a naked woman?”
Oh wow, this really isn’t eighth grade.
“Uh- no.”
Will stares at him like he’s expecting more.
“What? I don’t have to elaborate, do I? I told the truth.”
Will rolls his eyes, “Don’t be fucking boring.”
“Ask the right questions and I’ll tell you more.”
Will opens his mouth to speak but Mike cuts him off, “Ah- no. It’s my turn.” He thinks for a moment – does he want to just keep asking the mirrored version of whatever Will comes up with? Or should he try to find a new interesting avenue to explore?
No, he’s curious. He’s been curious since earlier today.
“Was that the first time you’ve seen a naked man?”
“You didn’t give me the option to take a dare.”
“Oh right, sorry. Truth or dare?”
“It’s fine.” He looks at Mike, tilting his head to the side a fraction. “No.”
“Outside of that class, I mean.” Mike knows Will knows what he’s asking.
“You’re cheating.” Will smirks, “The answer is still no.”
Mike feels his stomach drop again in a way that makes no sense to him. He’s suddenly very aware of the sound of rain hitting the window and the curious gaze of the boy sitting across from him. He reaches for the vodka.
Will’s turn, “In what setting did you see this naked woman?”
“No more dares then, huh?”
“Oh.” Will blushes slightly at his own eagerness to ask more prying questions.
“It’s fine. What setting?” He repeats the question before answering, “Uh- well…it was a dark and stormy night, much like this one, in a midwestern dorm room.”
Will huffs out a little laugh in response, but doesn’t ask anything else. He reaches for the vodka too – it seems they’ll stick to some of the rules of the game, but not the one about pacing themselves. Mike’s fine with that. They started with heavy hitters and he knows it’ll only get more uncomfortable from here. Taking the edge off with alcohol sounds like a good idea.
Mike knows it’s his turn and he knows the next question he should be asking if they’re going to follow this pattern. He’s not sure he wants to ask it though, he wonders how hearing the answer will make him feel.
The phone rings and startles them both – Will gets up to answer it. Mike gathers from what he can hear that it’s Jonathan, calling to talk logistics for the wedding next week.
“Give me like ten minutes.” Will says from the other side of the room. Mike nods.
He stretches out on the couch so his head is now resting where Will was sitting. From this angle, the apartment looks different – somehow even smaller.
He spots a stack of worn sketchbooks next to a box of art supplies and his face lights up. Mike rolls off the couch and crawls over to the corner – he grabs the top one ready to start flipping through when he realizes he should probably ask permission. It’s not like when they were kids and they shared everything without question. The game they’re in the midst of is proof of that. There are parts of their lives that they’ve kept private from one another.
Will is half-turned away, nodding at something Jonathan is saying. Mike walks over and crouches near the bed.
“Hey,” he whispers.
Will covers the receiver with his hand. “Yeah?”
Mike lifts the sketchbook, “Can I?”
Will’s eyebrows lift in question at first, then understanding registers. For a second, he seems to weigh it, but then he nods once.
“Yeah,” he mouths.
Mike gives him a quick, grateful smile and retreats back to the couch, sketchbook in hand. He settles in and opens it somewhere near the middle. The first pages he lands on are from California, he can tell immediately from the palm trees and the date ending with the year 1986.
He starts flipping through, real-life scenes mix with fantastical creatures and landscapes. Mike realizes distantly that he's smiling, this is so much fun. He’s missed the chance to explore Will’s world – it’s amazing how he holds all of this behind his eyes. Even more amazing how he’s able to translate it to the page.
Most pages aren’t full scenes at all – just crowded to the margins with whatever was in Will’s head at the time. Multifaceted dice from different angles. Mundane objects from around his room like socks or cups. The same sword drawn over and over, sometimes ornate, sometimes just a quick slash of pencil. Half-formed creatures. Faces. Bits of armor.
And then there’s something else. Small, usually in the corner – sometimes bold, sometimes barely there. A heart with a little crown perched above it.
Mike stills. He knows that symbol. He’s seen it almost every day for the last four years.
He flips backward, slower now. The drawings simplify. The year shifts to 1985 – Hawkins.
It’s there too. Messier, but unmistakable.
The crowned heart shows up more consistently than anything else in the book. Like it’s the thing he comes back to when he’s not thinking.
Mike traces the edge of the page with his thumb.
He flips forward again.
The years climb. 1987. 1988. 1989.
It appears less and less, until eventually it's gone.
Then–
A page dated from this year catches his eye, a handful of rough sketches of people in the park. He’s seen Will work on these before. Gesture drawings, that’s what he calls them. Quick lines, capturing movement before it disappears. Judging by the heavy coats and knit hats, it must’ve been winter. In the lower corner – almost like an afterthought – there it is again. The crowned heart. He stares at it a beat longer this time.
“You picked the worst one.”
Mike jumps slightly, he didn't realize Will had finished his conversation.
“Oh– sorry,” Will adds quickly, he’s leaning over the back of the couch. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Mike lets out a short laugh and shifts upright, the sketchbook falling closed in his lap.
“I was just immersed in your world.”
Will huffs. “That one’s mostly doodles and thumbnails.”
“No, there’s some awesome stuff in here.” Mike flips it open again and turns to one of the fantasy landscapes – a ruined tower rising out of jagged cliffs, an angry sea below, a sky with two moons above. “I could write a whole story set in this world.”
Will’s expression brightens immediately. “You should. That’d be fun. I could illustrate and you could write. Like when we worked on campaigns together.”
Mike can see it instantly. Late nights, notes and half-colored drawings scattered across a table. It feels easy to imagine. For a second, they’re both somewhere else entirely.
Will straightens suddenly.
“I want snacks.”
Mike blinks. “Huh?”
“The rain stopped,” Will says, already grabbing his hoodie. “So I wanna go down to the corner store for snacks, will you come with me?”
Mike glances toward the window. The city outside is damp and shining under the streetlights.
“Yeah,” Mike says, standing. “Side quest.”
Will grins.
***
The rain hasn’t fully stopped, just thinned to a fine mist by the time they step outside. They walk shoulder to shoulder, heading toward a busier street where taxis hiss past on the wet pavement. The ground shines under the streetlights, turning the city into something doubled and slightly unreal. It looks deep enough to fall into.
Will reaches for a basket at the entrance.
“I thought you said we’re just grabbing snacks.”
“I need milk and stuff too.” He disappears down an aisle before Mike can argue.
Mike follows, already wishing they were done. He hates grocery stores, if this place can even be called that. The lights overhead buzz in a way that puts him on edge.
Will reaches for something on a top shelf, but it’s pushed too far back. He rises onto the balls of his feet and stretches again. The movement lifts the hem of his hoodie and the t-shirt underneath. Mike notices his waist, his boxers peeking over the top of his sweatpants, an inch or two of skin above that.
“Help me.”
Mike blinks, realizing he’s been staring, “Oh.”
He doesn’t even need to stretch. His hand hovers briefly over a bottle of shampoo, silently checking.
“No, the one next to it.”
Mike grabs it and drops it into the nearly full basket.
“Thanks.”
They add a few snacks at the front before heading to the counter.
The cashier looks up and grins. “Reese’s Pieces guy.”
Will laughs, “That’s me.”
Mike feels something sharp and strange twist in him. There was a time when he’d been one of maybe three people in the world who knew Will’s favorite candy. Now some guy with a neck tattoo behind a counter in New York does too.
***
They step back outside with the plastic bag rustling between them. They don’t make it halfway down the block before the word cuts through the night.
“–faggots!”
Mike slows automatically.
Up ahead, just outside the bar they’d passed earlier, a guy stumbles onto the sidewalk. Two men stand nearby. One of them is already halfway into the street with his arm raised, trying to flag down a cab. The other stands on the curb, holding himself with his arms tight across his chest, bouncing nervously. He peers back at the man.
The drunk guy laughs, “Yeah, I’m talking to you.”
Will’s hand tightens on Mike’s sleeve. “C’mon.”
Mike doesn’t move.
The guy on the curb looks small in a way that makes something in Mike’s chest go rigid. He’s turned away from the guy yelling at him, like if he doesn’t engage it won’t escalate.
The drunk takes a step forward. Neither of the other men notice.
“–said I’m talkin' to you, fag!” He moves again – more abrupt this time, shoulders squared, energy shifting from loud to aggressive.
Mike doesn’t think.
“Hey!”
He drops the bag and closes the distance in three strides, grabbing the guy by the shoulders from behind.
“Fuck off! Leave them a–”
The drunk swings around wildly and catches Mike in the mouth.
“Mike!”
The world tilts, he blinks as his vision blurs at the edges, his ears ring. He bends forward without meaning to, hands braced on his knees. Something warm spills into his mouth. He spits. Blood hits the wet pavement and blooms outward in the rainwater. There are hands on Mike’s shoulders now. Will’s. He hears things distantly – a car door slamming, tires rolling away, a door opening and heavy footsteps.
“Hey!” someone barks. “I told you – you can get home in a cab or in a cop car, but you gotta get the fuck outta here.”
“Fuckin’ faggots,” the drunk mutters, already backing off.
Will’s voice is right by his face, “Mike, hey. Hey.”
Mike straightens slowly. His lip throbs and his jaw aches, but he’s fine.
Will’s face is pale in the streetlight. He looks so shaken.
“You ok?” Will’s hands hover near his face like he doesn’t know where it’s safe to touch.
“I’m fine,” Mike says automatically, even though he can feel the split in his lip with his tongue.
The guy who scared off the drunk – probably a bartender – lingers nearby. “He ok? You can come inside, I’ll get you a rag.”
Will shakes his head. “No, we’re good. I live right around the corner.”
“Alright.” The door swings shut behind him.
And then it’s just the two of them on the sidewalk again.
“C’mon,” Will says softly, “Let’s get you home.”
***
Will presses a damp rag to Mike’s lip, they're sitting knee to knee on the couch. It's another great opportunity for him to notice details up close – how long Will's eyelashes are and how many freckles he has from walking in the summer sun. Will catches him staring and Mike looks away quickly.
“I gah a uh er lie ih i ih ow.”
Will slowly lowers the rag and stares at Mike, confused.
“…try that again.”
Mike smirks, then immediately winces.
“I’ve got another line in my lip now.”
Will’s smile reaches his eyes before he returns to soberly inspecting the damage. “Yes, you do. But you look better with one, so let me heal you.”
“Es, i eric.”
Will pulls back again, laughing now. “What? Who’s Eric?”
Mike cracks up despite the sting, clutching his jaw. “I said, ‘Yes, my cleric.’”
Will laughs harder. Mike teases, repeating the misheard words under his breath, “‘Who’s Eric?’ Eric’s my boyfriend. I told you about him.”
Will shoves his shoulder lightly and tosses the rag onto the coffee table. “Fine. I give up on you.”
“No you don’t,” Mike says. “You never will.”
He says it like a joke, but something in Will’s expression flickers.
Mike touches his lip again to check, no more blood.
“Thanks,” he says. “Much better.”
A quiet settles between them, the earlier ease of the evening hasn’t quite returned.
“That was very paladin of you,” Will says eventually. “Defending those guys.”
Mike shrugs, “I don’t know what happened. I just got so mad seeing– and then I imagined you–”
He stops and his jaw tightens. Mike stares somewhere past Will, the moment replaying too clearly in his mind. Will replaces the man on the curb. A stranger yells at him, moves to put their hands on him. Mike’s face gets hot, the top of his head feels like it could explode.
“Hey.” Will’s gentle voice is grounding, “I’m ok. I’m right here with you. Safe.”
He rubs slow circles on Mike’s hand where it’s gripping the couch. It pulls Mike back but not all the way, he still can't meet Will's eyes.
“Has that ever happened to you?” Mike has to know. He doesn’t know what he’ll do about it but he needs to know anyway.
His eyes return to Will’s, waiting for an answer.
“No.”
Mike lets out a little breath. Will searches his face for a second.
“Mike…”
He suddenly realizes how intense he’s being, pushing the fun night they’d been building together even further away. He forces a breath in through his nose and pushes himself up off the couch.
“Where are those snacks we almost died for?”
Will doesn’t move right away. It takes him a second to follow the shift.
“Uh– counter.”
Mike digs through the bag and tosses a pack of Reese’s Pieces toward him. Will catches it automatically. Mike tears open his M&M’s and drops back onto the couch. He dumps a handful into his mouth while he stares at the ceiling. His lip throbs in time with his pulse.
“Who’s turn is it?”
Will glances at him. “We’re still playing?”
“Yeah. Why not?” Mike pushes himself upright. “You don’t wanna play anymore?”
Will studies him for a second.
“I mean…I do,” he says carefully. “Just didn’t think you would.”
Mike shrugs.
He doesn’t know exactly what he wants to ask. Just that he doesn’t want the night to end on that sidewalk. Plus, he’s curious about something. He rolls another candy between his fingers before tossing it into his mouth.
“Your turn,” he says.
Will shifts on the couch, “My turn to ask?”
“Sure.”
“Ok,” he says slowly, “Truth or dare.”
“Truth.”
Will nods once, he starts tearing at the candy wrapper as he thinks. Mike watches him, waiting to see which direction he’ll go – back toward where they left off, or somewhere safer.
“What’s your most embarrassing middle school memory?”
Mike exhales a quiet laugh through his nose. Safe. That’s not what he wants.
“You were there, you probably know better than I do.”
“Pfft– I don’t know what you’d find embarrassing. I could take a guess, but I’m not the one in the hot seat right now.” He narrows his eyes at Mike playfully. Good – at least the mood is lightening.
“Uhh– " he rifles through his mind for a memory, "Oh. Definitely that time when I tried to look cool parking my bike. I wanted to hop off at the last second, but instead I rode it straight into the rack at full speed and smashed my balls.” He starts laughing because Will is already cracking up, “I almost barfed.”
“Oh my god, I remember that,” he has tears in his eyes from laughing so hard and a pout on his face like he still feels bad for Mike’s pain, “You cried, I think.”
“Yeah, can you blame me? I’ll never have kids!”
They’re still grinning when the laughter finally tapers off – the room feels warmer now. Mike leans back into the couch cushions, watching Will’s face settle.
“Do you still want the option to pick dare?” he asks.
Will takes a second to think, “I like that we keep picking truth. We’re filling in the gaps,” he pauses and looks at the neglected vodka. “But if we wanna skip a question…”
He finishes his sentence by taking a small sip from the bottle.
“Ok.” Mike reaches for the bottle and takes a sip too as he looks at the wall across from him. He taps his knees, considering his next question.
“What’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?”
It’s perfect – adjacent to the embarrassing story question but still points them back in the direction Mike wants to go.
“Worst date?” Will repeats.
“Yeah.”
Will shifts slightly, adjusting his posture like he’s buying time.
“Well, there was this guy from Art History last semester that asked me out,” Will starts, he eyes Mike before continuing.
Mike keeps his expression neutral.
“I thought maybe we’d get coffee but he just invited me over to his place…his apartment was so disgusting, he had takeout containers and dirty laundry everywhere.” He makes a face, crinkling his nose like he can smell the memory.
Mike snorts, then waits to see if there’s more to the story.
“That sounds gross.”
“It was.” Will says, he looks at the bottle.
“So, that’s it? The date sucked because he was gross?”
“Yup.”
Mike knows there’s more to the story but Will obviously doesn’t want to share.
“Ok well…your turn to ask me something.”
Will’s shoulders drop a fraction, relieved he’s not being pressed.
“Um, same question. Worst date?”
Shit. Mike knew he’d probably get the question turned back on him. If it was Dustin or Lucas, he’d just make something up. But it’s Will. So he tells the truth.
“I’ve never actually been on a date. Besides El, obviously.”
“Really?” Will looks genuinely shocked, but not at all like he’s planning to tease Mike about it.
“Yeah. I mean, no one in high school. You know that. And then this past year…I didn’t really leave my dorm much. Wasn’t feeling super social.” He laughs the last bit out, trying to lighten the confession.
Will studies him, “Did you make any friends?”
The question is gentle and sincere – it still stings a little. No, he didn’t make friends. There were a few people early on who made an effort, but they backed off pretty immediately when Mike made it clear he wasn’t interested.
The mood is turning depressing, that’s not the plan.
“I didn’t want friends,” he says bluntly, “Anyway, it’s my turn to ask a question.”
Will furrows his brow. He looks like he might press, but lets it go.
"Ok shoot."
"Did you find that guy attractive?"
There's a flash of confusion until Mike clarifies, "The model." Then Will smiles, his eyes flicking over Mike's face.
"I mean, he's a model. He's objectively attractive."
"That's such a bullshit answer."
"What? It's true!"
"So that's your type? Muscle-y, braindead pretty boys?"
"David’s not braindead. He graduated from Brown.”
“You know him?!” Mike chokes out.
Will is laughing hard again, “Yeah. I talked to him after class one time.”
Mike doesn’t know what to think or what to say, Will continues to laugh at Mike as he clearly has an existential crisis over the revelation.
“Of course his name is fucking David,” Mike mutters.
Will’s laughter slows, “What do you mean?”
“Because he’s like a statue or something. Too…perfect.”
The laughter picks up again. “I’m gonna tell him that. He’ll love it.”
“Ew no. Don’t use my jokes to flirt with other guys.”
Will gets that look on his face again, like Mike confounds him and he’s trying to figure him out.
“He’s not gay, Mike. He has a fiancée.”
Mike’s stomach unclenches, he didn’t realize he was starting to feel sick.
“Oh cool,” he can’t just leave it there so he adds, “congrats to them.”
“Yeah.”
Will lays back on the couch, “So did you find her attractive? The model?” he asks the ceiling.
Mike scoffs, “Sure I guess. She had nice…” he trails off and finishes by hovering his hands over his own chest.
“Nice what?” Will can’t see what he’s doing so he lifts his head a little, “Oh. Boobs?”
He starts cracking up and covers his face with his hands. The movement lifts his shirt and Mike sees his waist again, this time from the front, he notices a light trail of hair that disappears below his boxers.
“Mike, you can’t say the word boobs?”
“I can say it!” To his horror, his voice cracks at the end. Will laughs even harder until he’s out of breath. Mike kicks him in the shin.
“Are you actually a prude?” Will sits up halfway, leaning on his elbows.
“No! But I…” Is he gonna say it? Is he really going to offer this up freely? He looks at the bottle, then back to Will. It's Will who breaks the silence.
“You’re a virgin?”
There it is. He was going to say inexperienced but Will went straight for the kill.
“Yeah.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing, I’m just…surprised. There’s nothing wrong with it,” he watches Mike for a moment before he adds, “I mean…me too.”
Mike’s heart is pounding in his chest suddenly. He didn’t realize he was afraid of the opposite being true. He’s really not sure why.
“You are?”
“Yeah. Um,” he takes a breath through his nose and sits forward again, looking down at his crossed legs. “I got close one time. The date I told you about. He really wanted to, he was pretty pushy about it to be honest.”
Mike’s jaw clenches.
“But I got scared and ran off.” He finishes quickly, like it’s nothing.
Mike doesn’t know what to say so he just says his name.
“Will…”
“It’s fine. Nothing happened.”
Mike feels sick again. “Did he hurt you?”
“What?” he looks up at Mike, brow tense, “No. He was just…pushy. Like I said. I actually don’t wanna talk about it.”
Will stands up and walks to the kitchen, “I’m getting water, want some?”
“Yeah, thanks.” His mouth and throat do feel really dry.
Mike’s eyes go to the corner of the room, to the stack of sketchbooks, and he remembers what he wants to ask. But he feels further away from a natural opening than when they started.
Will hands Mike his glass before he sits back down on the couch, leaving more space between them now.
“Are you excited to visit Dustin?”
Fuck. Will is leading them to calmer waters – back to casual, back to small talk.
“Sure,” he pauses, “I’m guessing his classes won’t be nearly as fun as yours, though. Theoretical physics isn’t really a sexy subject.”
“Hey, it worked for him. That’s how he met his girlfriend.”
“Dustin has a girlfriend?” Mike is so out of the loop.
Will eyes him over his glass as he finishes taking a sip, “Yes…for like six months now. He’s bringing her to the wedding. Mike, how did you not know that?”
“Uh. I forgot.” He does remember something now – Dustin asking if he had room in the car for…Sally? They have plans to carpool together from Princeton to Montauk at the end of next week.
“Sally, right?”
"...are you thinking of Suzie?"
“Right, Suzie. They both end with y.”
"Mike, you met Suzie...they broke up like four years ago. "
"Oh...so new girlfriend's name is...?"
"Emily."
He tries to catch the name as Will's saying it, "Ehh-mily. Yeah. I knew that."
Will stares at him, incredulous. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“There are too many people, too many names to remember!”
“Mike, you can remember the names of every villager and foe in a campaign, but you can’t remember our best friend’s girlfriend?”
“You make me sound like an asshole,” Mike jokes.
Will just raises his eyebrows and shrugs as he takes another sip of his water. “I didn’t say it.”
There's laughter, but it’s tired now. Mike senses the shift, he sees he won’t be offered a perfect chance tonight, so he has to take it for himself. His throat tightens.
“One more before bed?”
Will yawns while nodding, “Sure.”
Mike reaches under the table, almost falling off the couch to grab it. He opens the sketchbook to a random page, searches the margins and finds what he’s looking for – he feels like he might throw up.
Will watches him silently until Mike meets his eyes.
“Mike, what– "
He doesn’t know how to ask this, how do you ask this? So he lets the words just come out, and he knows they’re the wrong ones as soon as he says them.
“Why did you lie?” His voice is so quiet – his finger rests on the page, right next to the crowned heart.
Will notices what he’s pointing at and freezes, it feels like forever before he finally moves. He looks up and suddenly Mike is staring back at the boy he knew in Hawkins, small and scared. He didn’t mean to make him feel that way.
“I’m sorry, I– " Mike starts. He wishes he knew what he was going to say before he says it, but he’s flying blind. “Look– I know the painting wasn’t from El. I just…don’t understand why you would lie about it.”
Will looks like he wants to run away. He takes almost an entire minute before he speaks. When he does, his voice comes out a little choked, “I don’t know.”
Mike’s heart is pounding in his chest, “I think you do.”
“I don’t know. I just– I thought it would…help you.”
“Help?”
Mike thinks back to that time, how confusing everything was after California. Between him and El. Between him and Will. He always felt split, like he was floating in some limbo above those relationships. Trying to see from a better vantage point what the fuck was going on. Never truly there with either of them.
“How was lying supposed to help me?” He keeps using that word. It’s a heavy accusation in their circle. But Will did lie, and Mike realizes now how angry he is about it. Will looks angrier.
“Why does it even matter?”
“It matters because you lied.”
“About a stupid painting?”
“It’s not stupid to me!"
“Mike! What do you want from me!” The question is desperate and so loud, it fills the entire room, knocking the fight out of them both. Will’s eyes brim with tears.
“Will…”
The look on Will's face softens from anger to something so devastating, it breaks Mike’s heart. Tears fall fast from his eyes and Mike reaches out without thinking, brushing them away with his thumbs.
The sadness in his eyes, the feeling of Will going still in his hands – it all mingles in Mike’s chest, creating some chemical reaction that threatens to choke him. His head starts to hurt, pressure building up like he’s holding his breath underwater. Words, he needs the right words to fix this. He tries to open his mouth, hoping they’ll come out naturally. He has to fix this. He has to. He has to…
It’s almost involuntary the way he moves next, truly like their faces had become magnetic. Before he can even think to stop himself, Mike leans in to touch his lips to Will’s.
And it feels so right, like the only solution to an impossible problem. For the briefest moment, neither of them move, there’s just trembling breaths. Then Will is pressing his lips against Mike’s and his hand is on Mike’s jaw and oh god, he’s kissing Will. Their lips move against each other, parting a little more every time they connect. Will lets out a breathy sigh into Mike’s mouth and it sets his heart racing.
“Mike– please–” Will speaks against his lips.
He doesn’t know which one does it – hearing his name or the word please – but the desperation in Will’s voice makes Mike feel insane. He pushes even closer, rising up on his knees, grabbing Will by the back of the neck and Will’s hands are on Mike’s shoulders to pull him in–
No– he’s pushing. Mike’s head tips forward as Will’s lips leave his. He opens his eyes to see Will inching his face away, trying to catch his breath with his eyes still closed.
“Please– don’t do this to me.”
Mike is frozen, trying to find his way back into his body. He feels unbelievably dizzy as he sits back on his heels to give Will space. He’s so disoriented, his mind feels like a VCR rewinding.
Will brushes his hand over his own mouth, looking even more upset than before.
“Why did you do that?”
Mike doesn’t answer, he doesn’t know how to.
“Mike. Why?” His voice shakes, demanding an answer.
“I don’t know!” Mike says in a panic, “I just…did.”
Will stares at him.
“Yeah well you can’t just do that, ok?” His voice is firm now, “Not with me. Not if you’re–“ he gestures at all of Mike, “–confused. I don’t fucking know.”
“Confused? What–”
“Don’t play stupid.”
The sudden coldness in his tone surprises Mike. Will's angry, then he's sad, then he's kissing Mike back, then he's angry again – it’s giving him whiplash. He is confused, and not just in the way Will's implying. His frustration builds until the words come crashing out of him.
“What because I’m not out as gay? So I’m supposed to announce it to a room full of people before I’m even sure of it myself?”
The words hit Will like a slap. For a horrible moment, he just stares at Mike. His wide eyes go from shocked hurt to something resolute, and he stands up from the couch.
“No– Will– I didn’t mean it like that.” Mike tries to grab his wrist so he’ll stay with him, but Will yanks it away.
“Yeah, Mike. You never mean it. That’s the problem.” He walks around the room, gathering things and stuffing them into his bag. “You didn’t mean to kiss me. You didn’t mean to hurt me. I can’t– I can’t do this anymore.”
Mike is up, following behind Will as he packs haphazardly.
“Will– wha? What does that mean– where are you going?”
“I can’t be here. I’m going to Jonathan’s.”
“What the fuck? Why? Will, wait.”
He’s already at the door, pulling it open. Without thinking Mike rushes to block him, reaching over Will’s right shoulder to stop the door with his hand.
“Will. Please.”
Will doesn’t fight him. He just lets go, lets Mike shut the door. When he turns around, he looks so tired.
“I’m sorry, ok? I shouldn’t have said that.”
Will doesn’t respond, it’s like he’s not there behind his eyes anymore. The silence stretches and Mike searches Will’s face for anything at all. He wishes he could undo the last ten minutes. Wishes he knew exactly what to say to make it right. He pauses before adding the words he doesn’t mean.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Will’s eyes roam over Mike’s face slowly – lips parting like he might speak, but he doesn’t. Instead he gently takes Mike’s free hand and turns it over to place something inside.
“Leave them under the mat tomorrow.”
Mike stares at the keys in his hand, frozen in place. The sound of the door clicking shut feels like being punched again.
How did this happen? How did he fuck this up so badly? He hears thunder and realizes it’s raining again, probably has been for a while. The seconds pass, there’s another crash of thunder.
This time it jolts him into action.
He shoves the keys in his pocket and runs down the two flights of stairs, skipping the last several in one idiotic jump, and scrambles to the door just as it’s closing.
“Will!”
“Let me go.” His voice is void of emotion.
“No. You’re not walking in this alone at night. You’re insane.”
They stand together under the awning, which does little to protect them from the rain coming in sideways.
“I’ve lived here for almost a year, Mike. I know how to take care of myself,” his flat tone is now colored with annoyance, “I’m getting a cab anyway.”
“I don’t care. I’m not letting you go.”
“Oh you’re not letting me?” Will scoffs, “Who are you to tell me what to do?”
Mike hesitates, “I’m your best friend.”
Something bitter flashes in Will’s eyes.
“Best friends don’t do what you just did.”
Mike buries his head in his hands, his fingers grasping tufts of his hair like it’ll keep him from falling off the edge of a cliff.
“I said I was sorry! I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking, it just happened.”
“That makes it worse! Don’t you see that?”
Mike doesn’t see anything, not clearly anyway. Only that Will is leaving, and he can't let that happen.
“Please. I just wanna talk.”
“About what? The painting? Fine. I’m sorry I lied and said it was from El. I still don’t understand why that matters so much to you.”
“Yes you do. Now you’re the one playing dumb.”
Will stares at him.
“Fuck you.”
The words stun Mike, pinning him in place, and Will takes the opportunity to start walking away from him down the steps.
“Fuck me?” Mike follows behind him, not caring at all that he’s getting drenched. His voice is already loud but he has to raise it to be heard above the storm. “Fuck you for lying to me for so goddamn long. Do you know how confusing this has been for me?”
Will laughs, still walking away. Mike glares at his back – the casual cruelty throws him off so much that he grabs Will by the arm and forces him to turn around, rougher than he means to be.
“Stop.” They stare at each other’s rain-soaked faces, he barely recognizes Will. “Why are you being like this?”
Mike holds him there too tightly – waiting for him, hoping for him to say something – then he drops Will’s arm pathetically. He can’t even look at Will, it hurts too much. He turns his gaze away toward the brick wall and sees no difference. The paper cup he dropped earlier is being pelted with raindrops, overflowing, trying hopelessly to catch the deluge.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice catches on the words.
Will is barely audible over the rain, “What difference would it have made?”
“I don’t know…”
It’s the worst part. He really doesn’t.
“...but you kept this from me for so long, Will.”
Mike finally looks at him again, and gestures helplessly at all the space between them, “This– it’s been confusing...for years…and maybe if you had just told me…”
“If I just told you what?” His voice is flat but there's pain in his eyes.
“How you felt! I don’t know. If you had just told me the truth…then maybe–”
“Mike…”
Will glances at the sky like he’s asking for help.
“…why's it my responsibility to make you make sense to yourself? It was hard enough for me to see who I was. How I felt.”
He doesn’t sound angry, he’s at the end of his rope. He pauses, then exhales a tired breath, “You wouldn’t have wanted to hear it.”
“You didn’t even give me the chance.”
“I was scared.”
“So am I!”
Thunder cracks overhead, so loud it makes Mike feel hollow. The rain is relentless, soaking through his clothes, plastering his hair to his forehead.
“I’m fucking terrified, Will.” His voice breaks completely now, “I’m so–”
The weight of the years comes crashing down on him. Years of something suspended just out of reach. Never being able, or brave enough, to name what he must have known somewhere deep down.
He squeezes his eyes shut to stop the stinging tears. Backwards and forwards in time, all he sees is Will. And he’s about to lose him – probably for good this time – because he’s been too blind and too stupid and too weak and too late. The thought makes it impossible to breathe.
Mike wants to cover his face, he doesn’t want to be seen anymore. When he lifts his arms, his left hits something solid. He opens his eyes – there’s less distance between them now – Will's tentatively holding his arm and gives it a light tug.
Mike closes the space between them without a word.
He falls forward into Will, doesn’t even try to hold himself together. Will’s arms come up around him immediately, one firm around his middle, the other sliding up to cradle the back of his neck like he’s afraid Mike might come apart in his hands. Mike's back hunches as a sob escapes his chest and Will holds him tighter.
“It’s ok.” Will whispers into the side of his head.
They stay like that for he’s not sure how long – long enough that the rain is slowing and the thunder sounds further away, no longer a threat.
“Please come back inside.” His voice is muffled in the crook of Will’s neck.
He pulls away to meet Will’s eyes, terrified he’ll see hesitation there, but he doesn’t. There’s softness again. Will searches his face, then carefully brushes the wet hair out of Mike’s eyes. His fingers linger at his temple for a beat before falling away.
“Ok.”
“Ok?” Mike’s voice is so pathetic to his own ears. If he didn’t feel like he was just crushed under the weight of the world, he’d laugh at himself for it.
He follows as Will leads them back inside.
***
Mike has maybe thirty steps to figure out what to say once they’re back in the apartment. Thirty steps to dismantle and reconstruct fifteen years. The echoed squeaking of their soaked sneakers feels absurd against the magnitude of it all.
They make it to the door and Will turns to face him, looking at Mike expectantly. Is he supposed to say something already? Mike opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a strangled sound.
“Keys?” Will says, holding out his hand.
When Mike doesn’t move, Will pats his pockets, reaches inside, and pulls them free himself. He unlocks the door and they step inside, it shuts behind them with a solid click.
Mike’s heart is pounding.
He has to say something. “Will, we should–”
He’s cut off by Will taking his face in both hands...and kissing him. It’s so soft yet completely certain, but Mike barely has time to register what’s happening before it’s over and Will is pulling away to look at him.
“Sorry,” Will says, barely above a whisper. “Did you wanna talk first?”
Mike stares at him dumbly, whatever words he was assembling in his mind are now long gone. There’s only Will – his dark green eyes, his perfect lips – and the burning need that’s quickly taking over Mike's entire body. He surges forward to kiss him back with a force that knocks them both off balance and Will lets out a small, surprised sound. He holds onto Mike’s shoulder and grabs his jaw in one hand like it’ll keep them steady.
“Ok,” He breathes, an inch away from Mike’s mouth. “No talking then.”
Mike drags his gaze away from Will’s lips to meet his eyes. He’s still being held at bay as he shakes his head no.
Their mouths crash together again with a dizzying urgency. Will walks him backward without breaking the kiss – fingers gripping the front of his soaked shirt, pushing, guiding, until the back of Mike’s knees hit something. They both fall and there's a loud chorus of overlapping groans, theirs and the springs of the poor old couch.
"Sorry," Will breathes out.
Their foreheads rest against each other, Will's hands on the back of the couch are boxing Mike in. He pulls back, and brings a leg across Mike to straddle him.
"Is this ok?" He asks and apparently Mike is mute now because he can only nod his head.
Will settles himself into Mike’s lap and, god, the weight of him feels so good. Mike brings his hands to Will’s legs and looks down. How is this real? It’s hard to hear anything above his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, but he notices Will’s slow, heavy breathing. He looks up to see that Will’s gaze is focused on the space between their bodies too – attention completely rapt on Mike’s hands as they move slowly up his thighs, to his hips, across his lower stomach. Will’s breath hitches as Mike’s hand sneaks under his shirt, bare skin on bare skin, fingers brushing against the soft hair below his bellybutton.
Mike has never felt this way. The desire is oppressive, it feels like being on a planet with a different atmosphere, the air too dense for his lungs to breathe. His eyelids feel heavy, and his gaze falters on the way up to Will’s face, wanting to linger on every detail.
Will takes Mike’s face in his hands, keeping one at his jaw while the other carefully traces features – his brow, a cheekbone, his mouth. He looks…curious, almost wistful. His eyes shine in the low light. When Will kisses him again, it’s deliberate. He’s slow with his movements, searching, savoring. Mike wants to match his pace, and he tries, but he’s so hungry. He reaches one hand up to tangle in the wet hair at the back of Will’s head and pulls him in. He needs him closer.
He knows this is moving fast, probably too fast for their first time kissing each other. Too fast for how unclear this new shape of them still is. But each thought that tries to gain traction is very quickly derailed by a wave of something electric pulsing through his entire body. It short-circuits his mind, sending buzzing sensations through his hands so he’s doing things before thinking about them, like roughly grabbing Will’s waist and greedily licking into his mouth. Will moans and holy shit, he needs more of that. More more more for the rest of his life until he dies he needs to make Will sound like that.
Their lips barely leave each other’s, breathing hard through their noses until they have to come up for air. Will changes the angle of his mouth and brings it down hard to Mike’s. He feels a slight sting, then notices something hot and slick between their mouths.
“Shit– my lip.”
Will pulls back hazily and Mike can see that there’s a little blood on the corner of his mouth. He touches his fingers gingerly to the spot, as if Will is the one who’s hurt.
“You ok? Should we stop?” Will asks, totally out of breath. His eyes are so dark, the green and gold barely visible anymore.
“No. No. It’s just–” he shows Will the blood on his fingertips, “–getting in your mouth.”
Will licks his own lip in response – checking, tasting – and fuck, why is that so hot?
“I don’t mind.” He lunges back at Mike's mouth to kiss him again.
Mike is so overwhelmed, he feels desperate and insane, like he’ll die if he doesn’t find a way to get closer to Will. He wraps his arms around him to crush their bodies together, pulling Will down as he shifts himself up. The movement makes their hips grind against each other and Will pulls away from Mike’s mouth to moan, even louder than before.
“Will.” Mike says his name like a plea.
They rest their foreheads together, staring into each other’s eyes. Open-mouthed panting replaces kissing as they repeat the movement that felt so good, over and over.
Will’s brows knit together, “Mike– please–”
The words do something to him, it’s like a command spell. He’s not in control of the deep groan that leaves him or the way his hands drop to Will’s ass or that he’s lifting Will up off the couch just enough to lay him on his back. He doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s holding himself above Will, between his legs.
“This ok?” His voice is rough.
Now Will is the one who’s mute. His eyes are wide as he sits up on his elbows. He reaches up to kiss Mike once, then looks into his eyes and nods.
Mike rolls his hips forward experimentally, maintaining eye contact, and he’s so grateful he does because it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Will’s eyes flutter shut, his head slowly falls back over the arm of the couch and he makes a low drawn out ohhh sound. His neck is now completely vulnerable and Mike has to get his mouth on it. He kisses and sucks at the exposed skin as he brings his hips down against Will’s again and again.
The sounds coming from Will are gonna be the end of Mike. Will’s legs are wrapped around him, his hands are in Mike’s hair again, and each thrust makes him grip tighter. It only takes a few more before Will is coming undone beneath him, crying out Mike’s name. And then he’s coming too, cursing as the waves crash through him, intense and blinding.
It takes a minute for his brain to reboot. Mike wants to collapse but he knows Will wouldn’t appreciate being crushed under a soggy man, even if it is his best friend.
His best friend.
Mike just dry humped (technically, wet hum– no ew) the fuck out of his childhood best friend. What the fuck is happening. All at once, the shock of what he just did rolls over him. He feels cold and clammy, mostly because the cooled air from the AC is needling through his damp clothes. And because he just came in his pants and he can feel it – ugh. But it's also because...with Will.
He looks down at him, checking for signs of panic, regret, anything. Will's still catching his breath, his arms are thrown over his face like earlier in the night.
“You ok?” Mike asks.
Will peeks up at him from under his forearms.
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah." He says as he sits up, the shift disguises the wobble in his voice.
Will sits up too, wrapping his arms around his knees. The quiet wraps around them both.
“I get the whole smoking afterwards thing…I kinda want one.” Will muses, then briefly hides his face in his knees like he just said something bad. It might be the most adorable thing Mike has ever seen.
He smiles at Will, “Think that’s only for real sex. And I think, technically, we’re both still virgins.”
“Damn, Wheeler. Already trying to get me in bed?”
“Well, you were so good in couch.” He shrugs and Will laughs.
They still feel like them. Thank god. They still feel like Mike and Will. They watch each other with easy smiles on their faces, probably thinking the exact same thing.
“If I don’t get out of these disgusting clothes and into the shower within five minutes, I’m gonna flip out.” Will says, unsticking his shirt from his skin.
“Ugh– same.”
Will hesitates, “Um– should we…together?”
Mike thinks about it. Why shouldn’t they? It does seem incredibly intimate…but is it really that much more than what they just did?
***
It turns out that yes, it is.
Will leans into the shower to turn it on, looking back at Mike. The pipes complain loudly and then there’s the steady shhh sound of water hitting porcelain.
“It takes a minute to warm up.”
They face each other in the small space, both hesitating, neither moving to take anything off.
Mike swallows. His heart is in his throat again.
“Are you nervous?” Will asks.
“Uh– kinda…yeah.”
“I am too.”
Steam begins to climb the mirror.
“Maybe we should– do it for each other?” Will offers after a long moment.
“Yeah,” Mike croaks out. God, why is he so fucking nervous?
Will takes a cautious step toward him and his eyes drop to the hem of Mike’s shirt. He plays with it for a few seconds before lifting it enough to slide his hands under. They’re so warm on the cold skin of Mike’s abdomen. Will lets out a breath, almost a sigh. His hands move up Mike’s body slowly, lifting the shirt off of him simply due to his exploration.
The touch feels amazing, making Mike’s head loll back and his eyes flutter shut. He thinks Will must be able to feel his heart beating out of his chest.
“I like being able to touch you,” Will says dreamily.
Mike exhales, the sound caught somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "I like being touched by you."
He tilts Will’s chin up – he needs to see his eyes, needs his mouth. He takes his face in both hands and kisses him slow and deep, Will’s hands pressing flat against Mike’s bare chest under the shirt. They break apart for only a second as Will finishes the job, the fabric catching briefly against Mike’s face, and the instant it clears, he’s on Will again.
“Mmh– let me look,” Will says, pulling away mid-kiss.
“You’ve seen me shirtless before.”
“I know. Just…never been allowed to enjoy the view.”
It makes Mike feel hot all over to be seen so deliberately, like he’s something worth seeing. He’s no David, not even close, but the way Will is looking at him…
Will’s thumbs begin to toy with the waistband of Mike’s sweats, but shyness takes over and Mike catches his hands with his own.
“My turn.”
He slides his hands down Will’s sides, then lifts the shirt, slowly. When it’s gone, they both exhale slightly shaky breaths. Mike's hands brush over Will’s ribs, trace the line down the middle of his torso, rest on his waist – how had he never noticed? Will is so...beautiful.
Their foreheads meet and Will grips Mike’s arms just above the elbows, like he needs something solid to hold onto. They stay that way as the room completely fills with steam, making it even harder to breathe. Mike feels a little unsteady.
“We should–” Will tries, he sounds dizzy too, “we should get in.”
“Mmh–” Mike can barely form words, he’s hot and breathless, he can feel his pulse everywhere.
When Mike doesn't let go, Will turns his head to the side and takes a deep breath.
He huffs out a laugh, "We need to get away from each other."
This breaks the spell muting Mike, "No."
It's not much, but it's a word – he pulls Will in closer for emphasis.
”Mike, yes.” He laughs again softly, “I seriously need to get out of these boxers, I feel gross.”
The reminder makes Mike suddenly aware of his own lower half – he’s less concerned about the gross feeling and more about how hard he's gotten. With great effort, he steps back from Will with his hands up in surrender.
”Thank you,” Will says with a quick smile, “uh– I’m actually gonna take these off in the shower…”
He steps inside and Mike hears him shuffling, then watches as his sweats and boxers fall into a heavy heap on the bathroom floor.
Mike catches his blurred reflection in the mirror. Nothing about what he’s doing, what he might be about to do, feels recognizable. Except for the familiar voice of the boy just beyond the curtain, coming to him now a little echoey.
“Ok,” Will says.
Mike runs his hands over his face a few times, blows out a quick breath, and drops his own pants to the floor.
He keeps his eyes down as he steps over the side of the tub – he sees Will’s bare feet to the left, follows them up the legs where water is streaming down, flattening the hair there, up to…has he…seen Will’s ass before? Must have. But it’s the first time his brain has seen it and said grab. He clears his throat. Will starts to turn around and Mike’s eyes fly up to his face.
“Hi,” Mike says.
“Hi,” Will echoes, dropping his hands from his hair to his sides.
Holy shit, this is terrifying. Will makes a small movement forward and Mike’s breath catches in his throat.
“Here, stand under the water. It’s nice.” Will steps a little to the side to make room for him.
It really is nice, and soothing to his nerves. He lets the water re-soak his hair, raising his arms to push it back. Will makes a small gasping noise.
“You ok?” Mike looks at him through blurry eyes.
“Yeah, just my back hit the wall and it’s fucking cold.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Mike turns to face him, backing up so he’s behind the shower head now. He fills his hands with the hot water and pours it over Will’s shoulder, letting it slide down his back. “Here. I’ll warm you up.”
“So chivalrous,” Will smiles, stepping toward him out of the spray. He wraps his arms around Mike’s neck.
Mike can’t think of a teasing reply – there’s only static in his brain. The same shhh sound that the water overhead is making. How has he ever looked at Will’s face without feeling this overwhelming need to kiss him? How has he been so fucking blind until tonight?
He wants to kiss Will for the rest of his life, he wants to do everything with Will forever and never be away from him. The words form in his mind, quiet at first, then rise to a scream. He has to say them, he can’t stop it. It’s like a hand is gripping his heart, squeezing, forcing the pressurized words up his throat until they settle in his mouth, waiting to burst out the second he tries to say anything else.
“Are you ok?” Will asks in his gentle, beautiful voice.
Mike tries to breathe, tries to push it down.
“Mike?”
“I love you.”
The words tumble out and hang in the air, clinging to the steam, permeating the small space. Will’s eyes go wide, he breathes a shaky breath, and Mike feels his arms hanging heavier around his neck.
“You do?”
“I love you, Will.” Mike can feel the relief building every time he says it and it’s almost too much. His eyes fill with hot tears, his voice breaks, “I love you.”
Will’s hands rub the back of Mike’s neck and head, the feeling is so soothing that Mike has to close his eyes. Will's voice is a whisper.
“I love you too, Mike.”
And he can’t speak, he can’t even open his eyes, he can only close the small distance between them.
Mike kisses the boy he loves. He kisses Will.
It’s slow and sweet at first, but the relief of the confession does nothing to subdue Mike’s all-consuming need, and soon his hands are all over Will – in his hair, on his jaw, his neck. He tilts Will’s head back so he can kiss everywhere his hands touch.
“Mike,” Will’s voice is already wrecked, he gasps again when Mike pushes him up against the shower wall.
“Mmh– sorr–” but he can’t stop to soothe or apologize because they’ve both noticed something as their bodies press together.
They breathe heavily against each other’s mouths. Will looks up at Mike with pleading eyes, his brows knit together, he looks like he’s about to beg or cry.
“Ca–”, he doesn’t even get a chance to finish the first word before Mike is nodding against his forehead.
“Yes,” he barely gets out.
Will drops his arm and slowly brings his hand between their bodies. Mike’s head falls back at the touch – he lets out a low, stuttering groan.
“Oh my god, Mike.”
Mike moves to look at Will and the shift is just a bit too abrupt, for a moment he feels like he could pass out.
“Wha– ?” He’s fucking dazed, Will’s hand on his achingly hard dick must mean this is a dream. He sees Will is looking down, taking in the sight with equal disbelief.
“You–” he actually looks like he might cry, but the sound is more like a laugh as he breathes out, “You’re fucking huge, what the fuck?”
Mike laughs too, “Is that gonna be a problem?”
He pauses before answering, “We’ll see.”
The way he says the words, their implication, and the determined look in his eyes are nearly enough to send Mike over the edge. Then Will slowly starts moving his hand.
“Jesus, Will.” His eyes go to the ceiling.
Will’s grip is perfect, he twists his hand as he drags it up and back down, keeping a steady pace. Mike can’t control the way he starts moaning. He has to put a hand out to brace himself against the wall in case his knees buckle.
He wants to make Will feel this good, wants to know what sounds he’ll make when he’s touched like this. He moves the hand that’s leaning on the wall to the side of Will’s face and pulls him into another kiss. At the same time, he reaches his free hand between their bodies and finds where Will is pressing against him, hot and hard.
Will moans into his mouth and it makes Mike’s dick twitch.
Mike hums, “There you go. That feels good, huh?”
“Yeah,” Will sighs.
Mike matches Will’s pace at first, but then he feels the urge to take control, to lead again.
“Do you want me to go slower?” He rubs his thumb over Will’s tip, spreading the precum there in small circles.
Will whines and shakes his head erratically. It makes Mike feel drunk.
“Faster?” He firms his grip and waits.
“Yes.” Will says, sounding so desperate, thrusting up into Mike’s hand impatiently.
Mike grabs his hip and holds him down, “Yes what?”
Will looks shocked, but also incredibly turned on. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes.
“Yes. I want you to jerk me off faster, Michael.” He whispers into his ear – it sends shivers down Mike’s neck even though he’s burning and Will’s hand starts moving again, picking up pace.
Mike loves that he didn’t give in right away, but he also won’t let him take control of this. He grabs Will’s wrist to still him and wordlessly shakes his head no.
“Yes what?” He repeats, just as calmly.
Will’s eyes flash with defiance. He reaches up to kiss him, but Mike puts his arm across Will’s chest and holds him against the wall. He shakes his head no again, never releasing his grip from Will’s throbbing dick.
“I hate you.”
Mike smirks, “Doubt it.”
He relishes every micro-expression crossing Will’s face as he clearly tries to figure out how to win. Mike leans down to whisper in his ear.
“Just let me make you feel good, Will.”
Will shudders and Mike knows he’s about to give in. Will’s eyes flick back and forth between Mike’s for another moment before he leans his head back against the shower wall and lets out an exasperated (and probably very turned on) groan.
“Please.”
Mike smiles and trails kisses along his now exposed neck.
“Since you asked so nicely.”
He sucks and bites over the spots he just kissed while starting up a steady rhythm on Will again.
“Mmh,” Will bites his lip, trying and failing to contain the sounds Mike is pulling out of him.
“Let me hear you,” Mike drags down Will’s bottom lip with his thumb, and slides it into his open mouth when Will immediately complies.
They both jerk up into each other’s hands wildly, breathing so hard in the hot steamy air, Mike feels he might choke. Will looks down at them tangled together and the sight makes him whine again.
“Fuck, Mike. Mike, I’m gonna– ahhhh–“ Mike watches with wide, eager eyes as Will comes all over both of them.
Will lets go of Mike for a millisecond, and he thinks he’ll die from the loss of his touch, but then watches as he collects his own cum and spreads it over Mike.
Now he knows he’s gonna die.
Will grabs Mike’s face and brings it to his, resting their foreheads together. He pumps his hand only three more times before Mike feels tension coil in his lower abdomen, and slams his eyes shut so he can ride out the best orgasm of his fucking life.
Not a high bar to clear, but he can’t fathom anything being better than this.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mike mutters, breathless. He’s hunched over with one hand on the shower wall, his legs feel like how he imagines a marathon runner’s might at the finish line.
Will laughs, still catching his breath too. He places a gentle kiss to Mike’s forehead, “Do you need to lie down?”
“Actually, yeah.”
“Ok go ahead,” he says fondly, “I’m just gonna be another minute.”
***
It’s jarring how much more air there is to breathe out in the main room – cool and open, unlike the close humid air of the room he just left. Every intake of breath clears his mind and he takes in the space with new eyes.
All week it’s just been a place he’s visiting. Will’s place. Now his brain starts seeing the potential in every corner as he pulls on fresh boxers and a shirt from his duffel.
He’s getting ahead of himself, he knows that, but he can’t help but look at the bed and wonder which side would be his. He sees space for another desk, for his typewriter. He has less clothes than Will, he'd only need a drawer or two. Plus, they've shared wardrobes for years.
Ok stop – he’s making plans before he even knows what Will wants. People don’t do this, they don’t hook up and then immediately move in together, not even people in love...but Mike has never been very good at being reasonable. Once he wants something, he wants it entirely. And if Will would have him, he’d stay forever.
The idea of leaving for Dustin’s tomorrow morning seems impossible now. Obviously he’ll check with Will first, but he’s already planning excuses so he can stay at least a couple more days before…oh shit.
“How are we gonna hide this at the wedding?” It’s like Will can read his mind.
He’s standing in the bathroom doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hand, drying his hair. The sight is so domestic Mike feels like screaming.
“I was just thinking that.”
He swallows and thinks, We’re fucked.
“You’re fucked,” Will replies to the unspoken thought. It’s always been a little weird how he can do that.
“What? Why me specifically? Aren’t we in this together?”
“Yes,” Will says slowly, wrapping his arms around Mike’s middle and looking up at him. His eyes are mesmerizingly beautiful – it’s a little alarming how much power he has over Mike already. Will could tell him to do just about anything and he wouldn’t think twice.
“I say you specifically because you’re a shit liar.”
“So are you,” Mike complains. “Your eyes get all shifty and you fumble around with your hands.”
“Yeah,” Will says, tilting his head with a proud little smirk, “but with this specific lie, I have years of experience. I’m pretty good at hiding it.”
Mike sighs, he can attest to that truth.
“Well, how do you know I won’t be good at hiding it too?”
“Because from what I can tell, you figured it out about two hours ago and haven’t been able to keep your hands off me since.”
“You didn’t seem to mind it,” Mike flirts and it’s so easy. Too easy – to get turned on by Will, to start kissing him and feeling up his still naked body – and to forget about the very real, very imminent dilemma of hiding this from their friends and family.
“Wait.” Will pulls away, a little dazed. “I’d like to have a conversation with you where I’m not either soaking wet or naked.”
Mike throws his head back dramatically and groans, “Boring.”
He sits down on the edge of the bed.
“Close your eyes.”
“What? I just saw everything five minutes ago.”
“Yeah well, you have a creepy grin like you’re ready for a show,” he grabs a pillow from behind Mike and covers his face with it, “and I don’t want you watching while I bend over to cover my ass. Not sexy.”
Mike lays back, holding the pillow in place, and mumbles through the obstruction, “I beg to differ.”
Less than a minute later, he feels Will climbing on top of him, removing the pillow from Mike’s grasp where he faithfully held it over his own face.
“So you love me, huh?”
Mike gasps for air like he was suffocating, then smiles, “It would appear so.”
Will leans down to kiss him quickly before he rolls off and climbs further up the bed, “C’mere.”
Mike does a wonky back somersault to get to him and feels Will swat his socked feet away before he hears the complaint, “Hey!”
He kisses the top of Will's head, “Sorry.”
"I forgive you," Will pulls him down so his head is in his lap. He slowly runs his fingers through Mike’s curls, separating them as they dry, "So what do you think?"
"About the wedding?"
"Yeah. Do you think we can hide this?"
Mike considers it, “I mean...I don’t see why not. We’re gonna be so busy. And all of our friends will be around. We’ll just act like we usually act.”
“Jonathan told me the room assignments earlier. He put you and me together.”
Mike snorts then looks up at him, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning like an idiot.
Will pushes his face away with his hand, “We’re so fucked.”
“Yeah we’re gonna be,” he says suggestively.
Will runs a hand over his face, leaving it at his mouth. He looks so stressed. Mike sits up and positions himself in front of him, taking Will’s hands in his.
“Would it be so bad if they found out?” Mike asks.
Will’s brow furrows and he studies Mike for a moment before looking down at their hands. He flips one over and starts tracing the lines on his palm.
“I thought it might be…for you. Your parents?”
And Mike suddenly realizes how little he’s actually thought about this. The reality of it. It’s easy when it’s just the two of them – Mike and Will in their own world, just like always. But this is their life, their real life, and it won’t be easy.
He’s seen it with Max and Lucas – how even though it’s the goddamn nineties, there are still people in Hawkins who take issue with their relationship. He saw it tonight in front of that bar. He’s seen the way the world tries to come between people who love each other. The idea of letting them win fills him with rage.
“I don’t care, I don’t give a fuck what they think.”
“Mike,” Will tenderly touches his face, “they’re your family.”
“I don’t care! I don’t care about anyone but you.”
Mike’s surprised by the tightness in his throat, the pressure building in his head. Will’s eyes are soft and glassy as he takes his face in both hands, using his thumbs to brush away the few tears that Mike fails to hold back.
Though his words are determined, they come out shaky. “Will, I love you. I don’t care about anything else.”
Will nods, tears slipping down his face too. “I love you so much, Mike.” His voice breaks around the words. “We’ll figure it out.”
And Mike can’t take it anymore – he reaches for the back of Will’s neck and pulls him into a desperate kiss, like it might save them both.
***
It’s different than the last two times they’ve gotten lost in each other. Before, it was like they were drowning in the intensity of the moment, breaking the surface just to breathe. This feels like being carried along by a current – despite the overwhelm, there’s a quiet peace beneath it all.
Mike barely notices the shift from sitting to lying down – they’re suddenly a tangle of bare legs and ragged breaths. Somewhere in the back of his overheating mind he thinks he should slow down, because he’s pretty sure he knows where this is headed. But he can’t stop touching Will, kissing him, rocking instinctively against him.
“I need you,” Will says brokenly, fingers clutching the back of Mike’s shirt.
The words send a jolt of electricity to the base of Mike’s skull that makes his mouth fall open. He meets Will’s dark eyes and something quiet settles between them.
“Ok,” he pants softly. “Ok– I just…I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Neither do I,” Will says with a soft laugh. “But I know what I want.”
Mike goes still, heat rushing through him at the certainty in Will’s voice. His heart pounds so hard he feels it in his throat.
“Tell me.”
Will hesitates for a second, then glances to the bedside table.
“In the drawer,” he says quietly.
Mike leans away and pulls the drawer open. He freezes for half a second when he sees what’s inside, then pulls out the small bottle of lube and shifts his weight back over Will.
“Thought it was gonna be a Bible,” he says with a nervous huff of laughter. “This is better.”
Will laughs under his breath, then covers his face with both arms and groans. His voice comes out muffled, “Mike, I’m so nervous.”
Mike immediately slips back into the gentle voice he’s used with Will since they were kids, “Hey,” he murmurs, brushing a hand over Will’s arms. “We don’t have to do anything. Ok? We can just…stop.”
Will drops his arms from his face, shaking his head emphatically. “No, I don’t want to stop.”
Mike can’t help the small smile that tugs at his mouth. God, he is so cute.
“Ok, we won’t stop. But we’ll take it slow.”
“Ok,” Will breathes.
“Ok,” Mike says with another small smile, holding up the bottle. “So what do you want me to do with this holy lube?”
Will covers his face again, giggling helplessly. Mike huffs out a laugh, but before he can tease him, Will reaches up and pulls him down by the shoulders. He kisses him, slow and lingering, like he just needs to be closer.
He finally pulls back, leaning up to whisper in Mike’s ear, “I want you to get me ready for you.”
Mike’s brain goes completely blank. His breathing turns heavy and uneven, and all he can manage is a quick nod.
“Ok– uh– boxers. Boxers off,” he stammers.
He scoots himself back and sits up on his knees, giving Will room.
“Help me?”
They fumble a little with the waistband, hands bumping awkwardly before Mike finally gets a better grip. Will lifts his hips so Mike can pull the boxers the rest of the way off and he tosses them somewhere behind him without looking. He’s a little distracted by what’s right in front of him.
Will’s already hard and leaking. His chest rises and falls rapidly, like he might start hyperventilating. Mike feels like he might too.
“You don’t have to–” Will starts.
“No, I– I want to,” he takes a steadying breath. “Will, I really fucking want to. I’m just– trying to calm down so I don’t come in my pants for the second time tonight.”
He breathes out a laugh, “Sorry. I’m just as nervous as you are. I don’t want to hurt you or something.”
“You won’t hurt me.”
“I might though. Isn’t the first time usually…painful?”
“It can be,” Will pulls Mike back down to him, it’s a relief to be close again. “But like you said, we’ll go slow. And I’ll tell you if it hurts.”
Mike nods, a little dazed, and finally looks down at the bottle in his hand like he just remembered it exists.
“Can I stay here?” he asks quietly. “I like being able to see your face. Might help me tell if I’m doing it right.”
Will smiles, “Of course.” He reaches for the bottle in Mike’s hand and flips the cap. “Here.” He squirts a bit of lube onto his palm. Mike looks down at his hand for a second like he’s trying to process the fact that this is actually happening.
“Wait,” he says, glancing back up at Will. “Why do you even have this?”
The second the words leave his mouth he realizes it’s kind of a rude question, and not really his business. Will’s cheeks go a little pink.
“I was curious,” he admits shyly. “I wanted to know how it felt.”
Mike’s brain immediately stops cooperating.
The image that pops into his head is so vivid it makes him feel dizzy – Will alone in this bed, experimenting, figuring things out for himself, what feels good, what makes him…
He swallows hard and drags a hand down his face. His dick gives an embarrassing twitch in his already tented boxers.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing– I just imagined you…just so you know, this is going to be over like– so fast. Sorry in advance.”
"It's ok," Will laughs and it's sweet, "We'll have plenty of time to practice."
Mike's dick twitches again. Fuck.
No more stalling. He looks down at the small puddle of lube in his palm and then back at Will’s face as he slowly lowers his hand.
“Can you– spread your legs for me?”
He looks away from Will’s face for just a moment to make sure he’s in the right spot. It’s an awkward angle, and some of it spills onto the bed, but he knows he’s doing something right when Will’s initial sharp gasp slowly settles into steady, heavy breathing.
At first, he just spreads the lube around, using his middle two fingers to draw slow circles, pressing carefully when he reaches the center but not going further. Will’s breathing starts to break with quiet moans.
“P– put a finger inside me.” Will rocks his hips eagerly against Mike’s hand.
Mike is struck by the intoxicating sense that he has power over Will in this moment. He considers making him say please again, maybe even making him beg, but he knows this isn’t the time. Will’s right, there’s plenty of opportunity for practice later.
He makes sure he can see Will’s eyes as he slowly pushes his middle finger inside, and holy fucking shit.
Will’s mouth is open in a silent moan at first and then it’s not silent at all, “Ohhh god.”
Mike still has room to push in, he’s only to the knuckle.
The pitch of Will’s voice rises the deeper Mike pushes, “Fuck– your fingers are so– much longer than mine.”
“My dick’s even bigger, Will. Are you gonna be able to handle it?” Mike doesn’t know what’s come over him, he doesn’t talk like this, doesn’t even think like this. Will’s driving him insane.
“Shut up and keep going so we can find out.”
Mike’s eyebrows raise in surprise at how much Will’s feisty side comes out during sex. He really wants to fight back – he knows he could do so much to draw this out, really get Will heated. But he’s impatient too. He adds a second finger and watches as Will’s eyes go to the ceiling before fluttering shut. He sighs like the feeling brings him relief.
Mike experiments with angles and speeds and finds a rhythm that Will clearly loves. He’s making those sounds again and Mike doesn’t know how he can possibly last more than a few seconds once he’s…he can’t even think of it, it’s too…
“Mike, please. I need you.”
Mike groans, he’s actually about to come in his fucking boxers again. Those words, his voice. He should cover his mouth, but even that image drives him insane.
Mike slowly pulls his fingers out and Will whines at the loss, then his cloudy eyes catch what Mike is doing and he moans out a breathy yes. Mike drops his boxers and his dick springs against his stomach, he’s so fucking hard.
He doesn’t even register that Will has moved until he feels his hand around the base of his dick and oh fuck his mouth is wrapping around the head, licking the tip.
“Will!”
He pops off and looks up with wide eyes. “Sorry, I just saw it dripping and– wanted to taste.”
He’s a dead man. Mike is not gonna make it.
“Please, I can barely look at you. I’m literally gonna come instantly if you use your mouth or, or look at me with those fucking eyes.”
Will laughs, a mischievous glint in his expression. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you once you build up some stamina.”
Mike groans and pins him down, kissing him hard on the mouth just to shut him up. He reaches for the bottle, not breaking the kiss as he squirts more lube into his hand to spread over his dick. It’s cold and strange at first but he doesn’t care because he’s lining himself up, getting ready to push slowly inside of Will.
Will feels the pressure and gasps, looking up at Mike with eyes that look so needy, and maybe a little scared. He nods to say he’s ready.
He studies Will’s face with every tiny movement he makes to push himself inside. It’s almost unbearable how tight and hot Will is – Mike is grateful for the need to be controlled because he knows if he were to let himself get lost in the sensation…he notices Will’s brow tense and his breath hitch. Mike stops immediately.
“Are you ok?”
“Mmh– yeah. Just stings a little.”
“I can pull out.”
“No.” Will’s hands fly to Mike’s hips, holding him there. “Stay. It’s not bad, I can get used to it. Just– need to breathe.”
Mike lifts a hand and strokes Will’s temple, pushing back the strands of hair that are damp from sweat. Will closes his eyes and breathes through his nose.
“How much more is there?”
Mike looks down and almost snorts but manages a small huff instead, “Uhh– a lot. Like all of it.”
“What?! I thought it was already halfway in!”
“Nope.”
They can’t help laughing, it makes them shake while their bodies are still connected.
“Oh my god, this feels so weird,” Will says, squeezing his eyes shut at the sensation. “Wait, take it out.”
Mike must move a little too fast because Will makes a shocked face like he’s just been punched.
“Sorry,” Mike says.
“It’s ok,” he breathes, “Um– I wanna try being on top. Maybe it’ll be easier if I can control the movement?”
Mike nods, agreeing. He shifts to lay on his back under Will, resting his hands on his waist. “Maybe gravity will help too.”
Will eyes him from above, smirking. “Nerd.”
Mike scoffs, “Yeah well, this nerd is getting laid so…” he trails off because Will is already positioning himself.
The sight is so fucking hot. Will holds up his shirt with one hand, exposing his stomach and part of his chest. The bottom half of him is completely naked, his core muscles tense as he lowers himself over Mike.
It takes all of Mike’s concentration to keep himself from the edge now because there’s nothing else for him to focus on. There’s only Will’s fucking perfect body, his perfect face that’s contorting in a mixture of pain and pleasure, and his perfect voice that’s muttering incoherently as he takes more and more of Mike inside of him.
They both exhale shaky breaths when he bottoms out. Will opens his eyes and it takes him a second to focus, his gaze flutters around to find Mike.
“You ok?” Mike grips the bedsheets – he's trying so hard not to move, not to hurt Will.
“Yeah,” Will sounds dazed, blinking slowly. He leans forward and lifts his hips experimentally, dragging himself off and then pushing back down again.
Mike arches his back, “Ohhh fuck.”
“You ok?” Will asks breathlessly.
Mike nods with his eyes closed, his voice coming out like a whine, “You feel so fucking good, Will.”
Will sighs and starts moving again, rocking back and forth – slow at first, then settling into a rhythm he likes.
Mike can’t speak. He can barely think. His brows knit together tightly as he forces himself to breathe through his nose. He really wants to make this last. But Will feels so good like this, moving against him, that it’s already starting to feel impossible.
“Wanna kiss you,” he hears himself saying.
Will leans down and Mike lifts his head to meet him, catching the kiss halfway. It takes him a second to realize Will’s trembling.
Mike reaches up, hands sliding to his hips. “Hey, hold on,” he says softly.
“Hmm?”
“You’re shaking.” Mike slides one hand up along the back of Will’s neck before cupping the side of his face.
Will lets out a breathy laugh. “I’m ok,” he says, though he’s clearly a little unsteady.
Mike watches him for another second, thumb brushing lightly along his jaw. “No, you need to lay back down.”
Will closes his eyes and leans into the touch of Mike’s hand, nodding as he lets himself relax.
Mike shifts them carefully, guiding Will off with one hand still warm at the back of his neck. They’re both flushed and damp with sweat.
“We should take these off.” Mike tugs his shirt over his head, then helps Will out of his. The air feels cool against his skin, but the warmth of Will still so close makes it easy to forget about everything else.
He eases Will onto his back and settles between his legs.
For a moment Mike just looks at him. Will’s hair is mussed, his face soft and open in a way Mike doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. His eyes are dark and steady on Mike’s, like he’s waiting for him to do something, say something.
Instead, Mike leans down and kisses him.
It’s gentle and unhurried, the slowest kiss they’ve shared yet, like they suddenly have all the time in the world.
When Mike pulls back, he doesn’t go far. Their noses brush, their foreheads almost touching, and he just…looks at him. Everything falls away, like it’s been muted or pushed out of the room entirely.
There’s only Will.
Mike feels suddenly dizzy with it – the realization of just how much he loves him, the quiet understanding that this feeling has probably been shaping his whole life without him ever noticing.
“I love you,” he whispers. It’s not enough, but it’s all he has.
Will’s eyes shine with tears. “I love you, Mike.”
Mike is careful, easing forward and paying close attention to Will’s face. He exhales softly beneath him, his expression loosening with relief instead of tightening with discomfort. Mike watches him for another second, just to be sure.
Then he starts to move again, slow and deliberate at first, letting Will’s breathing and quiet sounds guide him. Their bodies are so sweaty and slip against each other as he moves. After a moment he stops thinking about it so hard – he can’t think, his body seems to take over. He pulls himself out and pushes back in at a steady pace, letting go a little more with each thrust.
Will's breath is hot against Mike's neck, his hands are tangled in his hair.
“Mike– you’re so deep. I–” he arches his back and moans, “feel you– everywhere.”
Mike groans from somewhere unknown, his entire body buzzes, his field of awareness spreading throughout and beyond him. He can’t tell where his body ends and Will’s begins. His vision blurs at the edges, the sound of their voices and the creak of the bed beneath them dulling until he can barely hear them.
“Will–” he tries to warn.
But then he feels Will tightening around him, feels him twitching and spilling hotly into the space between their bodies, hears him crying out raw and loud, and he loses himself completely. He can’t stop the way his body pushes forward, pressing their hip bones together so hard it could bruise. Then he collapses gently against him, his face resting in the crook of Will’s neck.
It takes a while before he can move. Mike rolls carefully onto his back, still catching his breath. The room feels quiet again, the only sound their uneven breathing.
He turns his head to look at Will.
His eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling slowly now, his hair damp with sweat and pushed in every direction. There’s a softness to his face that makes Mike’s chest tighten all over again. Mike reaches over without really thinking, brushing a loose piece of hair away from Will’s forehead. His fingers linger there for a second, tracing lightly along his temple.
Will opens his eyes at the touch. He smiles, still a little dazed.
Mike leans over to press a gentle kiss to his mouth, “That was…”
Will lets out a soft, breathless laugh. “Yeah.”
Mike rolls onto his back again and stares up at the ceiling. He brings a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat settle with every breath. After a moment he pushes himself upright and glances around the room. Will’s towel is crumpled on the floor nearby – he grabs it and gently cleans them up before tossing it aside.
They pull their boxers and shirts back on. Will says he needs water and goes to grab a glass, bringing it back for them to share. After a moment Mike remembers something and leans over the side of the bed, digging into the pocket of his bag.
He pulls out the crumpled pack and tosses it into Will’s lap. “Think we’ve earned it.”
Will laughs and Mike gets up to put on his shoes.
“Wait.”
He looks up to see Will at the window, pushing it open and starting to climb outside.
Mike groans. “You mean I could’ve been sitting out here all week instead of hauling ass up and down two flights?”
Will shrugs, already settling against the railing. “If you insist on killing yourself, I’m gonna force you to do some cardio.”
“Pretty sure we just did that.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
Will rolls his eyes, though he’s smiling. “Oh my god. Come on.”
***
The sky is still dark, but the edge of dawn is starting to creep in. The air is cool and smells clean, everything outside washed fresh from the night’s rain.
Mike taps a cigarette loose and offers it to Will.
“Can we share? I don’t think I want my own.”
“Sure.”
Mike lights it, cupping his hand against the faint breeze. The flame flickers between them, reflected in Will’s dark eyes. Mike inhales to get it started, then passes it over, blowing the smoke sideways from his face.
“Just take a small breath in.”
Will looks up at Mike as he puts the cigarette between his lips, inhales – and immediately starts sputtering and coughing.
“Good, huh?”
Will passes it back, sticking his tongue out. “I hate it.”
Mike laughs and pulls one knee up, then the other, spreading them wide enough that Will can lean back into him. He presses a small kiss to the top of Will’s head, looking out down the corridor of buildings fading into the dark – the road could be endless for all he knows.
For a long time, neither of them says anything. Birds begin to chirp somewhere nearby, and the city hums quietly below them.
In the silence, Mike realizes how different he feels. Like something inside him has finally clicked into place. There’s an ease in his whole body now.
For years it felt like he’d been walking around with a broken bone that hadn’t been set properly, something that could never quite heal. Everyone else seemed able to see their futures, taking confident steps toward whatever lay ahead of them. Mike just felt aimless – moored in the pain of the past, trapped by the dense fog of simply surviving each day.
Now, with Will lying against his chest, everything feels easy – everything feels possible.
“The way I feel about you scares me.”
Will says it quietly, almost to himself.
Mike huffs out a small breath of smoke and glances down at him, the top of Will’s head still tucked beneath his chin.
“That’s funny,” Mike murmurs.
Will tilts his head just enough to look up at him and hums in question.
“I was just thinking,” Mike says slowly, “that how I feel about you brings me peace.”
The sky has lightened to a pale blue-gray that brings the buildings around them into hazy focus. Will’s voice is even quieter when he speaks again.
“I think that’s the part that scares me.”
He pauses.
“It’s just that– I’ve wanted this for so long. And now that it’s actually happening, it’s–”
He shifts and sits up so he can face Mike, taking the cigarette from him. He takes a small drag and exhales, doing much better this time, then stares down at the glow between his fingers.
“It’s like when I’m working on a painting and it’s going perfectly,” he says. “Exactly how I see it in my mind. That’s the moment I start getting scared.”
His eyes meet Mike’s.
“Like I should stop before I mess it up.”
Mike frowns faintly.
“Will…”
“I’m serious,” he says somberly, looking down again. “What if this doesn’t work?”
Mike reaches over and gently takes the cigarette from Will’s fingers before it burns all the way down, stubbing it against the railing.
“It’s worked for almost fifteen years,” he says, leaning down to find Will’s eyes.
Will’s smile is bittersweet. “This is different.”
“Doesn’t feel that different to me,” Mike says softly. “It’s still us. Just– clearer now.”
The first edge of the sun peeks above the horizon, waking the summer morning in soft gold and pink. It warms the edge of Will’s cheek and catches the fine strands of hair at his temple. Mike thinks he could stare at this face for the rest of his life.
There’s that instinctive voice somewhere in the back of his head telling him he should slow down. That they’re nineteen and this is a big thing to say, that maybe he should be careful – but the thought barely lasts a second.
Because the truth is, he’s never felt more sure of anything.
“We’ve already done the hard part,” he says. “We were idiots for like a decade and a half, and we still ended up here. So what’s another fifteen years?”
He pauses.
“Or fifty.”
Will’s eyes widen slightly, and Mike lifts a hand to brush his thumb gently across his cheek.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says simply.
Will exhales slowly, like he’s been holding that breath for years. He leans his forehead against Mike’s chest, and Mike wraps an arm loosely around him, resting his chin on Will’s hair again.
The sun rises over the city as Will yawns, growing heavy in Mike’s arms.
“Let’s get you to sleep.”
***
The city is beginning to wake, sounds from outside layer into a growing din, but up here everything feels still. Will is warm and steady against him, one arm thrown across Mike’s stomach, his breathing slow and even now. Mike rests his cheek against the top of his head and watches the pale morning light move slowly across the ceiling.
He lets his eyes close.
Somewhere between one breath and the next, he falls asleep.