Chapter Text
Chance is a good roommate. A great roommate even. He keeps his side of the dorm clean, is quiet at nights because he knows Mike has morning classes, and he sometimes picks up lunch for the both of them. He’s changed a lot since high school, or maybe he was always this way and was just trying to survive back then.
Mike should understand that. Chance is a decent guy.
He strikes up friendly conversation with Mike, and his attempts are more often than not met with resistance of some kind. Mike knows he’s being an asshole. It seems like Chance genuinely wants to be friends. It only makes sense since–
The point is that Chance is a decent guy. A good guy.
Mike fucking hates him.
He hates his perfect hair, his shiny smile, and his athletic build that Mike could never dream of having. For fuck’s sake he’s never even wanted to have that.
He hates when Chance comes back to their room late with a dopey smile and a bruise on his neck. He hates when he tells Mike not to wait up, because he’s not coming home for the night. He hates the woven yellow bracelet on his wrist.
He hates that he feels the urge to whiten his teeth and hit the gym for the first time in his fucking life.
His pencil snaps in his hand and he curses under his breath. He only brought one to this class. Another pencil appears on top of his notebook and he glances over. Will shoots him a questioning glance but Mike just shakes his head.
Much as he tries not to, Mike can’t help but stare at the green bracelet on Will’s wrist. He fights a frown and focuses adamantly on writing down every word this damn physics professor is saying. He likes physics. He likes getting to share a class with Will. He doesn’t like sharing… other things.
He needs to get a fucking grip.
He slams his notebook closed with more force than necessary when the professor dismisses them. He mumbles something to Will about needing to study. Will says he would love to join but he has a date.
Mike knows this. Because it’s Thursday. And Will is not spending it with Mike.
He has physics on Tuesdays and Thursdays with Will, the only class they have together. And while he has other classes on Tuesday, Mike is free after class on Thursdays, so he usually spends those afternoons with Will.
Usually.
Will says he’ll see him later tonight with a sweet smile. Mike can’t look at him. He nods and tells him to have fun and books it to the library. He doesn’t look behind him.
Whatever. The library is good company on her own.
It’s mostly empty in this wing of the library, which is why Mike likes it. He wasn’t entirely lying when he told Will he needed to study. Being an English major is not fucking easy, and he constantly has writing assignments to work on. He works best alone.
Well– that's not true. He works best with Will. But that isn’t really an option.
He glances up at the clock on the wall: 2:26 PM. He and Will are supposed to get dinner together at 7. They go out twice a month to meet up with Max, who’s going to college downstate. They need to leave by 5:30.
He can’t silence the disgusting, slimy voice in his head that says Will is selfish for having a date on the day they're supposed to meet up with Max. He isn’t actually upset on Max’s behalf, which makes his ears burn red with shame.
Fuck he’s a mess. Will is happy. Will has a boyfriend, he’s happy, and he still wants to be in Mike’s life. This is good! This is what Mike should want. He should want nothing but happiness for his best friend.
Will has been through more than anyone could ever imagine. More than anyone could understand. He deserves simple joy, comfort, peace. Understanding. Mike understands….
He groans and smacks his forehead against the solid wooden table.
**********
“Why are you calling me, I’m literally going to see you in like two hours.” Max’s voice clips through the phone and Mike smiles, despite himself.
“What can I say, I just can’t wait that long to talk to you.” He laughs when Max makes a sound like she’s gagging.
The two of them have an interesting relationship. They constantly keep up the appearance of fighting –they have reputations, okay– but in truth, they’re a lot closer than anyone would assume from the outside looking in.
Max is the only person Mike has come out to, other than Nancy, and she was kinder than Mike knew she could be. She rubbed his shoulders and sat with him in silence while he sobbed. She didn’t question him. Didn’t ask why he would tell her and not Will.
She didn’t push when Mike told her how he would regret ‘missing his chance’ for the rest of his life. She didn’t tell him he was crazy when he said he didn’t know if he’d ever love anyone else. She just pet his hair and said she would be there no matter what.
He never said the words explicitly, but Max is good at hearing what isn’t said.
Her face didn’t crumple with pity when Will told them both excitedly over dinner two months ago, that he was dating someone. She just sipped her drink, congratulated and teased Will with her usual fire and held Mike’s hair back from his face when he threw up in the parking lot.
The line is silent for a while. Mike leans against the wall with the phone caught between his ear and shoulder. He twirls the cord around his finger.
“So is this you confessing that you’re obsessed and can’t stand to be apart from me ooor–”
Mike rolls his eyes. “I just,” He trails off. He isn’t sure why he called to be honest. “I dunno.”
“Start bitching or I’m hanging up.” Mike hears what she means.
“I want to like him so fucking bad Max. He’s so nice and Will is literally crazy about him. He’s crazy about Will, too. He’s smart, and funny, and hot–”
“He’s hot?” Max cuts in, rudely.
“Objectively. That isn’t the point,” he blazes on. “The point is he makes me irrationally angry and I’ve considered smothering him in his sleep on several occasions.”
“If Will’s descriptions are to be believed, then I highly doubt you have the strength to smother him, Wheeler.”
“I know,” Mike whines. “I–” Mike chews his lip, debating if he should even say this.
“Out with it.”
“I got a gym membership.”
There’s a low whistle over the line and Mike’s face curls into something displeased and ugly. “Jesus Christ, Mike, this dude has you seriously messed up.”
“I fucking know.”
“God, it does really fucking suck that he’s your roommate.” He can almost hear Max wince from miles away. “You have to see him all the time.”
“Exactly! And he parades around with his stupid tan skin and wide shoulders and deep voice and argh–”
“Are we talking about Chance or Will right now?” Max asks, genuinely confused.
And he’ll be damned because Max has a point. Will has all of these qualities too, except it’s a billion times better on him because– well….
“Shut up. Will doesn’t parade anything around.” He huffs indignantly. “He’s humble.”
“Humble about his tan skin, wide shoulders –which I find debatable by the way–, and deep voice?”
Mike glances to the side, coiling the cord tighter around his finger. “Yeah. Also how can you debate it, you can’t even fucking see him?”
There's a miffed sigh, distinctly Max. “I’ve felt his shoulders, they’re– I mean they’re good, great probably. Whatever. No one compares to Lucas anyway. Drinks on me tonight. You are drinking. Tell Will he can be DD or you guys can crash in my dorm.”
“Mayfield, I love you.”
“Gross, kill yourself.”
“Careful, I might do it.” Mike smiles when he hears a bright bark of laughter.
“Fuck off. Love you too, see you in a few hours. Don’t be weird.”
“Yeah whatever, don't walk into any walls.” He gets the feeling he’s being flipped off when Max laughs indignantly and ends the call.
He flops back on his bed and it's barely ten seconds before Chance walks in, stupid, blinding grin present and accounted for. Mike uses every ounce of control in his body to send him what he hopes is a friendly smile.
Chance gives him a wave. Will isn’t with him, which is weird. They have to leave soon. Chance seems to catch on to his confusion.
“He went home to change. He’ll be over soon, he told me to tell you he promises he won’t be late this time.” He gestures animatedly while he talks, and Mike hates how charming it is.
He looks down at his hands and picks his cuticles for something to do. “Okay, thanks.”
Chance nods and pulls the chair back from the small desk on his side of the room. “I’ve got a quiz tomorrow, so I’ll probably be up late studying. Just tell me if the light is too much.”
God what is this guy, a fucking saint? Mike’s blood boils. “Mm okay. I might not be home tonight, I’ll probably stay with a friend. So– study away, I guess.” Mike’s voice comes out flat, but it doesn’t seem to phase Chance.
“Perfect.”
True to his word, Will is not late. He gets to Mike’s dorm at exactly 5:30 without a second to spare. But hey, on time is on time. Will is winded when he opens the door to the dorm. His hair is sticking up oddly and his shirt is buttoned off center.
Didn’t he just come from a date? Why did he go home and come back looking less put together?
Mike’s mouth tips up in a smile. He can’t help but think Will looks a bit like Joyce right now. Chance laughs, likely similarly endeared, and suddenly, Mike’s smile is gone.
The nonsmile turns into a frown when Chance walks over and kisses Will’s cheek. He rests a hand on the curve of Will’s waist and Mike feels his stomach twist with nausea. Will looks so happy.
It feels invasive to watch them, but it feels worse to know they do this when Mike isn’t watching. He hates to think that someone sees parts of Will that he never has.
They speak to each other in hushed words that Mike doesn’t care to eavesdrop on. He doubts he’d like what he’d hear. He grabs his bag, already packed for the night, and slips behind the couple.
“I’ll be in the car. Take your time.” He shuts the door, not waiting for an answer.
**********
Mike drives, and WIll picks the music and navigates. That’s how it always is. WIll takes longer to pick a tape today –because they still use tapes– but that’s whatever.
Maybe it’s the nostalgia, but Will doesn’t seem to want to make the switch to CD’s just yet, which is fine by Mike.
Mike drives in silence for a while, content to hear the plastic knock together as Will sorts through his stash in Mike’s car. He’s a bit quieter than usual, and Mike has a suspicion it has something to do with his weirdly abrupt departure earlier, but he can’t find it in himself to feel guilty.
He doesn’t like Chance and Will being all gross and lovey in his face –gross because he's jealous, not because they’re gay. Mike is gay, that would be hypocritical.
And that’s what all of this is. Mike has come far enough in his journey of breaking down his ego to admit jealousy runs rampant through him more often than he’d like.
He’s in love with Will and could treat him so much better than that stupid, charming, caring, handsome jackass. He could. He would. The leather of the steering wheel creaks when he tightens his grip. His ego is not entirely broken down it seems.
Now the air is thick in the car– Will choking down words he isn’t ready to say and Mike fuming about things he has no interest in sharing. They can read each other well, better than anyone probably. Mike feels it, so he knows Will does too.
Will finally decides on a tape. Mike expects The Cure. That’s usually what Will gravitates towards when he’s indecisive.
The Replacements crackles through Mike’s shitty car stereo. Oh god, he chose this for Mike. Mike is such a fucking asshole. He considers banging his head on the steering wheel, but that would put Will in danger, so he doesn’t.
Will stares out the window and Mike pretends he doesn’t feel like he’s fourteen in the back of a pizza van that smells like weed again.
“I’m sorry.” He says after a while.
Will doesn’t look at him. “I told him you were safe, Mike.”
“I know, I know. And I am. You know I am.”
“Of course I do….”
“But he doesn’t.” Mike infers. He sighs loudly when Will nods, still not looking at him.
“There’s not many places for us to– you know.” Will doesn’t specify what he means, but Mike gets it. There aren’t many places for gay people to exist.
There is so much he wants to say: I’m sorry I was a dick. I’m happy for you. I’m happy that you’re happy, because nothing matters more to me than your happiness. I’m happy you found someone who makes you happy even if he’ll never understand all of you. Not like I do. I want to be the one to make you happy.
He says none of this, obviously. Instead he settles for something more neutral. “He’s a good guy. I don’t want him to feel unsafe around me.”
Will huffs. “He doesn’t. But you could be nicer.” He finally, finally turns to look at Mike and Mike’s heart thumps a bit harder in his chest. “You make him nervous.”
Mike whirls around, staring at Will with bewilderment until Will snaps at him to watch the road.
“I– what? Why would he be nervous, he could probably bench press me?”
That draws a small laugh out of Will. “He’s nervous because you’re important to me, Mike. Not because he’s physically intimidated by you.”
“Oh.” Mike’s mouth is suddenly very dry.
“Yeah. Oh. Dumbass….”
Mike is a dumbass. Will says it like it’s so natural. Not the dumbass part, although that seemed annoyingly natural too.
‘You’re important to me.’ Mike knows this. It doesn’t really need to be said, but Will said it. He says it, like… regularly.
He says it without a waver in his voice. No trace of hesitation. Maybe he would’ve, when he was still fifteen and terrified of Mike leaving him. This being Mike’s fault, of course.
Now, though? They’re twenty and twenty-one, and Mike has spent years trying to prove to Will that he isn’t going anywhere. Somewhere along the way, Will started believing him.
His stomach flutters with pride. Will trusted him enough to, well, trust him again. Despite everything, he willingly handed over his heart to Mike and asked him quietly not to break it again. Will’s heart just might be his most prized possession, even if he has to share it with someone else.
It was his first.
“You’re important to me too.” He feels the need to say. “I know I–” he grits his teeth and tilts his head from side to side, chewing on his words. Will is patient. “I’m not used to someone knowing a side of you that I don’t, and selfishly, it irks me sometimes. I’m sorry.”
Maybe it’s a bit too honest. Maybe it puts Will in an uncomfortable position, but Mike thinks he can handle it. Will always deserves the truth, even if Mike can’t tell him the whole truth.
“It’s my job to look out for you.” He adds, when Will stays silent. It’s one of his silences that he keeps guarded. It’s a silence he’s intentionally trying to keep Mike from understanding. And Mike, fucking unfortunately, does not understand it. “Will….”
“He cares about me, you know.” It’s defensive.
Mike is taken aback. “I know?”
“Do you?” Will faces Mike fully now, turned in his seat awkwardly.
“I never said he didn’t. I know he cares for you. I would’ve killed him by now otherwise.” He feels like he needs to tread carefully. They’ve stepped onto the edge of a razor blade and Mike isn’t sure what awaits him if he slips off.
Will groans, frustrated, and Mike frowns in confusion as he watches the road. “That’s what I’m talking about!” He sounds exasperated.
“I’m sorry… I’m not following.”
“You always go all–” Will tosses his arms and sighs heavily. “You don’t have to be my guard dog, Mike.”
Mike clenches his jaw, uncomfortable with the accuracy of the comparison. He is like a dog wherever Will is involved. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like? I’m not yours. You don’t have to protect me like we’re–” He cuts himself off abruptly and turns to face the window.
Mike’s heart drops to his stomach. They’ve been driving on a long stretch of rural road, and they’re pretty much the only car out. He pulls off to the side of the road. He cannot drive and have this conversation.
Will turns to him in alarm. “W–what are you doing?”
Mike puts the car into park, but doesn’t tear his gaze away from the windshield. He falls off the edge of the blade.
“Say it.”
Will splutters. “Say what?”
Mike looks at Will and sees fear in his eyes. Mike doesn’t back down, raising an eyebrow. Will isn’t scared of him, he’s scared of what he almost said, and they both know it.
“Like we’re what, Will? Say it. Why do I make your boyfriend so nervous?”
“You’re being a jerk.” He looks down and picks at a loose thread on his sweater.
Mike is being a jerk, but he’s just tired. And Will is here, in Mike’s car, in the middle of nowhere, protected by the growing darkness of the evening, and goddamnit Mike wants to hear him say it.
Against his better judgement, and at the risk of real anger from Will, Mike grabs his chin and lifts his head. Will’s eyes are misty, and it’s almost enough to make him pause. Almost.
He drops his voice, making sure it’s soft. Nonthreatening. “I’m not going to stop protecting you, Will. Not until you can say why I should.”
“Mike–” His voice is watery. “Please.”
Mike lets go of him and pinches the bridge of his nose. What is he doing? He sits back in his seat, knocking his head against the headrest. Will lets out a shuddering breath next to him and wraps his arms around himself defensively.
Fuck.
**********
Max picks up on the weird energy right away. Will excuses himself to the bathroom as quickly as is socially acceptable after greeting their friend. Max raises an eyebrow.
“How have you already fucked up, Wheeler?”
“I–” He buries his head in his hands, and when the waiter comes over to the booth they’re crammed in, Max explains that they need a bit longer.
“Mike,” Her voice is deceptively soft. “What did you do?”
He should be offended that she’s assuming Mike did something, but– he did do something, so it isn’t an unfounded assumption.
“We were arguing, kind of, and he said something about me being overprotective.”
“And then?”
Mike sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair. “He–he said he wasn’t mine and implied that I need to back off because we’re not together, but he wouldn’t say it explicitly."
Max frowns in confusion. “Okay. I may be wrong, but I feel like I am missing a crucial piece of information. I love you guys, but this isn’t the first time you’ve danced around this, in the form of an argument or otherwise. It’s never made Will bolt before.”
“That’s the thing. We have been dancing around it. And I,” he clears his throat. “I was fed up, so I pulled over and told him to say it out loud. Multiple times,” He adds with a wince. “He… it was. Well–”
“Jesus Christ, Mike.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. But you didn’t see how he fucking looked at me Max.”
Max, pointedly, blinks her milky eyes at him, and he hopes she can sense him rolling his own.
“You know what I mean.”
“Will doesn’t deserve that, Mike. Especially not from you.” The words are as weighted as they are true.
“I… Max I can’t–”
“You have to. Mike, you have to. He’s happy. For the love of God, do not try and take that from him.”
Mike turns his face away in shame and ignores the angry tears forming.
“You know who he’ll choose if you back him into a corner. Do not make him do that.”
“It fucking hurts. I could give him everything,” His voice cracks embarrassingly, and Mike is glad Will has decided to take ten years in the bathroom.
Max reaches across the table expectantly, and Mike takes her hand, trying to disappear into the booth as he does so.
“He waited so long for you. So, so long. You can’t blame him for trying with someone else. And you’ll never forgive yourself if you take it from him. Because he’ll go to you, whether it’s good for him or not.”
Mike squeezes Max’s hand, and she squeezes back. She’s right, god, he knows she’s right. Will is goodness incarnate, and Mike is a creature of the shadows, lucky to be eclipsed by his light. He’s hurting him –the boy who deserves nothing but kindness.
“He will always choose you if you ask him to. And,” Mike looks up when she hesitates. “Maybe he still will, even if you don’t.” She levels him with a stern look as if she can feel him perk up. “But you have to let him choose. You lost the right to make this choice years ago.”
He nods in understanding like a scolded child. “I know.”
“For someone who claims to know so much, you spend an awful lot of time acting like an idiot.”
Max drops his hand, giving him a firm pat on the arm before leaning back, herself.
Will walks over from the bathroom, mumbling an apology. He surprises both Max and Mike when he chooses to squeeze into the space next Max.
She scoots into the corner, giving Will enough room and shoots Mike a quick, surprised look before grilling Will about his current illustration project.
Mike seethes. Will always sits by him. Always. Then, he takes a breath and gets the fuck over it. This is what he gets for being the world’s biggest dick.
Dinner with Max is always fun, and she somehow dissipates tension between Mike and Will effortlessly. The three of them are giggling like kids by the time the checks arrive.
“Wanna head to the bar across the street?” Max asks expectantly.
Will looks at Max. “We have to drive home, though?”
Max turns very slowly to face Mike, who shrinks in on himself. Will follows her gaze and squints his eyes.
“Mike.” Max says. “Did you forget to ask our wonderful friend if he was on board for tonight’s plan?” Her smile is sickly sweet and Mike grimaces.
“What plan?”
“I forgot.”
Max scoffs. “Mike was supposed to ask you if you would be willing to drive the two of you home or crash at my dorm tonight so I can buy you drinks. It was a very special, limited time offer.” This is targeted at Mike. “And I had hoped Michael would appreciate that.”
Will rolls his eyes with a resigned sigh. “That’s fine. I could use a drink, and I have a great deal of respect for your generosity, Max.”
“This is why you’re my favorite, Byers.” Max says with a wide grin.
Mike twists his face up in disapproval but his offense melts away when Will laughs. Jesus, yeah, he definitely also needs a drink ASAP.
“Whatever, let’s go,” he grumbles.
Max is between Will and Mike, holding onto both of their elbows as they make the short walk to the bar. It’s a bit cold out, but Mike misses the chill when they step inside and they’re hit with a wave of heat.
Mike beelines for the bar, practically dragging Max and Will behind him. He’s careful to avoid obstacles, but Max still smacks his arm when they reach the counter.
“Yeah, sure, just tug the blind girl through a crowd, jackass.”
“I was careful,” he counters.
“You’re never careful.” Will levels him with a glare, but there’s no heat to it. Max nods solemnly.
Mike pretends that Will thinking he’s careless doesn’t bother him, rolls his eyes, and flags down a bartender.
He’s on his third Gin and Tonic, spurred on by a very tipsy Max. He’s pleasantly buzzed, enjoying how everything around him has softened at the edges.
He gets quiet when he’s drunk, perfectly content to sit back and observe whatever’s going on around him. He doesn’t feel the need to talk much, a fact Max has repeatedly said is a blessing.
Will, though? Will gets loud. He’s talkative and excitable. There’s a youthful spark in his eyes as he gestures wildly, retelling some story to an obviously endeared Max.
Mike watches him, stupidly enamored. He sips his drink slowly until it's just ice knocking into his teeth. He thinks about getting a fourth, but considers Max’s wallet and decides against it. With the speed at which his eyes are growing heavy, he realizes drinking more would be a terrible idea regardless.
He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around, if a bit delayed. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing his curls out of his eyes and blinks sleepily at the girl standing behind him, presumably the one who tapped him.
She’s pretty, from an objective standpoint, with long mousy brown hair and blue eyes. Did she need something? Oh, he should just ask that.
“Can I help you?” He tries to keep his tone light, but that last drink is hitting him a bit harder than he thought it would and he quickly realizes controlling his tone is about to be an impossibility.
She tucks some hair behind her ear and gives him a sweet smile. Oh… Mike braces himself.
“Hi, my name is Meghan.” She gestures to the barstool next to him and he lazily tracks the movement. She rests a hand playfully on his forearm. Why is she touching him? “Mind if I sit?”
He tries to hide his blatant distaste. It’s not like it’s her fault. He opens his mouth to gently express that he’s not interested when a heavy hand lands on the nape of his neck.
“He’s just about to leave actually.” Will’s voice is clipped. Tight around the edges in a way it usually isn’t.
Mike tips his head back and sees Will’s jaw clench. He’s smiling at the pretty girl, but radiating an aura that is anything but friendly.
She raises an eyebrow and gives the two of them a onceover. Her eyes widen with something that looks dangerously close to understanding and Will’s hand tightens on his neck.
“I see,” She smiles, and it’s less forced than Will’s. “You two have a good night, then.” And with that, she’s gone.
They both sigh in relief. Mike looks over his shoulder and frowns. Will at least has the sense of mind to look sheepish. That was reckless. Sure, they’re not in Hawkins anymore, but even a more progressive city is not without its risks. Not to mention Mike still hasn’t told Will he’s gay.
He thinks about his actions in the car through that lens and considers getting another drink, if only to drink himself to death.
Mike can hardly even process the fact that Will basically staked his claim on him in a random bar. Can barely register that Will postured over some poor girl. For Mike.
His vision is definitely swimming now. Fuck, he overestimated his tolerance. Will’s hand rests between his shoulder blades, solid and warm, and Mike leans into it heavily.
“Fuck–” He groans, letting his eyes flutter closed. “M’drunk.” He informs Will, like a warning of some kind.
“I know.” Will murmurs, rubbing small circles on his back and glancing around the bar.
Ah. That must be why Will came over. He usually has a sense for when Mike’s a bit too far gone. Mike is so in love with him. Will is looking at him curiously now and Mike realizes he’s just been staring at him, probably with stupid cartoon hearts in his eyes.
He shakes his head and clears his throat. “Max?”
“Calling a cab. You ready?”
Mike nods, then frowns deeply. “My car?” He tilts his head back to rest against Will’s stomach and pouts up at him.
Will’s face does something really complicated that Mike is too out of it to dissect. His hand moves back up to the nape of Mike’s neck and gently plays with the curls there, seemingly without thought. He must be on his way to drunk too.
Mike hums and blinks slowly. Everything feels syrupy and warm. It’s nice.
“Max said it’s okay for you to be parked where you are overnight. Don’t worry.” Will giggles when he sees Mike’s confused expression, because what are they even talking about right now? “Nevermind. Let’s just get you home, yeah?”
The ride to Max’s dorm is blessedly short, and before he knows it, he's sitting on the floor between Max’s bed and her roommate’s. He is informed that said roommate is spending the night with her boyfriend, so Max will take her bed.
“Fuck.” She mutters.
“Hm?” Mike asks from the floor, listening to Will brush his teeth in the bathroom, because of course Max scored a dorm with its own bathroom.
“You’re both fucking tall.” She explains, as if Mike is supposed to understand. “Let me see if I can stay with my friend.”
Mike frowns in confusion and then looks over to Max’s full size bed. “Oh.” In all honesty, they can both reasonably fit on a full, it’ll just be… cozy.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of this,” She admits honestly.
She’s clearly not sober, and even drunk himself, Mike knows he doesn’t want her walking anywhere this late, especially not since she’s fucking blind.
“Yeah, no. I’ll sleep on the floor, you’ve got a rug anit’s comfortable.” He shrugs.
“Absolutely not, Mike. You’ll break your back.”
“Who’s breaking Mike’s back?” Will walks out of the bathroom, pauses, and walks right back into the bathroom as Max bursts into surprised laughter. “Yeah, that was a poor choice of words.” He grumbles.
Mike’s face is hot, and it's not just the flush he gets from alcohol. Something about the way Will asked the question, even if it was entirely innocent, with a furrowed brow and skeptical tilt of his head…. He thinks about the hand on his neck, protective, possessive even, if Mike really lets himself indulge. Which he does, because why not.
His stomach swoops, low and warm, and it's so stupid because really, Will didn’t even do anything. But he’s just– he’s just so fucking hot.
He flops onto his back on the floor and covers his burning face with his hands.
Will bravely enters Max’s room again and sits next to Mike on the floor, with his back against Max’s bed.
Mike has already, at some point he doesn’t remember, changed into his spare clothes. He tilts his head and looks at Will.
“There’s a shirt.”
“Huh?” Will asks quietly as he cards a hand through Mike’s hair.
“Inmy bag,” he explains. Will doesn’t seem to follow. “I brought an extra shirt. You can wear it, so you don’t have to sleep in that.”
“Oh–that’s. Thanks.”
Max scoffs from where she’s laid down on her roommate’s bed. Mike looks up at her with a scowl.
“What?” He asks defensively.
“Will wouldn’t need your shirt if you had remembered to tell him that you guys were sleeping over.”
Mike’s ears turn red, because that’s technically true.
Will laughs and stands up, walking over to where Mike’s bag is in the corner of the room. “It’s okay. He can’t help it.”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
Will looks over his shoulder at him with a raised brow. “You’re forgetful when something distracts you.” He slips his shirt over his head and Mike’s throat clicks on his next swallow.
Will is… well it’s not like he’s super built or anything, but he has filled out. Soft muscle lining his back and shoulders. Mike rolls over to lay on his stomach, so he’s not awkwardly watching him upside down.
“Something must’ve had you distracted.” Will smiles at him in a way that’s just a little too knowing to be innocent.
He takes his time digging through Mike’s bag, and Mike shamelessly watches his shoulders flex with each movement. He can see every shift of muscle under Will’s skin and he has to take a deep breath and look away when Will finds what he’s looking for and turns around. His bare chest is not something Mike’s hammered brain can deal with right now.
Max makes a gagging sound from across the room, and both boys snap their heads over to look at her.
“I don't know what just happened, but I know that I’m upset to have been in the same room.” When they both share a look in silence she adds, “I’m blind not stupid.”
Mike can’t help but laugh and Will apologizes shyly as he slips Mike’s shirt on fully, now. And wow that’s Mike’s shirt.
Mike tilts his head back and appreciates how nice Will looks from this angle. He relishes in the way he’s smiling down at him. Will holds out his hand, and Mike awkwardly moves his limbs around so he can be pulled to his feet. Will grabs his forearms to stabilize him when he wobbles.
Mike had forgotten another crucial thing to note about Will when he’s drunk. He gains an aura of confidence likely only rivalled by The Steve Harrington. Will is always confident these days, but liquor makes him bold. And that, so far, has been very difficult for Mike.
He nearly groans in frustration when Will gently drags his thumbs over Mike’s wrists and his stomach twists. Stop it.
His eyes are so dark like this. They’re still a beautiful blend of green and hazel, but there’s a shadow there. Like a haze or something. Mike doesn’t know, he’s still pretty wasted.
“Stop being gay and go to sleep.” Max calls from where she’s now tucked under the covers.
Mike’s eyes widen, but Will doesn’t even flinch.
“Says you.” Will answers, tossing an eyeroll in Max’s direction. “Don’t think I didn’t catch how much you’ve been talking about my sister.”
Max gasps and immediately defends herself, but Will isn't having it. They bicker in a way that’s unusual for the two of them, but still clearly lighthearted. Mike should join in on the teasing. He should rub it in her face a little. He should maybe even protest that she called him gay, just for appearances sake. He should.
But his eyes are glued to where Will’s fingers are still pressed to the pulse points of Mike’s wrists, gentle and steady. Like him. Can Will feel how fast his heart is beating? He has to be able to, right?
“The light,” he whispers.
Will looks back towards him and ducks his head down to meet Mike’s line of sight. “Hm?”
“We sh–should turn the light off.” Why the fuck is he stuttering?
Will opens his mouth and nods in understanding. “Okay, get in bed. I’ll get the light.”
Mike shifts back and forth, uncharacteristically shy. “Uh–”
“We’re sharing, Mike. It’s late. Get in the damn bed.” Will challenges with a raised eyebrow.
Mike nods wordlessly. He’s the boss, it seems. Mike gets in the damn bed.
He turns away from the door and shuffles as close to the wall as possible. He calls a quiet goodnight to Max, which she returns sleepily, and then the lights click off.
Mike hears Will walk over and feels the bed dip behind him. Embarrassingly, Mike is having to put real effort into measuring his breathing. He feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest.
It’s not a big deal, he tells himself. They used to do this a lot. Especially in their first year of college, before they were split up. Will was dealing with persistent vivid nightmares at the time, and eventually, they just pushed their beds together on one side of the room and slept together to avoid the hassle of ending up in one tiny bed regardless.
It feels like eons ago. Mike wonders if they’ll fold into each other like muscle memory, or if he’s in for a terrible night of awkward shifting to avoid touching Will.
‘Let him choose.’ Max’s words ring in his head. He takes a deep breath and lies very still, his back to Will.
There’s no movement behind him for a long time. Mike is fairly confident that Will isn’t lying down. He looks over his shoulder, slightly confused. It’s too dark for him to see anything in great detail. From what he can tell, Will has one knee propped up on the bed, and his head is hanging low, looking at where his hands are flat on the mattress.
‘Let him choose.’
Mike slowly rolls over, catching Will’s attention.
‘Let him choose.’
He holds out his hand. An offering. An apology. An olive branch.
‘Let him choose.’
Will sighs and takes his hand, crawling fully into bed. They lay facing one another on their sides, with a couple of inches separating them. They aren’t touching anywhere, save for their hands intertwined between them.
Mike can’t see Will’s face, but he can feel his eyes on him. Will squeezes his hand, once. Mike squeezes back. Will squeezes his hand three times in quick succession and tears burn Mike’s eyes, sudden and stinging. He takes in a shaky breath, that he’s sure Will can hear and squeezes back– three times.
Will breathes out heavily and mutters something under his breath that sounds like ‘goddamnit’.
‘Let him choose.’
Will moves forward, letting go of Mike’s hand only to reach around and pull him close by the small of his back. Mike goes willingly, slotting against Will’s body in a familiar way. Like puzzle pieces sliding into place.
Will tucks Mike’s head under his chin and softly combs through his messy curls. Mike hums a pleased little sound against Will’s neck. He draws nonsense shapes on Will’s back with his arm draped heavily over his waist.
He thinks he feels a kiss pressed to his hair, but maybe it’s wishful thinking. He presses a kiss of his own to Will’s throat and pretends he doesn’t feel him shiver. He pushes himself closer, if that’s even possible and Will’s body relaxes fully.
Mike feels it the second it happens, and he can't help but smile. His chest swells with pride, or relief, or something.
Sleep tugs at him, and although he wishes he could stay awake for longer, to relish in this moment he might not get again, Will’s slow even breaths are lulling him into sleep.
Everything is warm and safe and Will Will Will.
Will’s arms tighten around him nearly imperceptibly, and Mike falls asleep wondering if maybe he doesn’t always need to protect Will. Maybe, sometimes –together or not– Will wants to take care of him.