Chapter Text
Small talk, he drives, coffee at midnight.
The light reflects the chain on your neck.
He says, "Look up" and your shoulders brush.
No proof, one touch, but you felt enough
Will knew he was being dramatic. Or at least, that's what he kept thinking to himself.
Honestly, he did look pretty dramatic. Crammed into a small payphone booth, hands shaking as he held a tight grip on the phone cord that he couldn't manage to put down. The rain that practically appeared out of nowhere had drenched him just enough for his hair to be dripping to the pavement below, his brown jacket being just damp enough to cause discomfort.
He looked like he just got dumped, honestly, during the big climactic moment in some really terrible romantic comedy that he would have secretly loved. All he needed now was I Wanna Know What Love Is belting in the background to really complete the scene. He looked and felt pathetic, really.
The worst part, though, is that he wished he was just dumped.
Will was utterly humiliated. He contemplated dropping out of school with no notice and driving back home to Hawkins so he never had to show his face around school again. He could just live out of his mother's house forever, that would be fine.
He felt stupid to think it was a date. Stupid to be hopeful. Stupid to sit there in silence, mouth agape as the boy opposite to him ridiculed him for "living in sin" or whatever he called it.
Instead, Will just ran. He had excused himself, stuttering out a few incoherent words as he swiftly exited the apartment. He bolted out of there so fast he barely caught the muttered "Don't be such a pussy" as the door slammed behind him. Skipping multiple steps just to get down the staircase as fast as he could, he slipped into the cold, suffocating night air - and he ran. For about two blocks, Will sprinted just to put as much distance as he could between himself and the building.
The late autumn chill, cooled by the darkness of the evening, pressed into his chest and his legs felt implausibly slow as he rounded the corner onto a finally familiar street and spotted the pay phone just a few feet down.
His fingers trembled as he slammed the buttons for their house phone, foot bounced nervously as he recited the situation to Mike over the phone.
The guilt hit him almost immediately after the call hung up. The tremors lingered, pairing with the never-ending racing thoughts. The air was too cold, the gentle hum of traffic hammering in his ears, the lights of cars cruising past making his vision blur. The tears welling in his eyes didn't help his vision either. Every car that passed made his knees weak, his shoulders tighten inward, the brief second of anxiety washing over him like a wave.
It felt like hours, days even, but really it must have been not even five minutes before he heard the steady rumble behind him, and instantly the waves of anxiety quelled themselves and were replaced by overwhelming relief.
Will knew it was Mike instinctively. He always did.
That relief quickly faded into shame, and guilt again, his chest tightened and his vision going unfocused again. He kept his head down, focused intently on his shoelaces.
The truck door slammed. Will flinched despite himself.
"Hey," Mike's voice floated into earshot. Not sharp, not annoyed. "Hey, you're okay. I've got you, you're okay."
Will looked up and immediately wished he hadn't. Mike's hair was a mess, jacket not done up, eyes filled with exhaustion but even more so, worry. Will caught Mike's quick glance over his figure once, then twice, scanning to make sure he was at least physically safe.
"I..." Will's voice cracked and he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. For making you come out here-"
"Hey," Mike said, stopping Will's spiral before it even began. "Don't. I told you to call me if you needed anything, yeah?"
The reassurance landed heavy in Will's chest like an anchor, and that's when he broke.
Silent tears started to spill over, Will sniffling as he tried to swipe them away before Mike could see. At that, Mike grabbed his arm - gentle, never aggressive, and led him over to the truck that Will realized was still running, never even shut off.
Mike opened the passenger door and ushered him in. "Come on, it's cold."
Will nodded blankly, following without question. His legs were stiff, arms heavy, mind still filled to the brim with humiliation and shame. Mike shut the door behind him and Will curled into the seat, eyes fixated on the buildings lining the street - so Mike couldn't see any leftover tears threatening to bubble over.
Mike clamored back into the driver seat but stared ahead, unmoving. Just the gentle, but very loud, thrum of the truck and the sound of Will's shuddering breaths as he regained composure. After a few minutes of silence, Mike cleared his throat.
"You don't have to tell me what happened," He spoke gently. "But you can, y'know, if you want to."
Will's heart thundered just a little faster for a moment, warmed at how caring Mike was with him - always was. He knew Mike was dying to know, he hated not knowing and being out of the loop in any way, and Will appreciated the opportunity to avoid it.
"Can we maybe, just..." Will muttered, fidgeting with the frays on his jacket sleeves. "Just drive first? Away from here."
Mike considered his request before nodding and tugging his seatbelt on. He didn't understand the fear Will had right now, and Will couldn't have expected him to. He had this debilitating paranoia that the worst would happen, every irrational scenario running through his thoughts. But the issue is, deep in the back of his mind, Will knew it wasn't all that impossible - that something could happen to him, all because he trusted the wrong person with his secret.
The two drove in silence for a few minutes, the truck filled with just the sounds of the engine rattling around and Will's leg nervously bouncing under him. In his peripheral he could see Mike glance over a few times, an unreadable expression on his face before he'd turn back to the road ahead of them. Will wasn't sure where exactly Mike was heading, hell, he wasn't sure if Mike even knew either. But Mike accelerating just a touch over the speed limit to get him out of there faster had him thanking whatever angel Mike was sent down by.
The fourth glance over, which Mike held just a few seconds longer, is what cracked Will.
"It wasn't a date." He started, voice barely above a whisper. Mike whipped his head around to stare at Will, staring, but Will locked his eyes on the yellow lines in the road ahead, as if avoiding Mike's eyes made it easier to say. He shuddered to himself before continuing. "I thought it was. Or- Or maybe I hoped?"
Mike glanced back at the road occasionally, finally nearing the more suburban areas and getting out of the bustle of the downtown core. Mike's grip on the wheel tightened, the streetlights flickered as they sped past, the quiet hum of the truck filling the silence between them. He couldn't keep his eyes off Will. He couldn't even go five seconds without looking over at him, his stomach twisting in a way he couldn't explain.
"He... I guess he didn't know I'm gay. Hadn't figured it out yet, which, I guess is a good thing. He didn't get the hint 'til I... God," Will let out a small laugh, but it was forced. "This is embarrassing."
"No," Mike said softly, shaking his head. "It's not embarrassing. Keep going."
"I... I just- put my hand on his arm, Mike. That was it. I guess that's when it clicked for him, all of it, and he was so... disgusted. Disgusted by me."
Mike had to force himself to swallow down the surge of anger that was rising. He tried to focus on the road, doing his best not to break the wheel in half. He tried to keep his face neutral, tried to be normal. Inside, a thread in his chest was unraveling quickly.
He thought about how Will was speaking so carefully, choosing each word to soften the blow as they landed. The idea itself made Mike's stomach twist into knots. He caught on as Will tried to shrug it off.
"Sorry I made it such a big deal, I just... was caught off guard, you know?" Will shrugged again, a soft laugh on his lips. Trying to downplay it, as if feeling anything about it would make it worse.
Not a big deal.
Mike wanted to scream.
"Will, it is a big deal." Mike started, careful and slowly. "That... must have hurt, pretty bad, and it's okay that it did."
Will sighed before continuing.
"He kept telling me all the usual, y'know, I'm going against God or whatever, going to hell, same old. I've heard it before, I can live with it. It was just..."
Mike kept one hand on the wheel, his other hand drifted down out of Will's eyesight and squeezed into a fist, nails biting into the skin of his palm. He hoped the sting would keep him grounded, keep him from interrupting. Or turning the car around and walking into that guy's apartment himself.
"The fact that he was so disgusted at the idea of being like me…. Of being a fag."
That's it. That's what broke Mike.
The words hit Mike fast and hard. He knew how much Will hated when people said that, how much it reminded Will of his father’s cruel words when he was just a child. Mike hated it too, hated how small it made Will feel.
The indignation made its way into his veins, soaked deep into his bones. It was a quiet and eerie anger, one that lingered beneath the surface. Waiting for its chance to appear, but he couldn't - not yet. He needed to stay collected for Will's sake.
Still, he could feel his heart pounding, each beat echoed in his ears and began to sound eerily like his fist connected with someone's face.
Will glanced at him, hesitant as he bit back the rest of his story - like he was checking for damage, worried of bothering Mike with the details of his night gone awry.
Anger twisted deep in Mike's chest. He swallowed hard, tried to force the outrage to settle but it wouldn't. Instead it grew, and settled on a new target: no longer just the guy who hurt Will, but towards everything. At the world itself, for being this way - for forcing Will into situations where his very right to exist, to love, was questioned.
It was unfair and cruel. Will deserved better from the world.
He pressed his foot down on the gas a little harder, accelerating through a yellow light like that would relieve all his frustration.
'So what if Will is gay?' The thought flashed through his mind like a lightning strike. 'That doesn't make him any less perfect. He's still Will.'
And in that moment, it wasn't just the rage deep in his chest. Something else was there, something he couldn't name, but it was starting to seep out of him. He tried to push it down, to bury it like he always did, but it wouldn't stay buried.
Another feeling, unwanted, uninvited, clawed its way into his mind. It was soft at first, like a whisper at the back of his head. But it grew louder, pulling him under until he couldn't breathe. It wasn't just about protecting Will anymore... there was something else.
His brain tried to reject it. Not now, not here.
He didn't have time for this, for his fucked up mind to spin what he insisted were just intrusive thoughts. No time to examine why the sight of Will so distraught stirred something in him, something more than just friendship. No time to figure out why he felt so strongly about this.
It was just his best friend. That's all it was. That's why he was so angry, so ready to tear the world apart for what it had done to him.
Mike took a sharp breath, trying to force his mind to slow down. He focused on the road ahead, loosened his grip on the wheel and let his foot off the gas a little - he hadn't even realized how much he was speeding. He could feel his heart pounding too fast, and the need to act on that anger -- the urge to do something, anything, to make it right - was almost overwhelming. He forced down his mental spiral, now was not the time for his own pity party about his feelings.
Will needed him, needed someone to be steady and grounding right now, and Mike was damn sure he could do that for Will. He couldn't make the world any less cruel but he could at least be strong for his best friend through it all.
He glanced over at Will again, a hand reaching out to the boy's knee. He placed it down and gave a firm, reassuring squeeze. Will popped his head up to look at Mike, who gave him a small smile.
After a few beats, Mike spoke, his voice low and steady.
"You know, what he said doesn't mean shit, Will." Mike said. "You're not any less just because some guy can't handle it. You're still-" He cut himself off, swallowing as he tried to find the right words. "You're still you. Nothing wrong with that. Just 'cause he can't handle it, that's on him."
There was a beat of silence, a hitch of Will's breath that he hoped Mike didn't catch. The tension eased off his shoulders, not much but just enough. He flashed a small smile at Mike.
He let his gaze drift back to the road, the blur of passing streetlights giving him something solid to focus on. He didn't let himself linger on Mike's words, didn't think too far into the hand on his knee that buzzed with electricity from the contact. It was still a lot, exhaustion growing on him from the whirlwind of events so far, but he knew he could let his guard down just a little, in his own safety net of Mike's presence.
Mike reluctantly pulled his hand from Will's knee, the absence of contact immediate, he reached forward and popped open the glove box. Inside were some cassette tapes, amongst a pile of other junk. He rifled through the pile of tapes before he pulled one out, looking at the title and smiling in satisfaction. Something he knew Will liked. He slid it into the player and the faint, quiet notes filled the cab. Will's eyes lifted toward him for a moment - an almost shy smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. Mike returned his gaze to the road, pretending it was just music and he hadn't known how much comfort the soft sounds playing in the background would soothe Will.
Will had started to relax a little now, knees untucking from being pressed against the door and stretching out in the space in front of him. His crossed arms loosened their grip, and he started to rest his head back against the seat - one so worn and familiar that it curved to his body like it was shaped just for him.
Will let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he recognized where Mike was taking them.
The truck pulled up to the little coffee shop just on the edge of downtown, nestled on the outskirts of the bustling campus area. Open 24 hours, it was the go-to for late night party-goers and early morning studiers alike. And Mike and Will. It was one of their favourite places to go in the area, their getaway when the apartment was too small or the pick-me-up when their mornings dragged on too long.
A cross between a dingy diner and a trendy new cafe: complete with black and white checkered tile floors, mismatched earth-tone couches tucked into the corner, tall plants, wooden tables and red padded stools at the counter. Old fashioned in some ways, trying to reinvent itself in other ways - just like them.
Mike pulled into a spot on the side of the road, just a few steps from the shop. He patted his leg to check for his wallet before turning the truck off and looking over to Will.
"I'm gonna grab us the usual, I'll be right back, okay?" Mike said softly, hand reaching out to squeeze Will's forearm with a small smile.
"Oh- okay, yeah, yeah that'd be great. Thanks, Mike." Will returned the smile, reassuring Mike.
Mike paused, hand still lingering on Will's arm. Letting the silence stretch just long enough to fill the space with something unspoken, he noticed the way Will's shoulders still slumped slightly, the way his hands rested loosely in his lap. Mike wanted to say more, wanted to fix it, wanted to erase the sting of the night entirely, but he just waited patiently instead. His thumb brushed against Will's skin almost unconsciously. He swallowed hard, searching for the right words. He knew Will didn't need some grand speech - not now, not yet. Just something small to ground him, to hold him over.
"It's okay to be pissed, you know." Mike started, his hand still rested on Will's arm. "You don't have to hide from me. And you don't have to just live with it, either."
Will sighed at that, nodding his head for a moment. "I know, it's just... hard sometimes, I guess." The truck was silent for a few moments, before Will spoke again, voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes I just wish it wasn't like this... Like I wasn't like this."
Mike swallowed hard, nodding like he understood. He understood more than Will realized, more than he even realized. He didn't know what to say, he wished he could make the world stop hurting Will and everyone like him. He would take it away in a heartbeat if he could.
Mike's jaw clenched, his words coming out more sharper than he meant, twisting his body to face Will.
"Look. That guy? He's an idiot, Will. No one should ever make you feel like that." His voice softened, but there was a quiet intensity behind it "It's him, not you. Okay? He's the one who's messed up."
He didn't look at Will, but he knew the words would sink in. He wasn't great with feelings - and he knew that. But he wasn't going to let Will think he'd done something wrong. That was the last thing Will needed right now.
He paused, trying to catch Will's gaze for a moment before continuing. "You don't need people like that. Seriously, if they don't accept you then they don't matter."
Mike paused, patient as he waited for Will's response. The boy gave him a small albeit genuine smile, and Mike was satisfied.
He gave Will a quick, reassuring look before he opened the truck door. "Be right back, okay?' he muttered, his voice lighter than before. Waited for Will to nod in response before closing the door behind him. The cool air hit him as he stepped out, and he was careful to keep his pace steady as if he wasn't rushing to get back to Will. He ordered their usuals with the same worker who began to know their names, before heading back outside to the truck.
He was back in no time, coffee cups in hand. Well, one coffee - black, as he would say is the "superior" way to drink it. The other cup was Will's tea, just the way he liked it. It's not that Will was against coffee, he'd indulge occasionally. But on days like this one he favoured tea because it didn't give him the shaky, heart racing feeling he avoided as much as he could.
Mike slid into the driver's seat, the smell of coffee filling the truck as he not so gracefully balanced the two coffees in one hand before passing one of the cups to Will.
"Careful," He murmured instinctively. "It's hot."
Will took the cup with a grateful smile, a red tint creeping up the back of his neck as the cup instantly warmed his chilled hands. "Oh, yeah. Thanks. ...Even though you're the one who usually spills it anyway."
Mike let out a small chuckle, giving Will a sidelong look as he placed his coffee down - a little more careful than usual, as if to prove a point. He quickly buckled himself before flipping the engine back to life. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." Will flashed a teasing smirk as he sipped on his drink that was, admittedly, a little too hot. He leaned back into his seat, the tension rolling off his shoulders more and more as they began driving past the familiar buildings. The truck hummed beneath the sound of the cassette tape still playing softly, the comfortable silence warming the ache in Will's chest.
He wasn't okay still, far from it. His leg still bounced nervously beneath him and his hands would tremble if they weren't grounded with the cup he held onto.
His frustration still sat deep behind his ribs, the humiliation clung to his skin like wet clothing. He fought off his mind aimlessly wandering to the failed experiment of moving on. Fought off the nagging voice in the back of his head that, see, maybe this is where you're supposed to be: with Mike.
It was worth even more to him that Mike didn't push, didn't ask more questions or force conversation. Just drove, slower this time, indulging in the quiet road spanning empty for miles ahead of them. Like he knew Will needed the comfortable silence. Will watched the world pass by without really paying attention to it, letting the blurred lights ease his thoughts even more as his sipped mindlessly on his drink.
Every now and again he looked over to Mike. He looked focused, calm - but Will knew his tells by now. Noticed the way his jaw clicked subtly as he clenched it shut, the way his finger tapped against the wheel as it always did when he was holding pent up aggression back.
His eyes made their way over the rest of Mike, scanning over the way his long fingers gripped the wheel. One knee propped up higher than the other, the small rip in his jeans showing just a tease of pale skin underneath. The way his dark curls fell across his forehead, messy and unkempt like he quite literally rushed out of their front door without so much as a thought to his hair.
He had known this version and every other one of Mike so well, had memorized every detail as they shifted over the years.
Will looked away, jaw tightening as he fixed his attention back on the passing street lights. He'd learned by now that noticing was inevitable - he would always notice Mike. Every detail. It was involuntary no matter how much he fought against it. He knew, though, lingering was the real mistake.
Still, moments like tonight made it harder to pretend he didn't want more. Mike showing up when Will needed him most, showing he cared and was really trying. It made his heart jump in a way that felt dangerously close to hope. And hope was the thing Will knew better than to trust, not now, not after tonight.
So he didn't linger on it. Shut it down in an all too familiar way. He figured he could survive the wanting, the yearning for his best friend. Push it down, drown it out.
And he could, he had been doing so well recently.
Now, however, he had begun fumbling it - because Mike's hand had travelled back to resting on his goddamn knee again.
Will's breath completely stilled. He swallowed hard, pushing down the rising anxiety that tried to climb its way out of his chest. Faced his head back to the window to cover the heat creeping up his neck again, gripping his hand against the knee Mike wasn't holding to mask the tremble in his fingers.
Will was starting to lose grip on his tightly wound control of the whole situation.
Thankfully, right as he thought he might truly combust from the contact on his leg, whatever higher power that's out there must have heard Will's spiral, as Mike moved his hand off and back to the wheel. He took a quick turn, and glancing out the window Will's eyes lit up as he began to finally recognize where Mike was driving.
The road had narrowed, streetlights spaced until they were few and far in between. Mike slowed as they turned onto a gravel pull-off. A few metres later and the truck rolled to a soft stop, the rocks crunching under the tires as they came to a stop along the edge of the overlook. The headlights gleamed across an aged wooden fence, no taller than knee height. Beyond that, just barely visible among the shadows of the night was a quiet lake - one that Mike and Will were fairly familiar with. They had spent a few late nights at this lake, overlooking the waves rolling across the shore. It reminded them of back home, of the lake that they shared many of their childhood memories with, and this one brought them an almost bittersweet nostalgia.
The engine idled for a second before Mike shut it off, plunging them into a quiet that felt thicker than before despite the music that kept playing low in the background. No one said anything, the night stilled around the truck like it was holding its breath. Will shifted in his seat, hyperaware of the tension that hung heavy over them. It always was there, of course, but it was harder to ignore now that he had allowed his mind to linger too long on the tugging in his chest from Mike's touch.
A chill ran up his spine as he considered how easy it would be to say or do something neither of them could take back.
Mike was the first to move. He grabbed his coffee from the cupholder and grinned back at Will. "C'mon it's nicer back there." He said gently, climbing out of his seat - as if Will wasn't already incredibly familiar with how nice the back of Mike's truck was, especially when he was in the back with Mike-
The cold bit at Will's skin as he slipped out of the truck with his own drink. He tugged his jacket closer to his sides, following Mike around to the bed of the truck.
Mike hopped up first, setting his drink carefully on the edge before reaching back down for Will without even thinking about it. Will took his hand, steadying himself as he climbed up after him, their fingers lingering a second longer than necessary before separating.
As Will set his cup next to the other one, Mike ducked back into the cab. He shoved his long arms awkwardly through the back window, rummaging around the backseat before reemerging with the old blanket. The green plaid throw had lived in his car for years, soft and worn thin from too many late nights. Will often reached for it on the late nights as the air would grow too cold around them.
Mike shook the ratty blanket out and spread it across the truck bed, tucking it around them once Will sat down. It was muscle memory, the way he adjusted it as he had so many times before. Once he was satisfied with how they were pressed shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, he wordlessly passed Will his cup. The warmth spread through Will's hands as he settled closer to Mike, indulging himself just a little.
"You doing okay?" Mike asked softly, in that voice that was reserved just for Will. "We can stay as long as you want. Or- y'know, we can go, if you want."
Something about the choice, the patience, made Will's heart ache.
"I'm okay, Mike. Really." Will shrugged, keeping his eyes cast downward at the already-cooling drink. He wasn't, not fully, not yet - but Mike didn't need to know that. Always trying to fix Will's problems, but there was nothing he could do for this one.
Mike hummed quietly at that, not quite convinced. He shifted beside Will, one knee bumping his.
"You don't have to be." He said after a second, his gaze following the waves that rolled across the water. "I mean- you don't have to pretend with me. It's okay if you're not okay. Or if you're not sure what you're feeling right now."
Will wasn't sure what he was feeling, that much was very true. He simultaneously wanted to run away from whatever was happening there and also lean further into it.
"I'm… I don't know." Will sighed, taking another sip of his drink before placing it carefully next to himself. "Like, yeah, I'm not happy about what happened tonight. It sucks, I feel humiliated. But it is what it is. It's my fault for assuming…"
"No." Mike blurted out, effectively cutting Will off. "No, it's not your fault. It's his, that asshole led you on."
"Mike, seriously, based on his reaction I don't think he was trying to lead me anywhere."
"It doesn't matter if it was intentional!" Mike's hands flailed as he spoke louder. Not shouting, never at Will. Just insistent and passionate as he always was. "He still did, and that's a shitty thing to do! He doesn't deserve to just get away with it."
Will chuckled softly. He knew the other boy wanted to beat the shit out of this guy, and he was thankful his best friend was here with him rather than getting locked up for attacking someone.
Mike then reached out, slow enough that Will could've pulled away if he wanted to. His hand landed at Will's wrist first, thumb brushing lightly over the pulse there like he was grounding himself just as much as Will.
"You deserve better than that. You deserve to find someone, someone who loves you."" He swallowed, eyes searching Will's with an unreadable expression that disappeared as quickly as it came.
He didn't want someone, Will wanted to scream, he wanted Mike.
But, he couldn't have that. So instead he just settled on a small smile. "Maybe someday."
"Definitely someday."
"Besides," Will's tone shifted immediately, desperately trying to flip the subject. "I need to focus on school. Or, that's what mom and Hop keep saying."
"Yeah, tell me about it." Mike sighs dramatically, settling easily into the conversation shift as he leaned further back. "I'd take that any day over my mom bugging me, though. She keeps asking when I'm gonna start seeing someone again."
"Oh, yeah?" Will braced for his next question, unprepared to hear the response but curiosity getting the best of him. "Well, are you?"
"Not you too." Mike scoffed, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he turned his eyes back to the water. "But, no, no. Not yet. I'm not sure I'm ready for that."
Will felt the drop in his stomach at that, despite knowing he didn't have a chance either way. Still, selfishly, he was glad to know Mike was still his, for now, even if it was just in his dreams.
"That makes sense."
"Does it? 'Cause it doesn't to me." Something shifted in Mike's tone, and Will could literally hear the bricks being built back up, signaling Mike closing off. He had been trying to work on his emotions and communication, but old habits die hard.
"It doesn't need to. Not yet." Will shrugged, finally catching Mike's gaze as he looked back. "Someone very wise once told me it's okay not to be okay."
"Oh, so you're calling me wise?" Mike raised his eyebrows with a small laugh. Sure, Mike still pivoted far away from the original conversation, but at least Will was making him smile.
"I thought I was supposed to be the wise one here."
Mike let out a loud, genuine laugh, throwing his head back. "Fair point, Will the Wise."
The conversation settled into a comfortable quiet, not heavy, the silence wrapping around them in a sort of comforting way. They let it drag on for a long time, just enjoying each other's presence.
After some time, Mike shifted first, reaching behind them to tug the blanket higher over Will's shoulders like it was muscle memory. The movement tipped them closer together than before, the space between them shrinking without either of them acknowledging it. Will barely had time to register it before Mike's knee pressed flush against his, solid and warm through the thin denim.
Will told himself it didn't mean anything. That was the rule, he could indulge himself in the affection of his best friend if he didn't let it mean more than it needed to. Mike touched him like this all the time. Leaned in, crowded his space, forgot where his body ended and Will's began - nothing about this was new. But it was different that night. More charged, weighed down the air around them.
He didn't know if it was the events from earlier that heightened his emotional state, or if something had actually shifted. He focused on staying still - not leaning back, not pulling away - afraid that Mike would notice how close they were he would pull away again. Still, a parted of him hoped this was all intentional.
Mike, as fidgety as always, shifted again, just a little. Every movement dragged against Will's knee, a quiet reminder that Mike was there, solid and real and close enough to destroy him irreparably if Will let himself hope too much.
Will hated how his brain filled in meaning where there probably wasn't any. How part of him wanted to believe that tonight was different, that Mike could feel it too. That was the dangerous thought. Hope always crept in like that, soft and reasonable, pretending it wasn't a trap waiting to snap its jaws shut.
Will swallowed and kept his eyes on the lake. He couldn't cave, not tonight.
He could survive a little closeness as long as he didn't reach for it. As long as he didn't let himself want it too much. Because the second he did, the second Mike noticed and pulled back - and he would, eventually, he always did - it would be over.
"Hey, you with me?"
Mike's voice broke Will out of his thoughts. He was staring at Will, who panicked; 'God how long had he been looking at me? Did he notice?'
"Oh, yeah- yeah, sorry, just thinking." Wow. Smooth.
"About earlier? Do you wanna talk about it?"
"No," Will shook his head, inhaling sharply after answering a little too quick. "No, I'd honestly rather stop thinking about it. All of it."
Mike nodded, silent as his eyes flickered between Will's. His brows scrunched together, something he did every time he was deep in thought, before perking up. Nudging Will with his shoulder, he shifted himself forward before leaning back on his elbows. Legs stretched out in front of him, Mike flashed a wide smile at the boy that was now above him.
"Come on." Mike gave no further explanation, not that he needed it - Will would follow him without question, always. He stretched out similar to Mike, quirking a brow in question at him.
"What are we doing?" Will tried to disguise the tremor in his voice as confusion, which seemingly worked as Mike rolled his eyes in reply, as if the answer was obvious. "Not thinking."
He scooted closer to Will, elbows brushing against each other. Will's breath hitched in his throat, his mind running a thousand miles a minute as his body froze.
If the contact earlier felt like it was on fire, he was sure whatever he was feeling now must equate to the goddamn sun. He could barely swallow past the lump quickly forming in his throat. He could still survive this. He could wade through the desperate yearning back to the safe shore of meaning nothing if it just didn't get any worse than this.
It, of course, did. It always did.
Mike raised his hand to Will's chin, the touch barely grazing the skin. So gentle and delicate, but the touch felt like a thousand volts straight into Will's heart. The spark zipped down his spine, lighting his entire body ablaze.
Cupping the boy's jaw between his pointer finger and thumb, Mike ever so softly lifted his gaze up to the sky above them. "Look up."
Will could feel the intensity of Mike's eyes locked onto him, and he didn't dare look back, afraid of what he might see. Of what he might not be able to come back from. He let out a slow, shaky breath that he tried and definitely failed to conceal.
His touch was lingering way, way longer than Will could handle.
After an unbearable amount of time, Mike's hand finally retreated back to his side. They laid side by side, the blanket bunching between them, shoulders and arms pressed firmly against each other. The night opened up above them - the sky was clearer out there, the stars glimmering and endless, blinking intermittently across the vast darkness.
Will's focus locked in on them desperately. On the distance, the way they were laid out across the sky, the way some slowly faded more and more into visibility. He focused on anything that wasn't Mike.
Mike pointed upward, arm crossing out above them.
"See that one? That's not actually a star. It's a planet. Crazy, right? I used to think it was stupid, but I read in this book I had…" He began to explain the concept of this planet that Will wasn't really focusing on enough to understand. His hand waved in the air above them still as he rambled, a little clumsy and stumbling over his words as he always did, especially when he was excited about whatever it was he was speaking about.
Will listened earnestly, even when the words started to blur. Mike's voice was low and close, grounding and dangerous all at once. It felt different like this - lying down, not looking at each other - it became a little more manageable. The world narrowed to the shared space and shared breath.
Will was suddenly too aware of how easy it would be to turn his head, how little distance there really was between them.
Mike lowered his arm from above them, shifting weight onto that elbow as he stretched out the other arm trapped between the two of them. Will's heart immediately sunk at the loss of contact.
"And that one," He nodded up at what Will considered to be a squiggly line. "Is Cassiopeia."
"Wow." Will chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension radiating off them with some light teasing. "That's a big word for you."
'You're okay,' Will thought. 'See, you can do this.'
"Shut up." Mike huffed out a laugh, eyes still locked on the sky. "That one was my favourite growing up, 'cause it's kinda shaped like an M. Or, depending how you look at it, it's a W."
An M and a W.
'Never mind, Will, you're fucked.'
Will inhaled sharply. His gaze shifted from the constellations in the sky to the freckles scattered across Mike's face. The only constellation he had ever memorized, the most beautiful ones.
Mike continued his rambling on about how he could only ever find the spoon of the Big Dipper and never the handle. His words faded out of focus to Will as he felt Mike shift. Mindlessly, Mike stretched the arm that was between them and laid it across Will's chest. In an awkward, upward angle it reached towards Will's collarbone.
Will choked on a breath he didn't know he was holding.
He could practically feel his heart hammering in his throat, as Mike's hand drifted to the chain around Will's neck.
Will froze instantly.
Mike didn't even pause his rambling, didn't even notice the reaction next to him as his fingers started fiddling with the silver necklace. He hooked his thumb around it, tugging it so softly. It twisted it to wrap around his index finger, rolling the metal between his nails inattentively.
Will truly thought he was going to die right then and there.
This was it, this was too much.
Will's thoughts caved instantly, every careful rule he built for himself collapsing under the weight of it. Mike's skin just barely there against the junction of his throat. It felt intimate in a way Will couldn't rationalize away, not like the knees touching, not like the shoulder brushing. This was something you did when you were close, when you were allowed.
Mike laughed softly at something he just said, his hand casually resting against Will, still playing with the chain like it belonged to him. Like Will wasn't unraveling under his touch.
Hope crept in anyway, it always did - treacherous and quiet, whispering that maybe tonight was different. That maybe Mike felt this too, even if he didn't know what it meant.
Will suddenly couldn't keep his eyes off the boy across from him.
Even when he told himself to, Will couldn't break his gaze away. The restraint he'd been clinging to all night thinned to something fragile and fraying, and suddenly every part of him was tuned too far to Mike. The way his voice dipped at the end of sentences, the way his fingers still worried the chain without meaning to, the way he kept shifting closer, almost subconsciously.
Mike noticed eventually, because of course, he always did.
His voice trailed off mid-thought, words dissolving into an unfinished stutter as he turned his head. His hand stopped moving on the chain, not pulling away but just resting.
For a long second, he just stared, brows knitting together like he was trying to piece something together.
"You keep doing that." Mike said quietly.
Will's heart slammed. "Doing what?"
A heavy silence hung above them for a beat too many. "You- ...You can't look at me like that."
Will chewed his lower lip. A surge of confidence, or maybe it was curiosity, rushed through him.
"Like what, Mike?"
"Like…" He shook his head, brows furrowing but never breaking eye contact as he searched Will's eyes desperately for something. Then his voice dropped low, barely above a whisper. "You're just- you're making this hard, Will. Really hard."
"I'm not doing anything." Will's breath caught, shallow and uneven. He didn't move. He couldn't. Everything in him was screaming do something, while the smarter part of him was desperately trying to hold the line, reminding him how badly this could go wrong.
"You don't need to." Mike breathed, lips parted.
Mike was so close, too close. Will had spent the night wondering if maybe he felt it too, felt the tension echoing off the walls of the truck and drowning them in the quiet night. But everything about this, the solid press of his shoulder, the faint hitch in his breathing, confirmed for Will he wasn't alone and wasn't just imagining it all.
Will's heart slammed against his ribs, loud enough he was sure Mike could hear it. Mike's jaw tightened as he dragged his gaze back up to Will's eyes like it took effort.
For a second, it looked like he might say something, anything, but the words didn't come. Mike's lips tremored as he tried to find the words. His hand stayed on the chain, fingers curling a tight grip around the silver string like he didn't trust himself to let go.
"Jesus…" Was all Mike finally managed to get out, barely audible.
The word wasn't spoken like a prayer, but a plea; desperate, aching.
He leaned in a fraction more, close enough now that Will's entire world tunnel visioned directly towards Mike's lips.
"Mike…" Will whispered.
"Will." Mike breathed. That was spoken like a prayer.
Will felt as if he was going to suffocate. The almost, the waiting, the unbearable stretch of it. If Mike closed the distance now, Will didn't think he'd stop him. He didn't think he could.
But he didn't. Of course he didn't.
Instead, the silence stretched on for long, too long. Mike was still holding back. Still hovering. Still choosing not to cross the line, and Will could feel how badly it was costing him.
Mike drew back suddenly, fast enough to send a jolt through Will, breath uneven. "I– I can't." He whispered to himself, barely audible, soft and final in a way that didn't match the way he was looking at Will.
The words landed hard. Not sharp enough to cut cleanly, not clear enough to understand. But it hurt, jagged and messy and too sudden to make sense.
Mike's hand slipped away from Will's chain, like it had burned him. He shifted back, putting space between them like it was something he needed to breathe.
Will stayed frozen, staring up at the stars he couldn't see anymore. His heart was still racing, his body still leaning forward, words replaying over and over.
I can't. Meaningless and heavy. Not don't want to. Not stop. Just… can't.
An awful feeling crept up his throat, shame quick and familiar and twisting his gut with nausea. Of course. He'd misread it. He always did, but twice in one night? Had to be a new world record.
Mike hadn't wanted that - hadn't meant any of it - and Will had been stupid enough to let himself hope otherwise. The closeness rewrote itself in his mind, shrinking into something embarrassing and unrequited, just as it always had been, the way it was supposed to be.
The space between them stayed empty, charged with everything Will was suddenly pretending he hadn't felt. The stars kept burning overhead, indifferent and distant, and Will stayed frozen. If he didn't move, maybe the moment wouldn't catch up to him.
"Hey," Mike said after a moment, voice too casual, too forced. A distant look in his eyes, Will could see the walls climbing higher than even before. "We should probably head back… It's late, y'know?"
Will nodded before he could think about it. "Yeah," he said, just as quickly. "Yeah, okay."
They didn't look at each other as they moved. Mike climbed out of the truck bed first, not even bothering to fold the blanket as he bunched it up. Hands fumbling, movements sharp and aggressive. Will watched for a second too long, then forced himself to look away.
The front seat was too cold when Will slid into it, the door slamming shut behind him too loud. He stared straight ahead as Mike walked around the truck, the sound of his steps loud in the quiet. Will pressed his head against the headrest, breathing carefully.
His entire world had shattered in the bed of that very truck, and now Will had the pleasure of driving another 15 minutes with the very person that just slipped out of his hands.
Mike got in a moment later, keys clinking, movements stiff. He didn't look at Will. The engine flipped to life, that stupid cassette playing again. Quiet, taunting almost. Will immediately flipped it back to the regular radio station.
"I-" Mike stuttered, filling the quiet cab with a noise too loud and too harsh. "I just- …You okay?"
"Yep." The word slipped out too fast before Will could stop it. He didn't have the energy to be angry at the audacity of the question. He was just tired, he wanted to go home and climb into his bed and erase the night.
He turned his face back toward the window before Mike could look at him again, watching the treeline sway in the cool breeze. The truck rolled forward, the lake disappearing behind them, and Will pressed his hand into his thigh hard enough to ground himself.
He didn't cry. He didn't break.
He just sat there, holding everything in. Knowing with a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t allow himself to slip up again, to get that close. Not when the fall felt like this.