Archive of Our Own ^beta

His mind drifts away from the darkness of his sleep as he slowly feels a pain in his back, crawling to his awake brain. He doesn’t open his eyes yet, hopeful he’ll instantly go back to sleep—as if that had ever happened before. He doesn’t move either, in that same stupid hope that seems to stick to him, a hope that only makes him deceived, disappointed, bitter. He tries to think of the sweet things that warm his heart, but somehow, they all have a tint of sadness, nostalgia or sorrow in them.

Will knows he is living in the past a little, especially after the time that had been taken away from him where, then, he could do nothing else but observe and certify that all of his friends—even though they cared—didn’t stop growing up. Even his body reminded Will of that—universe is funny that way—he always was, and still is, the little Will Byers that everyone has tagged as fragile, someone that needed protection.

Maybe he did.

But that protection came too late, he had still disappeared. So it didn’t really matter anymore. He didn’t need it. He was fine on his own.

Almost.

Universe is funny that way too; Why would he feel the need to be protected by the only person that was causing him the most pain?

Will doesn’t move but freezes when he hears a sound, even though he is quickly reassured when he thinks back of the previous night and where he was.

He takes a deep breath in and out, inhaling the smell of comfort the place has always brought. His hands are between his bent legs under the blanket and now they tingle while the pain in his back intensifies.

He listens carefully, as if in a conversation, as Mike moves around the room.

Will has stopped wondering how he would recognize Mike’s steps and habits immediately a while ago. He already has too much on his mind.

He wonders what Mike is doing here though, he is sure he went upstairs after they’d said goodnight.

Will stays immobile, heat rising on his cheeks, feeling like he is intruding, not being honest, as he listens carefully for any sound, picturing where Mike is going, what Mike is doing.

His eyes move under his eyelids, they follow Mike’s steps around the basement. The remote, removed from the table and placed next to the TV. The glass, followed by a silence after a light ‘cling’ is heard. The chairs, getting under the table.

He knows Mike doesn’t want him here, he had insisted, telling Will that his sleeping bag was still up in his room, that he would gladly leave the bed to Will to sleep on the floor next to him or to take the couch in the basement. But Will had insisted too and he had the couch in the basement while Mike had his bed.

It was better this way.

Will never really had a good relationship with sleep. Even before anything happened. He sure knew that sleeping in Mike’s room—whether he was in it or not—after everything that had happened would only make things worse.

On the couch, here in the basement, it was easier to pretend he was that little kid again. The one that had watched his favorite horror movies—which were just that, movies, none of it was real—with his best friends while eating too much popcorn and chocolate bars. It was easier to bring back those feelings of comfort and well being when the smell of the place hadn’t changed a bit. Even Mike’s steps hadn’t changed.

Will jumps a little when Mike drops something on the floor—on purpose?—and only relaxes when he is sure Mike isn’t looking at him or waiting for him to move.

He isn’t sure why he doesn’t want Mike to know that he is awake. Maybe because he insisted so vividly on taking the couch for himself, making sure Will had a comfortable sleep—even though Mike didn’t know he’s never had one in... years, if not ever.

Mike didn’t need to know that.

Mike didn’t need to know how uncomfortable he would have felt in his bedroom, let alone in his bed. Maybe the overpresence of Mike’s smell would have lulled him to sleep. Will prefers to think that it probably would have caused him a headache, keeping him awake  because he is weak and he would be sleeping in the bed of the boy he loves the most.

Universe is funny that way.

The things he should feel comfortable about were making him nervous whenever Mike was involved. Every step taken under his eyes, every word said for him to hear. Because Mike wouldn’t leave his eyes.

Physically, Will didn’t mind. It was sweet, warm and needed; Mike’s brief touches a vivid proof that he was, indeed, there, in the real world, surrounded by people. Mike’s hand on his shoulder—often followed by a shared look with Mike’s eyes full of concern for him—, more than reassuring, was a needed comfort when darkness invades his mind. Which is approximately every time Mike isn’t around. The proximity of their bodies, shoulder against shoulder—Mike always slightly in front of him—a needed protection, the only protection Will would ever accept.

Physically, he didn’t mind. He is happy Mike doesn’t mind either. Or so he thinks. Or so he hopes. Maybe Mike did mind but wouldn’t say anything. Because it’s Mike. And Mike doesn’t talk that much. Not as much as Will does.

It’s emotionally and spiritually that he did mind, his brain covered in fog whenever his heart would beat too fast, whenever words would hurt, whenever eyes would meet his, searching for a truth he wasn’t ready to admit just yet—or ever.

Because Mike was obsessed with the truth. And his newly overpresence in Will’s life after everything was a little overwhelming—if not anxious. As much as he needs Mike’s presence—that he had come to terms with—it is just as painful to lie to him, an omitted truth really if Will was lying to himself.

Because friends don’t lie.

If Mike wasn’t a part of the “lie”, wasn’t at the very core of it then, maybe, just maybe, Will would have told him. Because Mike usually understands. He always did before anyway. But here it was Mike and only Mike, and they’ve never talked about love before, apart from movies and games. They’ve never talked about love, how it makes you feel (crazy), how it makes you think (it doesn’t), how love in all its form is the thing that makes the world go round. Will loved. He loved his mom, his brother, his sister, his friends. And then there was Mike.

Will only has various episodes of his childhood, his mind being selective over these, not always keeping the best ones. The fact remains that in every one of those said memories, there isn’t one where he feels a normal amount of love for Mike. It’s not like a brother, it’s not like a hero—even though it could be close to that—, it’s not like a friend, not even a best friend as he’d learn a few years later. And as beautiful as this kind of love is, it is just as painful; to have Mike so close but too afraid to say anything, too anxious to reach out, for it would give him away. Because whenever Mike is near, Will suddenly becomes hyper aware of his body, he isn’t just the ghost of himself anymore, he is physically here. Every move he makes echoes in his mind and whenever he’d reach out, his brain would go through it over and over again and his hand would withdraw from Mike’s touch.

Just like now. Mike is near and Will’s body feels enormous on the couch that could have had three of him on it just a few years ago. Now he had to bend his knees and have his head high on the armchair.

Mike isn’t the most discreet person, he’s always been a little clumsy like that. Will doesn’t mind. He was more than happy to give help whenever Mike needed it for. Whether it was getting up from a fall as he’d tripped on his untied shoelaces (he was the worst for that) or help him until early in the morning on a school day to finish a project that had been done but ended up on the ground when he’d try to get it out of the basement. It made Will laugh and roll his eyes at the same time and he is happy that at least, that didn’t change.

But Mike is more reserved, not inclined to entrust anyone with anything that had to do with him, his thoughts or his feelings. Silent.

It’s like the secrecy of his thoughts, locked away even from Will, was so discreet that all the rest—in presence, in body—had to just be the exact opposite.

Or maybe he was just doing it on purpose.

Because Mike wouldn’t do all this if he wanted to keep Will asleep.

The big light was on, and from what he remembers from last night they had already clean everything, stalling time before they would part to sleep.

Will hears him go up the stairs, the creaking sound of the fifth step making sure of it and he finally relaxes entirely now that Mike is gone and can’t see him. He stretches, his back already feeling better. In the quietness of the house he guesses that Mike is having a glass of water—the element rolling through the pipes.

He suddenly realizes that he, himself, is very thirsty too—probably from all the salted food they had ingurgitated the previous night—but withdraws, finds his previous position and closes his eyes again when he hears the fifth step crack again. The big light is turned off, but seconds later, the little one next to his head is turned on.

Now, Will knows Mike is doing it on purpose.

Mike drops something on the table near him (probably a glass of water because Mike cares like that) and Will’s cheeks heat up yet again, both from the fear of being caught and the little wind carrying Mike’s essence as he walks close by.

Will knows that Mike wants him awake—hence his sigh—just so he would tell him, once again, to “just go to bed, it’s more comfortable, we’ve been sleeping in a van for four days, come on now.” Even though they last slept in the van a week ago.

He feels the presence of Mike near him and he wonders for how long he’ll be able to hold. Will had a strong mind but whenever Mike was close that was a whole other thing.

But he doesn’t want to talk.

Because even though they were on good terms, even though they both forgave each other, even though they were physically closer—drawn like magnets, unable to stay more than a feet away since they’ve reunited—, it still was hard to just talk, unsaid truths and confused feelings hanging in the hair above their heads, out of reach, unable to make themselves understood.

So it ends in disappointment, frustration and pain, sometimes anger. Both of them keeping things from the other, but dying to tell and dying to know the other’s thoughts just like before when they didn’t have to talk to know. Those six months apart were awful for their relationship. They don’t say anything anymore or barely scratch the surface of deep thoughts that would usually just speak themselves out whenever they were together.

Crazy together .

Just the both of them.

And the feelings involved, at least on Will’s part, the overgrown seed that had bloomed in Will’s chest while he was in California—under the sun and far away from the darkness and coldness of winter in Hawkins or worse, the Upside Down—making sure it makes everything awkward, as if them growing up and changing into men wasn’t enough to make everything awkward.

When did his hair get so long? Will had asked himself on the day he had let himself hope so much that the disappointment was just as great, a fall he almost didn’t think he could get up from. Because Mike had slipped away from him—still was somehow—and Will didn’t like not knowing. Especially when they used to share absolutely everything .

He hears Mike cough, but far away, from the corner of the basement, Mike being extra careful that it doesn’t sound like he is doing it on purpose when obviously he is.

Maybe it’s because he is sleep deprived, maybe it’s because if he doesn’t do something he’ll get upset at Mike, maybe it’s because he wants—needs—to keep Mike close to ease his mind—not his heart, he had stopped counting on that too—but when Mike’s feet shuffle on the carpet on the space between the little table and the couch, Will’s left hand slips out from between his knees and reaches for Mike’s right, his eyes still closed.

Mike pulls his hand for a split second—until he realizes—and stops. He feels him turn around under his fingers and Mike squeezes his hand, only slightly, a little pressure only Will’s sensitive body would feel, for his body becomes hyper aware around Mike. Especially with Mike’s touches.

“Mike?” he only half asks (because of course it’s him), is tongue coated.

“Y-Yeah,” Mike whispers back, half asking too but frozen, and for a minute he wonders if Mike thinks that he is dreaming.

Mike gets closer and Will’s elbow rests on the couch. When he finally dares to open his sleepy eyes he sees Mike squatting down. Their hands are still holding and Will looks at them, unable to meet Mike’s eyes.

"Are you ok?” Of course. Will almost gives in because this voice always goes with this look but then Mike’s hand shifts under his until every one of his fingers end up between Will’s, phalanges against phalanges, bony fingers against tanned ones, tip of fingers against knuckles. Will squeezes when the movement stops, his heart numb from the slow and sweet gesture, his palm tingling under Mike’s bigger and colder one.

“Yeah, I am.”

Sleep-deprived Will becomes obsessed with their fingers intertwined and his mind doesn’t think before his body acts and his thumb slowly caresses Mike’s hand where it falls.

“Did you sleep well?”

And Will gives in. He stops his thumb for less than a second before remaining as he wonders how it surprises him that Mike seems to always ask the right questions, unlike everyone else who obviously doesn’t care about the answer.

So Will gives in when his eyes shift to Mike, and he is glad that the other seems transfixed on their hands too so he isn’t caught looking.

Under the little lamp Mike seems tinier, more fragile than he probably ever was. The word that comes to Will is “raw”, and his artist’s mind resurfaces suddenly, forever disappointed that we don’t have cameras in our heads to keep beautiful memories, beautiful people whenever, wherever. Will knows that Mike is handsome, at least to him, but here, he was perfect. Both in the artist’s mind and the boy’s mind that is in love with Mike.

“Until you got here,” he replies, when he made his mind promised him that he will not forget this mental picture, while the ghost of a smile plays on his lips.

“Sorry,” Mike apologizes in a distant voice, his eyes still glued on the pattern Will is making, back and forth.

“No, you’re not,” and the smile intensifies because he knows Mike so much, because he just caught Mike doing all this. “You wanted me awake.”

And then Will shuffles, he stops his movement and squeezes Mike’s hand a little as he stretches his back again, laying on it as he stares at the ceiling. He wants to look back at Mike because, better than his touch, his eyes were a relief, a hot cocoa on a cold winter day, a sweet pie freshly out of the oven; warmth.

“Maybe,” Mike replies with a sigh and it takes everything in Will to not turn his head and watch Mike’s lips turn into a smile.

Mike’s lips.

Will remembers exactly the moment he knew he was different. Very different. Before the whole Zombie boy episode.

Christmas 1981.

His mom had rented a cheesy Christmas romcom—among Will’s favorite horror movies—which she chose, because as she said “I don’t know how you can watch those horrible things before going to bed, I need something lighter”. So they had watched The Exorcist and The Evil Dead and then Miracle on 34th Street. Usually he wouldn’t watch three movies in a row, not on christmas night, not on any night. But his mom had been so happy about it that he couldn’t have let her watch it on her own. Even Jonathan stayed. And it’s all it took to change everything for Will. It’s all it took to make him different. Because it’s a movie where love is involved; love, this thing so big that it stops and accelerates everything, so big that it changes the course of your life, so big that you almost become someone else, sometimes worse, sadder, sometimes better, happier, euphoric.

It only took one scene.

A kiss. A kiss, behind a screen, in front of a camera, on his little television, in his little home.

One kiss. One kiss and he was done for. Because of course he had to wonder what it must feel like to kiss or to be kissed. Of course his mind would wonder if it’d be cold, warm, disgusting or sweet, maybe be all of it all at once. And of course his mind would shoot him a picture of Mike’s lips. Red and smiling, smiling at him from something he’d say. And of course his heart would beat faster at the thought. Because Mike was sweet and gentle and beautiful.

He remembers being unable to sleep that night—and not from the excitement of opening the presents waiting for him under the tree—and thinking about it for a few days after it, unable to look Mike in the eyes. And then it passed, school was school, home was home and Mike was just Mike as long as he wouldn’t look at his lips for too long.

But then it came back and it started to hurt to think of Mike kissing someone else because the first kiss was such a big thing apparently and maybe he had let himself hope that they would be each other’s first.

Maybe in another universe.

“Why?” He asks and represses the memory though the feelingis still present everyday. He brings Mike’s hand over his stomach instead and takes it in both his, his forearm brushing and staying on Mike’s in the process. His fingers are on the back of Mike’s hand where the tip of his fingers feels the bones and both his thumbs go over each of Mike’s fingers, up and down, before doing little circles on his pale palms.

“Why what?”

At this moment, Will realizes they are both in some kind of other world, not the same at this point in the night—or early morning—and it pains him as much as it fascinates him. Oh, how the human brain works.

He takes a brief look at Mike, even though brief isn’t a solid measure of time whenever it comes to Mike. But he is relieved to see that the dark brown eyes aren’t staring back. Mike moves, cross sitting on the floor, his free arm finding a little space next to Will’s chest where his pointy elbow drops the couch a little and he rests his head on his hand, his long fingers reaching his cheekbone.

Please don’t let me forget this.

His eyes follow the line of Mike’s now long hair, the first surprise, the first leap of his heart when he saw his friend for the first time after six months of mere thoughts; thousands possibilities, thousands hopeful possibilities about how they would reunite again.

A thousand disappointments.

“Why did you want me awake?” he asks.

“I–” but Mike stops and meets Will’s eyes who only hears Mike sighs before he looks away and shuffles to sit cross legged on the couch, never leaving Mike’s hand which now rests on his ankles.

“Mike you can—”

“I feel like you’re keeping things away from me,” he cuts him.

And that’s exactly why he should have kept on pretending to be asleep.

Avoiding was good.

Avoiding wasn’t lying.

He lets go of Mike’s hand, already missing the touch even though it was a cold one. He got used to Mike’s cold body over the years. Mike's coldness; the one cold thing that would send nice and warm shivers down his spine and electricity through his heart.

His head tilts up to find the back of the couch as he rubs his face.

“You can’t tell me it’s not true,” he adds before Will can even defend himself, before Will can lie.

“Mike there are things…”

“Yeah I know Will, I know. But it’s me.” He hears Mike move and the couch next to him lowers before their shoulder brush and so their hip and so their knee. Will wants to lean in so desperately, probably the tiredness speaking again, and so he barely thinks about it when he does, but only with a slight pressure so Mike doesn’t think Will wants more—even though he always will. “You know, that thing you said about how it’s hard to open up? Especially when you know the person?”

Will’s heart skips a bit.

What if Mike is about to say something?

Stupid hope.

He almost wants to say no, denying everything again. But Mike knows. Mike knows him and even though Will had treasured this for years, worshiped it for years, welcomed it for years, right now he wishes the other wouldn’t read him so easily.

“Y—Yeah?” he tries not to stutter and fails because so close to Mike, the overthinking turns into a fog in his mind and it twists every thought, mixes the things he wants to say and the others he wants to keep for himself.

Mike takes his hand back and Will looks at it, the fog in his head gone.

“I just want you to know that you’re safe with me, Will. I’ve thought about what you said and then... then I felt you drift away and I guess I just…” he sighs, looking for the right words while Will is surrounded by the ones he’s just said, wondering where this is going. “I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I mean it.” It feels like he wants to add more but he stops abruptly and Will’s head leaves his shoulder to look him in the eyes, to make sure he is ok.

“I know, Mike. You didn’t have to say it,” and he squeezes his hand and smiles a little but Mike frowns. Unconvinced.

“And yet you’re not telling me everything.” His hand slips from Will’s, painfully slow, to end up dangling between his legs, his body bending further from Will.

“What makes you think that?”

“What—?” He scoffs and now Will’s fear starts crawling up from the place it was just hiding, asleep, waiting for the words that would bring it back. “You’re quiet.” Mike states, all seriousness back on his face as he looks at Will from over his shoulder and Will’s fear goes back to sleep.

“I’ve always been quiet,” and this time his heart doesn’t stop or speeds up, it just beats because that’s the truth.

“You’re quieter .”

Will pauses. Yeah maybe.

“I don’t have much to talk about?” he shrugs and bends a little to be in the same position as Mike, elbows on his knees, and now their shoulder are brushing again.

“You always have something on your mind, Will.” It’s soft in Mike’s voice, because Mike always had that special tone that made everything better and sweeter. But there’s a hint of reproach too when Mike nudges against his shoulder a little. “What’s on your mind right now?” he dares and Will blushes at the question, so sudden, caughting him off guard.

“I.. I can’t…”

“See?” Mike raises his arm and pauses. “What are you so afraid of? It's me.” Mike reaches for his left hand again and squeezes it gently. The voice is just a whisper.

Will’s eyes shift from Mike’s left and right and fear comes back. Because if it goes on like this he knows he won’t be able to keep his thoughts to himself.

Mike always had that power of getting things out of him—whether words or evil—and he can’t deny that he was feeling better every time afterward. But the fear he feels right now stops him from saying anything.

“Mike—”

“We used to share everything.”

“Yeah, we used to—” A pause and they both sigh, synchronically. “I really don’t want to do this again.”

“Me either.”

“Why does this keep happening?”

“I don’t know.” Another pause but Mike’s hand never leaves his and Will is torn between letting it go and go away or intertwine their fingers because he never wants to let go of Mike. How could he when he is the boy that makes everything sweeter? "Do… Do you think we’re bound to just... be like this?”

“I don’t know, I hope not,” he states in a whisper, squeezing Mike’s hand a little and moving his fingers.

“I mean, I guess that as long as we keep things from each other then, yeah, I suppose it’s always going to be that way?”

“I guess,” Will says in a sigh and he leans back on the couch.

Mike leans back too, their hands sitting between each other as they both look at the ceiling. The lamp is making a circle of light on the ceiling. For a split second Will dreads the moment the circle will flicker.

“I miss you,” Mike says first, because Mike is always the first to give in when he is confronted with silence. Will knows he hates it. He just doesn’t know why he hates it.

“I’m right here Mike.” Will answers, squeezing his hand even though he feels the same.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know,” he absentmindedly replies when he looks to his left and watches Mike bring his free hand into his hair, something he’s never done before, his eyes closed underneath his elbow.

Will is tired and he is in love and the boy he loves is so fragile next to him, so frail, he isn’t sure what to say or do anymore.

He rubs the hand in his with his thumb, his heart beating faster because it’s a gesture only lovers do. Mike slowly opens his eyes to meet his, his elbow moving uo to reach his forehead.

“I miss you too, Mike.” And even he knows that he’s never pronounced his best friend’s name that way. When he heard it coming out of his mouth it almost sounded like an ‘I love you’.

Mike straightens up, a little bit puzzled.

Please don’t let him figure this out.

Will can feel his cheeks blushing, if not burning and he removes his hand from Mike’s, ashamed.

“You do?”

Yes, I love you Mike.

But he purses his lips and nods slightly instead, looking away before he can even think of doing something dumb or saying a mistake. He rubs his hands against one another in between his legs. He knows he is about to cry, from the tiredness first and the constant hiding then.

Hiding from Mike was the most tiring thing to do; making sure he doesn’t give anything away, careful with his every move all the time, even more when Mike is around. Lying to Mike, not telling him how he feels. Pretending to be happy being best friends, a team. When he actually always wanted more.

A gentle hand finds the space between his shoulder and when he doesn’t react, his face still hiding in his hands—mostly to keep the tears from falling—, Mike’s palm slowly moves up and down. When Will stays still, his breathing just a little louder but not loud enough for Mike to hear he is having trouble, the hand leaves and is replaced by cold.

“What happened, Will?”

“What do you mean?” he asks after inhaling a little louder than he expected. He is looking at Mike whose legs are bent close to his chest and wrapped by his arms. He lays his chin on his knees, looking down.

“To us,” he replies and looks back, his long hair cascading over his pajamas. Will’s eyes follow the move from over his shoulder and only now does he realize that he has lost all contact with Mike’s body. He shivers at the realization.

“I don’t know, nothing I guess,” he shrugs.

“More like everything,” Mike sighs.

Now it’s Will who’s looking at him with a puzzled look, and a mix of nostalgia, sadness and heartbreak fills his insides because he doesn’t understand Mike anymore.

Six months apart and the feelings weren’t the same, so deep actually that they’d take too much space for anything else.

Six months of figuring things out and finally being alright and happy about seeing Mike. Only to have it shattered seconds after their meeting, seconds after they were back together.

What a fool.

“We’ve lost each other,” Will whispers, speaking out loud the conclusion of his thoughts.

“Do you think we can find each other again?” The voice is so feeble, Will almost doesn’t believe that the real Mike is in front of him. It makes him want to cry even harder, the lump in his throat hard to swallow.

“We can try.”

“Is it going to be enough?” Their eyes stay on each other but it feels like they aren’t, lost in a world the other can not get to. “With Vecna dead, you don’t need my…” he pauses and crosses his arms over his knees so he can rest his chin on his sleeves, looking ahead, leaving Will’s eyes. Will follows his look. “You don’t need protection anymore.”

“Why does it feel like I still do then?” Will doesn’t even think before he asks, his answer the only logical one, the only honest one as he doesn’t wait for Mike to look back at him. Maybe he can share some of his fears, maybe that’s how they’re going to find each other again. “I’m still always afraid, Mike. I still can’t sleep, I still wake up, full of sweat from a nightmare, almost every night. I always fear something bad is going to happen, especially to y... to the people I love, the nightmares make sure of that, and… and I just can’t Mike,” he turns his head but barely sees Mike through his blurry eyes. He was being weak again. Boys don’t cry. Mike doesn’t cry. Jonathan doesn’t cry. But Will does. He is weak. “I can’t go on like this, jumping and shivering all the time, especially when you’re not around,” at this point Will isn’t even sure what he is saying, he just started to talk and now words are spilling out, relieving a bit of the tension, a bit of the horror, a bit of the pain. And it was Mike. It was safe. “You help me Mike and… and I don’t want to lose you because you’re too important and I just... oh god, I’m so tired.”

An arm wraps his shoulders and it’s all it takes for the tears to fall.

He was so weak.

His head starts to ache from the minutes he’s tried so hard not to cry and he rubs his eyes indefinitely, his sleeves all wet, while Mike moves his hand up and down on his right arm. Which only worsens the sobs.

He just doesn’t want to lose Mike, he can’t afford to lose Mike. He couldn’t before and he can’t now. He needs Mike to believe that things are going to be ok. Because they always are when they’re together. They always were.

“Hey, come on, it’s going to be ok Will, alright?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Will can only reply, Mike’s words barely reaching his foggy brain.

“Don’t be, Will, it’s ok.”

“No it’s not, boys don’t cry, Mike. Boys don’t cry.”

“And yet you’re a boy, Will. Boys do cry. And it’s ok.”

“You don’t.”

The moving stops and so does Will’s sobs .

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Who said I didn’t?”

“What?”

Mike looks at him, so briefly it almost doesn’t count.

“Who said I didn’t cry?”

Will just stares at him, unashamed, all fluttery feelings he usually feel, gone, dying to hear Mike’s thoughts.

How could they have become such strangers? How could they have known each other so intimately and now nothing? Nothing but fear of doing the wrong thing. Nothing but the fear of getting into an argument whenever they talk.

“You can’t believe how hard it was without you Will. Everyone, they just... I don’t know. They all changed. I probably have too. The only thing that made me feel slightly better were the D&D games because they reminded me of you, but at the same time it was worse because it made me think of you and how much I missed you.” He sighs and Will just listens, trying to take it all in as he inhales sharply, the previous sobs not quite finished yet. “And now you’re here and we don’t understand each other anymore, we don’t talk anymore. I don’t know, I thought, with Vecna gone, everything would be back to the way it was. I’m so stupid,” he scoffs. “Nothing is the same and it’s worse than it ever has been.”

“It will get better.” Will whispers, his heart wrapped in warmth because he finally has had a glimpse of Mike’s brain.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because it can’t be worse than anything we’ve been through?” he replies, shrugging again, while Mike just stares at him as if he was looking for the truth in his eyes.

And then Will’s heart twists in his chest when he sees a tear fall from Mike’s right eye. The dark-haired boy almost looks shocked, caught off guard like a deer in the light. Mike reaches for the tear and looks at his fingers before he looks back at Will and his knees part, his mind so dumbfounded that his body loses all strength and he sits cross legged, while other tears fall and Will wonders if Mike actually feels them.

He’s never seen Mike cry.

Mike has never cried in front of him and now he isn’t sure how he feels. Relieved that Mike was indeed crying in front of him because it meant that he trusted him. But horrified at the amount of sadness he must be feeling that he can’t prevent the tears from falling. It aches in his chest but, weirdly, he doesn’t want to cry. He just wants to be there for Mike and he almost feels bad to think, at this moment, that Mike is beautiful. Mike is crying and Will thinks he is beautiful.

“Boys do cry,” he whispers as he sits cross legged too and his already wet sleeve covers his hand to reach for Mike’s cheeks. He never leaves Mike’s eyes, something he’ll never know it’d be able to do. Maybe seeing Mike so lost and weak made him a little less out of reach. A little more like him.

The fear of being pushed away vanishes when Mike’s face immediately relaxes as he leans into the touch and lets Will dry his cheeks.

“You’re ok.” It sounds more like a statement than a real question but Mike nods anyway, his cheek brushing against Will’s palm.

Will takes a brief look at his hand and he realizes that his fingertips dive into Mike’s hair. His thoughts stop for a second—which probably shouldn’t have happened because now he can hear his heart racing and feel his hand burning. Mike still doesn’t say anything and something stops him from removing his hand.

He goes a little further, this sudden courage unknown to him but exhilarating and Mike still doesn’t say anything. He has to lean in a little when his palm slides behind Mike’s head and he feels his heart coming up in his throat.

His second hand is on his ankles and finally Mike moves when he reaches for Will’s hand and squeezes it. Will immediately tenses and his left hand slides away from Mike’s hair, Mike’s jaw, Mike’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, more ashamed than ever, feeling the flames of his cheeks as he looks down, Mike’s hand still on his as he squeezes his ankles.

“Don’t be. It felt... nice.” When Will dares to look up, Mike, beautiful Mike with his curls and red puffy eyes, is smiling at him. Will wonders how one’s smile can bring so much relief, comfort and sweetness. He also wonders if the lips that are smiling at him are as sweet on his as the words feel on his heart right now.

He only took a brief look.

Mike probably hasn’t noticed.

When Mike’s hand leaves his to reach for his cheek Will finally feels like they’re on the same page. Not entirely there but getting there. He leans in as the palm replaces the fingertips, cold hand sending shivers down his spine. For a second he dares close his eyes and hopping for more like the fool he is. Fingertips caress the space where skin and hair meet and it’s so relieving, so new, so sweet, so overwhelming that he feels something shatter inside. Mike has broken something. And it’s powerful, beautiful and—

“Will?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he says in a sigh as a single tear falls, unexpected. He grabs Mike’s hand before it can slide away and leave him in the cold again. He keeps it on his cheek, eyes still closed. Maybe he had fallen asleep at some point and now he was just dreaming. That must be it. Where would he find the courage to do this? In which universe Mike wouldn’t push him away? It didn’t feel real. “It felt nice indeed,” he whispers in a smile as he lets go of Mike’s hand.

He looks up but doesn’t meet Mike’s eyes who seem to be looking down. Looking down at his—

No.

Will knows that if he looks at Mike’s lips again he won’t be able to make the difference between fantasy and reality. He’s imagined kissing Mike a countless amount of time. Whenever a kiss was shared he would imagine him and Mike. Not anyone else. Just Mike. A movie, a couple in the supermarket, needy teens in the corridors. Everytime he couldn’t help but look and then wonder how it would feel to kiss Mike. The mere thought would make him blush and, more than once, he caught himself caressing his lips with the tip of his fingers—as if the kiss had actually happened—losing himself in the fantasy.

And then Will hadn’t been Mike’s first kiss and he felt sick about it. So sick it made him hate himself for being so jealous over something so frugal and stupid. Something he will never have. Not from Mike anyway. And he didn’t want it from anyone else than Mike.

But there was this stupid hope again. Always crawling and growing even though it wasn’t needed.

“Hey, Will?”

It's a mere whisper but it startles him out of his thoughts, making him jump a little. “Sorry. You were just... not here anymore. You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just thinking that’s all,” he replies looking in Mike’s eyes.

“What about?”

And for a split second Will is almost tempted to tell him. Because they seemed to have found each other again, they were on their way back. But sharing this thought would make Mike go away. It had to.

“Nothing in particular.” The words are barely out that he regrets them. Mike looks hurt before he looks away.

“I’m tired, Will.” He sighs and rubs his eyes while he turns around, his back hitting the couch again, and Will can’t help but associate the statement with what he’d said—or did not actually. Mike is going to get tired of him for keeping secrets. Like he isn’t making any effort to make things better.

If only he knew.

Will follows him in a sitting position facing the table. The glass still full of water on it. Untouched. Will feels Mike getting away. And it’s all his fault.

Will reaches for the glass, internally thanking Mike for thinking of him, and drinks, concentrating on the sound the water makes in his throat rather than his loud thoughts telling him he is a jerk.

He puts the glass back on the table and the basement is filled with silence again. He licks his lips from the excess of water on them and leans back on the couch in a sigh.

“Thanks, for the water,” he finally says out loud as he closes his eyes.

“Do you mind?” He hears before a head lands on his right shoulder when he turns his head. Will can’t do anything but shake his head as if Mike could see him. They’re both cross legged again and Mike’s right hand is on his knee, palm facing the ceiling; an invitation for Will to take it.

He doesn’t.

“Have you ever been afraid of how you feel?” His heart surely skips a beat and he must have a super power for his voice doesn’t quiver when he answers.

“All the time.”

He feels Mike’s head move against his shoulder, adjusting. No one had ever done this before and now he wonders if his shoulder is comfortable. He hopes so.

“Me too.” It’s a whisper, it’s a breath, it’s a shiver that almost makes Will tremble when Mike’s breath falls on his neck, just above the collarbone, unexpected and invading. His hand grips his knees slightly from the sudden rush in his veins. How could something so sweet could feel like torture?

He lays his head on Mike’s curly hair, and it feels just as comfortable as he’d imagined, just as comfortable as seeing it in a movie.

Then Mike takes his hand and it’s suddenly hard to have any coherent thoughts when Mike is so gentle and open to him—he still couldn’t believe that he had cried in front of him. It was even harder after all this time where he had been so far away, so out of reach.

“This is nice too,” Mike says and all the imaginary kisses he’s had with Mike turn around in his head.

This could lead to it. Maybe Mike wants the same thing.

The thought of being rejected doesn’t even occur to him right now. And if it’s a dream then he could just try to go for it, right?

“Do you think there is a solution to make the fear go away?” And Mike must have been closer because Will is sure he felt his lips move against his skin. He definitely feels the bridge of Mike’s nose against his neck. He squeezes the hand he holds, still unable to talk, his heart now reaching his throat.

He manages to turn his head slightly, his own lips reaching for Mike’s hair, and inhaling his shampoo makes him relax. Sends him back to a time where he wasn’t overwhelmed by a boy.

“I wish there was.” He finally replies in a whisper. Mike squeezes his hand as a mix of a laugh and an exhale goes out of his nose, hitting Will’s neck again.

Mike’s head ends up on his collarbone when Will turns a little to the left so his free hand can reach for Mike’s cheek, cold from the fallen tears.

Mike leaves his shoulder before he slides any further down and follows Will’s hand on his cheek. They’re now facing each other and the sleep-deprived state is making Will a little delusional, a little more hopeful than usual and... bold.

Mike always gave him strength. This was no exception.

They stare at each other’s eyes while Will’s hand goes further into Mike’s hair, just like before. Except everything is different. Mike doesn’t freeze as he uncrosses his left leg so it dangles off the couch. Their holding hands detached, and Will’s left find its place on the couch, right next to Mike’s hips, bringing his body closer. Maybe too close?

When has anything been too close with Mike? It was never enough.

Mike leans back, guided by Will’s hand which has reached the back of his head, thumb rubbing just under his ear.

His right leg stretches out as Will lifts both of his, pushing all his weight on his left arm. His knees surround Mike’s right leg when Mike’s head reaches the armchair, Will’s hand still stuck in his hair.

Will looks at Mike’s lips, very aware that he might get caught. He actually wants to get caught, he wants Mike to know how he feels, what he wants from him. The red lips are slightly parted and Will has to grip the blanket with his left hand to stop himself. It’s thrilling and terrifying at the same time. He feels like he can’t stop, he needs to try, no matter how hard his mind is telling him not to. He has to try.

The fear of being rejected all gone, hope and anticipation take all the space when he leans a little more, his elbow bending. His eyes finally unglue from Mike’s lips, stop on his freckles for a second before meeting his eyes. They’re wider than usual but Will—though he might be going insane—sees no fear in them.

It’s painfully slow as he leans in, somehow still waiting for Mike to push him away at some point, realizing that this is a mistake. Maybe Will could turn it into a joke?

Of course not.

Any doubt stops when he has to look down to see fingers, Mike’s fingers, touching his lips. His left hand almost doesn’t hold, and if it wasn’t for his mind telling him that he would crush Mike if his arm gave up, he wouldn't be able to keep the strength.

His bottom lips bounces when Mike’s index goes down before all ten fingertips tickle his chin sending electricity through them. The touch is soft, like all the touches he has ever shared with Mike in the past, but this time feels different.

Will fights to not close his eyes and lean into the touch. Instead, a shuddering breath escapes his lips echoed by Mike’s.

“Shouldn't we—”

“I want to,” Will replies, making sure he looks at Mike’s lips in between two heavy breaths, anticipation building up and making it hard to breathe.

“Me too.”

It doesn’t take much more time for their nose to touch and they breathe each other’s air as their lips brush against one another. They stay like this for a second, both their eyes closed and Mike’s head leaves the couch, guided by Will’s hand when both sets of lips fully meet and at this exact moment Will forgets everything he’s ever imagined, everything he’s ever wondered because it meant nothing.

The relief is so great, the pain from the impossible wait so sweetly washed away, he even forgets himself to be just Mike’s for a second. As if the kiss meant sharing his thoughts. Will breathes heavily through his nose. He’s never done this, he doesn’t know when to stop or when to breathe so when Mike’s fingertips are all over his jaws, neck and chin he lets the other boy tilt his head to the other side as he kisses back.

Will, to his disbelief, has to leave Mike’s hair and hold his right hand on the armchair for he is afraid he might fall if he doesn’t. He wonders how he can think of this when he is kissing Mike, when Mike is kissing him.

He mumbles against Mike’s lips and he opens his eyes just as the dark-haired boy's head falls back on the armchair, his hands never leaving the back of his neck.

“How... How do you breathe?”

“You don’t,” Mike smiles, as out of breath as he is and Will barely has the time to figure anything out that Mike sits up and kisses him again.

His hands leave the couch as he sits on his heels and both his hands reach for Mike’s cheeks, cupping them—it happened in that movie from Christmas 1981—and it must be right because he feels Mike smile against his lips, a loud breath escaping his nose.

A gasp escapes his own lips when Mike’s hands reach for his hip, squeezing them gently. It burns where Mike’s thumbs add pressure but somehow Will wants more. He has more than he’s ever dreamt of, but he still wants more, needs more. He naturally welcomes Mike’s tongue on his bottom lip until it reaches his own and it’s far less disgusting than he had imagined. A little weird at first but finally they were together, closer than they’ve probably ever been after spending an hour talking, trying to find each other back to the other, the kiss the summit of the moment, provoking boiling veins and flying hearts. The amount of feelings forces Will to tug at Mike’s hair a little. The other adds pressure on his hips making it even harder to breathe and when they part, both panting, Will looks at Mike’s head, which his a little tilted up, and the insane thought of tasting alights and he starts with one kiss at the corner of Mike’s lips, following with the sharp cheekbone he’s always been mesmerized about. Each kiss interrupted by deep breaths. He reaches the jawline, his hands both down Mike’s neck who breathes hard in his ear. It almost feels like he wants to say something but he can’t and Will is too concentrated on living gentle kisses that he doesn’t think he’d be able to hear the other talk.

He leaves a kiss under Mike’s right ear after brushing his hair away when he feels arms wrap around his back and he stops for a second. The hands turn into fists, clutching at his shirt and Will’s arms slides down, over to Mike’s arms and he hugs him. A lump slowly starts to build up in his throat, the emergency of Mike’s grasp alerting all his senses—as if they hadn’t shared something he’s dreamt about for years, already messing with his thoughts and feelings.

“Mike?” He clears his throat, his hands rubbing the other’s back. “Are you ok?”

But when Mike doesn’t answer and his grip tightens, Will doesn’t know what to do until he feels his shoulder getting wet.

He wants to apologize instantly, thinking that maybe Mike thinks this was a mistake, that somehow he, Will, forced Mike into it, and the thought terrifies him, but something in the way Mike is gripping at his shirt and the way he said ‘me too’ tells him otherwise.

He hopes he is right.

He hopes he is able to understand Mike again.

“It’s ok, Mike. I’m here.”

His right hand goes up in Mike’s dark hair while the other keeps on rubbing his back.

“I’m…am so—sorry... I don’t—”

“It’s ok Mike, we can talk later,” he shushes him and Mike’s tears turn into sobs.

Will wishes he could do more but he knew better. He knew how it was like to feel so overwhelmed by everything, especially when Mike was involved. Every emotion passes, heart and mind fighting for being right. The reason and the feelings all tangled and mixed up that all you can manage to do is cry.

But Mike might not feel the same after all. Will is like this. Mike is probably not.

Will comforts Mike the best he can nonetheless, mimicking his family and friends whenever he was in this situation. Hugs and silence helped. To know that he wasn’t alone helped.

When Mike’s chin leaves his shoulder after a few minutes, Will’s arms slide on his body until his hands reach for Mike’s shoulder. Of course Mike is looking down, ashamed, so Will brings his right hand on Mike’s cheek and tilts his head down a little to look at him. Mike’s eyes briefly go up and Will hopes he has seen his smile.

“Are you feeling ok?” He asks above a whisper, afraid of startling the boy in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccups, “I don’t know—”

“It’s ok Mike, you don’t have to tell me,” he smiles sincerely.

“But I want to,” Mike almost exclaims, vividly taking Will’s free hand in his which makes Will blush. “I just don’t know how to explain it,” he adds, looking down again.

Will’s hand leaves his wet cheek and grabs both Mike’s hands in his. They’re facing each other and this time their knees are touching.

Mike takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and Will has to fight the urge to kiss him again, hoping that a kiss would make all the hurt go away. It did work for Will.

The minute the walls broke down, he knew he couldn’t back down. For him, it was Mike. Mike was his everything. His best friend, his twin, his confidant, his savior, his hero, his Paladin. His. And maybe he wasn’t all that to Mike but he didn’t mind. As long as Mike will accept him. As long as Mike will stay by his side. It felt like he had given his heart to Mike and all he could hope for was for Mike to take good care of it. It was dangerous, because even without his heart, Mike had still hurt him.

But universe is funny that way. Love is funny that way.

“Can we lay down? I’m... I’m very tired.”

“Yeah sure,” Will replies wondering how his voice could be so steady when his heart is beating so loudly. “Come here.”

His mind gets foggy again until Mike’s head lay against his collarbone and Will lies down, slowly, holding Mike’s body; both from preventing him from falling on the ground and from the invisible attacks from the outside world. One of his arms is above Mike’s shoulder and with his other hands he grabs Mike’s right arm, laying him down gently against him.

The dark hair brushes against his chin and despite the situation, he feels himself sigh into the comfort of their position. All the tiredness comes back to him, making him suddenly aware that it’s the middle of the night and that he shouldn’t be awake. Though being awake right now felt way better than nightmares or any sleep filled with darkness.

He kisses the top of Mike’s hair—another gesture stolen from a movie his mom watched—and caresses it while one of Mike’s arms slides around his chest.

He lets Mike relax and find a regular breathing, waiting for him when he’ll be ready to talk. The fog escapes from his mind when he realizes that this is it.

This is what he has dreamt of. This was all he needed. Him and Mike. Mike and him. Both of their limbs tangled, arms and legs mixing to a point where one can hardly make sense of which belongs to whom.

He sighs again and closes his eyes as he lays his head on top of Mike’s, his hand still going up and down.

“Thank you,” he hears just before his mind could wander off. “And I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Mike.” He feels the other’s head move against his chest, in a nod or a shake of the head, he doesn’t know. It just seems like Mike is trying to get closer to him as if this wasn’t the closest they’ve ever been. “Do... Do you regret it?” He can’t help but ask, the question coming out of nowhere.

“What?” Mike half exclaims, half asks as his head leaves Will’s chest to be replaced by his hand so he can look him in the eyes. “Of course not! Why would yo— Do you?”

And the fear he sees in Mike’s eyes makes him regret opening his mouth the first time.

“It was stupid, sorry. Forget about it.”

Mike is almost about to give up. But then, it wouldn’t be Mike. It almost makes Will smile. He did know him so well. On that part at least.

“No, Will, I need to know. Don’t shut me off again. Not for this. Please.”

Mike’s hand on his chest turns into a fist and Will watches as tears brim in the other’s eyes. Before he can say anything, he lifts himself up on his elbows, getting closer to Mike’s body. Their noses are almost touching and he sees Mike frown a little in confusion.

“How could I regret it when I feel like I’m in a dream?” He whispers against Mike’s lips and he sees the blush coming up on Mike’s face as his eyes widens. Seeing Mike so close and so delicate in front of him makes him feel that light in his chest, the one that makes him bold, the one that stops the overthinking, the one that tells him he can just be. His eyes are still puffy and his cheeks are glowing a little, the light hugging perfectly the wetness of his cheeks. “I’ve dreamt about kissing you so many times, Mike. How could I possibly regret it?” Mike stays quiet and Will brings his right hand up to Mike’s face, caressing his bottom lips with his thumb and watches Mike close his eyes at the touch. “So many times.” He makes sure to detach every word, makes sure that Mike accepts and welcomes his confession before his hand slides under Mike’s chin and their lips connect again, a shuddering exhale coming out of Mike’s nose.

Mike pushes Will a little, his hand still clutching onto his shirt, and he has no other choice but to lay back down on the couch. His hands find Mike’s face and he almost wants to cry at the overwhelming feelings that come when Mike bites his lips as he tries to readjust their bodies. Will’s hips are surrounded by Mike’s knees and Mike’s hair tickles his cheeks whenever he tilts his head. This kiss is different. So sweet and so painful at the same time. Hungry. He wants to stop it because he is afraid his heart won’t take it, but he just can’t because he’s never felt so free before, so relieved, so alive.

So he lets his hands find Mike’s hips before his tongue rubs Mike’s lips. When both tongues meet, Will adds pressure on Mike’s hips and Mike’s knees go a little further up, almost reaching his elbows before he feels his face being cupped by Mike’s cold hands. It did feel nice to have your head cup like this, in between the hands of the one you love.

The movies were right.

This time, when they break apart to catch some air, Mike is the first one to open his eyes and when Will opens his to meet, he feels ashamed, naked even from the look Mike is giving him.

It throws him off balance a little and he doesn’t dare to move one muscle. Only his eyes who search in the others for whatever is on his mind. He most certainly feels himself blush under Mike’s gaze and all he wants is to hide away and have that goofy smile the girls always have in the movies when they feel embarrassed. After they’ve shared their first kiss–kisses—with the person they had their heart onto. It felt silly but so huge and sweet at the same time that Will doesn’t note the awful comparison his mind just made.

His hands on Mike’s hips burn him so he removes them and feels Mike sit on his lap while he hides himself behind his hands.

“Will,” he hears in a whisper and his heart melts even more. Mike has his heart and he can’t do anything else than let him control it. Whether with his voice or his touches or his kisses. “Don’t hide, please.”

Soft, long and cold hands find his and it’s no surprise when he lets Mike remove them from his face.

“I feel so silly,” he says, his eyes closed but a smile on his face.

“Why for?” Mike’s genuine question makes him open his eyes and he can see that he is sincere, that he really wants to know what’s on his mind. And Mike, having shattered Will’s walls, and Will having given his heart to him, gives up anything left in him and confesses.

“Because... I just shared a kiss, kisses, with my favorite person in the world and—”

“I am?”

“Mike. I lo—” he stops, he can not confess that though. That’d be too much. “How can you even doubt it?” He asks, sitting up when Mike’s hands leaves his.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“What does that even mean?” Will asks again, a little lost.

“You’re just... You’re always so nice to me.” A tear falls from his right eye and Will catches it with his thumb before it can fall. Deep down he wonders how many tears Mike has left. Probably a lot since he hasn’t cried in front of Will and probably anyone, ever. “And I... I’m here, the worst friend in the world, I just bring pain wherever I go and—”

“Mike, you’re not, your friends love you,” he reassures, taking the opportunity for Mike’s pausing while he sniffs.

“But why?” Will isn’t sure what Mike is wondering about. It’s so natural to him to love Mike that he doesn’t even have to wonder why he always wants him by his side. “I’m always mean, why would they?”

Will needs a little time to process Mike’s thought, trying to be him for a second, wondering how he could even think that.

“You’re not.”

“Don’t lie to me, Will.” And he doesn't understand because he is not. Mike has always been the sweetest person to him, always here when he needed him. “I’ve been a terrible friend... Especially to you. I said things…”

“But we forgave you, Mike.”

“But you shouldn’t have!” He answers his voice a little louder now and he removes himself from Will to sit on the other end of the couch. He wipes his tears, a little angrier than before and then hugs his knees. “Why did you anyway?” He asks after a few seconds of silence has filled the room, making Will wait in anticipation. He knows Mike is more willing to confess when there’s a long silence.

“Because you’re you?” He starts and Mike’s red eyes find his, making his heart beat faster because he knows what he is about to do. But he doesn’t mind really. Not anymore. “You’re funny, careful Mike. You’re the one that always worries about his friend. You’re the one who’s always here for any of us. I know I told you already but you’re the heart Mike. And I meant it. Without you nothing would be the same.” He makes a pause, sitting next to Mike, their shoulder brushing. He knows what to say next, he just isn’t sure he could say it while looking Mike in the eye. “You think nobody told me what happened while I was in the Upside Down? You think I don’t remember how you always were by my side after, how you always were here whenever I needed you?” He takes a deep breath, lets the questions settle in Mike. “You’re important Mike. Whatever you say, whatever you do, we’ll always forgive, because we need you around us, Mike. I need you. Without you I would have been alone my whole life. You... You’re my heart Mike.”

Another deep breath escapes his lips and he is lucky he is sleep deprived for he would never have had the strength to say anything of the sort if not.

When he hesitantly looks at the boy next to him, Mike is crying silently, his left cheek on his knees and when Will’s hand finds the other he closes his eyes. He wishes he could do more for him. He wishes he could stop the tears from falling, tell him that it’s alright, that everything will be. Because they’re together now.

“Wh–How…” Mike says, obviously confused when one of his hands reaches for Will’s. He sighs, a shaky breath escaping his lips. “You’re just so nice to me,” he simply repeats. “No one has ever been this nice to me. You’re the only one Will.”

“So are you,” Will replies a little absentmindedly and Mike lifts his head to look at him. “Mike,” he whispers. “I... I love you.”

It confuses Mike, he can see it. He’s probably wondering if Will means it in a more than a friendly way. He squeezes Will’s hand and smiles gently while Will’s heart reaches his throat and this time he is the one seeing everything through a blur, tears coming in his eyes.

He said it.

And Mike is still here.

They kissed.

And Mike didn’t run away.

“I love you. And I love you so much, Mike, I—” he says while crying, rubbing his eyes and cheeks, and just can’t stop the tears from falling anymore. Both from the overwhelming sensation of admitting something so big—which he had kept for so long—and Mike’s acceptance. Mike who’s now rubbing his arm, and he thinks he feels a kiss on his forehead but he isn’t even sure and that only makes him want to cry even more. How could Mike think he was mean when he was so gentle with him all the time? Maybe his love for Mike made him blind, maybe he shouldn’t have forgiven him everything, but how could he, when all the things he kept from Mike, the memories, were the gentle hugs, gentle looks, and gentle words of confidence and strength said in a soft voice? He couldn’t.

Arms wrap around him and it’s his time to let the tears fall on Mike’s shoulder. He hopes Mike isn’t saying anything because his mind has never been foggier and his heart has never beaten faster and he isn’t sure he’d be able to hear anything right now.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to say between two sobs, clutching at Mike’s shirt, mirroring the other from a few minutes ago. A lifetime it seems.

When he calms down and they break apart, Mike gets up and gives Will a hand who questionably but gladly and shyly takes after one last deep shaky breath.

The fifth stair cracks under their weight and after another staircase they’re both in Mike’s room. Mike closes his door with no sound and Will tells himself it’s a miracle Mike didn’t trip on the way up or closed the door so silently.

Mike turns back to him and hugs him, surprising him a little.

When arms slide away, Mike leaves a gentle kiss on his cheek which makes them both smile. Somehow, Will still thinks that none of this is real.

It couldn’t be real.

But even his mind couldn’t come up with that. He’s had nothing but nightmares and darkness whenever he’d close his eyes.

He takes Mike’s face in his hand and gently forces him to look at him. The atmosphere suddenly changes between them, quieter and comfier, the intimacy of the room bringing memories of shared jokes and secrets only the two of them knew.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I think we’re way past asking by now,” Mike replies, a little laugh escaping his lips.

“Yeah, you’re right. Just making sure,” he says in a shrug like it’s no big deal when he is actually blushing and smiling so widely it almost hurts.

“I would love for you to kiss me.”

“Mike,” Will says, a little surprised, out of breath and eyes widened.

“What?”

“You just don’t get to say things like this I—oh my god,” and he feels his cheeks burn and his smile hurts even more when his hands leave Mike’s face to hide his instead.

“Well. It’s only the truth,” Mike whispers, very close to him.

Mike finds his hands and removes them from his face but Will can’t help looking at the floor. He feels so silly to be so overwhelmed, to be able to show that he is overwhelmed, by Mike’s words.

“Will,” and Mike squeezes his hands before he gets their body closer and he looks at him from under. “You don’t have to hide from me.” He pauses a little. Will knows that, hell, he told him he loved him, he just couldn’t hide anymore— “I think it’s cute when you blush.”

“Oh my god,” Will says and he doesn’t even share a look with Mike before kissing him, Mike squeezing his hands tighter than ever.

Mike, a little taken aback, stumbles until he hits the door but none of them seems to mind, especially not Will when Mike cups his face again and for the second time he can’t believe how great and sweet and powerful this simple gesture makes him feel. He grabs the hem of Mike’s shirt and squeezes it as he lifts himself up on his toes, their chest against one another, hearts only separated by their skin and clothes.

“Is this gonna happen whenever I say something nice?”

“Maybe,” Will answers, his eyes still closed, brushing Mike’s lips with a smile.

His heels find the floor again and he rests his head on Mike’s chest, hearing the beating of his heart.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Will asks in genuine confusion and he steps back, the distance aching a little, to look at Mike.

“For, um, not saying I love you back I…”

Will’s heart skips a beat. He really did say it. And he had cried. Oh damn.

“I didn’t say it so you would say it back, Mike. I just... I just wanted, I just needed you to know.” He looks down. “I’m sorry if that made you feel bad.”

“No, not at all. Oh my god, no,” Mike instantly says before any fear could crawl up in Will’s chest. “More the contrary really I—” he puts both his hands on Will’s shoulders who then looks up. “I guess it’s weird, but not in a bad way! Oh god, I’m messing this up.” He takes a deep breath with closed eyes. “You’re important to me too, Will. You’re the closest person I’ve ever had, and having you far away those last six months, it was hell. Even worse. It… I don’t know, it just felt like everything was dark and you weren’t here anymore to make things lighter and better. I was lost in the dark without you. And now you’re back, we’re back and you say all those things to me and you kiss me and I realize I love kissing you, I really do, and then you say you love me and I guess, it’s kind of a lot.”

“Sorry.”

“Please don’t be,” Mike says softly, a hand reaching for his cheek, forcing him to look up. “I'm just, um, figuring things out?”

“I get it.” And he really does. Because Will’s been there already—minus the kisses—but realizing Mike was more than a friend, more than a best friend, it was hard to accept. Even harder when he had to convince himself that it was wrong, when it was actually the most beautiful thing he could ever feel. “It takes time.”

“Thanks,” Mike replies before he yawns.

Will smiles and pulls on Mike’s arm to lead them towards the bed. They both lay down in silence, never leaving each other’s eyes and Will surely feels like it should be a little more awkward that he is going to be sleeping in Mike’s bed with Mike but the truth is, he couldn’t care less, for Mike is the only comfort he needs right now.

“Thank you for telling me how you feel,” he says as their knees bump into each other and their heads are so close, their forehead almost touch.

“Please, never go away anymore,” Mike pleads, his eyes half closing already while he takes Will’s hand under the covers.

“I don’t intend to,” he replies, sleep getting to him now that he is in a comfortable bed with a comfortable person. His comfortable person.

They both shuffle until Mike nuzzles into his neck and Will’s arm goes over his shoulders, the warm and fuzzy feeling getting all over him.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I was awake,” Will softly replies before squeezing his arms to get Mike even closer than he already is.

They breathe in sync and fall asleep as the sun slowly starts to rise on the horizon.