Work Text:
Will doesn't feel entirely comfortable.
The tuxedo is itchy, and no matter how long does he keep staring in the mirror, he cannot decide whether it suits him or not.
It's one of the new additions to his wardrobe that has recently stopped looking like recycled Jonathan's clothes. It probably had more to do with Jonathan moving to New York than with Will growing up, but it feels nice. And the suit fits his arms and shoulders just right, the dark sand color complementing his eyes.
Still, the tie is definitely too much. It's not choking him, but there's a constant sensation of something touching his neck that Will finds unsettling. Loosening it makes him look untidy.
Will tries to ruffle his hair. Switch the belt. Change the classic shoes to sneakers and back.
Anything he tries makes him look, at best, like a rebel that he has never been. Or like a child. Or a ridiculous stiff.
Why does he even try? There's no reason to look especially good tonight. Not for him.
Maybe I just shouldn't go, he thinks. Proms are not for people like me.
Proms are for happy people. Proms are for people growing up to take their rightful place in the world. Proms are for couples, dancing and kissing to a slow romantic melody.
Proms are for normal people who fit in. A social ritual party, as Jonathan calls it.
It's not a place for a boy who dreams of his childhood best friend - who also happens to be a boy - although he knows he shouldn't.
Will doesn't like the idea of a prom. Any school dance, really.
But Will made a promise to be there. And it's only a couple of hours to endure. And his friends need him. And he's got to see the dress Max has told him about but never showed because she was afraid he's "gonna snitch it all to Lucas". And he's got to watch Dustin spoil the punch with a whiskey bottle he had threatened to sneak in in Eddie's honor. And... Mike.
Mike also might need him.
Even though they didn't talk for months. They were talking in school, sure, and they still had their Wheeler's house's basement meetings once in a while, but it was not the same.
Nothing was the same.
Mike had closed off. From everyone, as it seemed. Will couldn't read all the emotions of his face anymore, only bits and hints; although he had probably lost this ability long ago, when their relationship had its first crack.
And whose fault is this?
And then, with everything that has happened: the quarantine, the abduction of his sister and the injuries to his family, the Upside Down, the final standoff - and with El. Disappearing; a flower in the hurricane.
Mike wasn't emotional like Will was. He wasn't angry nor sad nor reflective. He was just... avoidant. Absent. Sometimes it was almost like he was a ghost.
Even on the good days there was this hole in their lives that wouldn't grow smaller.
It was hard to believe she was just gone. His sister. His friend. El - Jane. The girl of whom Will was so envious, the girl he wished all the happiness for.
The little remainders were everywhere. Her clothes on the shelves, plaid shirts and training costumes, her faint smell - wildflowers and ozone - in the house, her hairbrush on the bedstand that no one had the guts to put away, the little purple and yellow flowers doodles on the bedframe, the damned waffles in the freezer that no one could eat anymore, her features springing from under his pencil. She haunted the house like she haunted Will's mind.
And there were dreams, too. Of her standing in the utter blankness, smiling, saying things Will could never remember by the time he had woken up, covered with a sensation of a warm embrace.
The dreams appeared nearing the first December, and they kept going. Once every few weeks.
Until a couple of months ago, when instead of waking with a faint memory of a gentle comfort, he was torn from the dream by the noise of walkie-talkie static. He fixed the wave automatically before he could even open his eyes.
It was Lucas.
"Guys, guys, you gotta hear it, okay? Meet up at my place like now!"
There was some more static, and then it was Dustin, his voice still full of sleep.
"Are you mad? It's like five a.m.! Crazy jock people..."
The next sound that came through was a distinct yawn.
"What's wrong?" Will asked, his breathing getting labored and unstable as his heart pounded in his chest with a no, no, no, please, not again, no, no.
It was the middle of November.
The channel distorted with some fuss and some indistinct words, and then Max's voice came through.
"It's about El."
Will's heart exploded in his chest.
"Are you guys sleeping together? Ew. Gross. Wait, wh-"
"I'm coming."
That was Mike. Crisp and clear.
Will hadn't remembered how he put on his pants and jacket, how he got on the bike and rode to Lucas' house, his legs shaking so hard he could barely hit the pedals.
They gathered on the outside around a table, bikes left on the wet lawn. Dustin was still wiping the sleep off his eyes. Lucas stood behind Max's wheelchair, fixing the blanket on her shoulders.
Mike, his face ever as pale in the faint lantern light sprayed through morning mist, looked like he hadn't slept in a few days.
"So," Max pressed both her hands on the table, "I've been having these dreams. Like... El dreams."
Will's heart sank to his knees. It was like a nightmare. Could it mean nothing was over?
"I thought it was normal. Like, going through the stages and all that shrink crap," she trailed off for a moment. "But it was too weird. Too repetitive. Almost like... she tried to tell me something but I could never remember what it was. And it felt good, like a- a hug."
So familiar. The icy clasp around Will's chest slowly relaxed. It couldn't be just a coincidence. Nothing in their lives ever was.
"I can’t remember it either," Will had to say it.
"Man, you had those too? How many?" Lucas chimed in.
"I didn't- count. Once every couple of weeks, sometimes more."
Will clasped his hands together to stop his fingers from trembling. When he glanced up, Mike was staring at his hands like he was guilty of a crime.
"I've only got one today. Or maybe I didn't remember at all, ‘cause I never do," Lucas continued.
Dustin cleared his throat.
"I had some too."
Now they were all looking at Mike, but he just shook his head ever so slightly.
"No," he said, "Not me."
But the left corner of his lips faltered up. It was just a second, really, and it might have been the poor lighting or the overall nervous state of Will's mind - but deep in his gut Will knew Mike was lying.
"So, in this dream," Max got back on track, "El was always in this- space. Like a totally black space with water on the floor. And back when," her voice pitched up for a short moment, "A year ago, when I was with her, she said it was her mind. Literally her mind. So, I figured, if we both, and you all, are seeing the same dream of El in her mind-thing, it might mean-"
The silence between them stretched.
"She's alive," Mike whispered. "But she can't return. Ever."
There was such a desperation in his voice Will's heart had shattered to pieces. Again.
"We can find her," Dustin suggested, and for the first time on Will's memory, his tone was unsure.
"It's too dangerous," Lucas countered, "And not for us."
For her.
With the military forever on her trail.
"It could mean nothing," Max muttered, "It might just be a stupid dream."
"It's not."
There was a barely noticeable tremble in Mike's shoulders as he explained his theory. There was another silence, and there was a round of shared unspoken agreement to settle for it, and there were tears, and there was a wistful comfort of a proofless belief.
But Will couldn't shake off the feeling that Mike didn't tell the whole truth. Not this time.
And even though Will started to see a smile on Max's face a little more often, hear Lucas's laughter ring a little louder, notice Dustin's erratic in a mad scientist way spark burn a little brighter, Mike didn't change at all. He was still present in body only, his mind wandering the unknown.
So tonight, Mike also might need him, and Will wasn't going to miss out on that.
It was as stupid as five years ago, that need in Mike that refuses to go away.
Turns out, proclaiming it a simple crush isn't enough to wish it away.
And it is so wrong.
Not even because Mike is a boy. Because he is Mike. Because he knew love, too. And he lost it, too.
Eventually, Will gives up. He drops the tie entirely, unbuttons the upper button on the shirt and comes out his room with a sigh.
The ride to the prom is just like any other normal ride to the school.
"Have a good time, okay?" his mom asks, her hand reaching to fix his collar.
"Sure," Will answers and steps out of the car.
He isn't sure at all.
The gym is shimmering in blue and silver. Hawkins High, just like Hawkins Middle, lacks both imagination and budget, so it's pretty much the same Snow Ball decorations every year with rare pop ups of green and orange.
It's sickening. Will remembers the last school dance he attended too well. Last year, they were all too devastated to come. Before that there were no extracurriculars during the quarantine. So the last time, it was the actual Snow Ball.
It was quite nice at first, and then this girl whose name Will can't even recall now asked him to dance. He didn't want to, but Mike encouraged him to, and there was no way, just no way, that Will could say the truth. That he had spent all week daydreaming about how he could've asked Mike to dance with him.
Will kept his eyes on Mike's face the whole dance.
Will kept his eyes on Mike's face as he was dancing with El. They seemed so happy to just hold each other, to sway under the music. As they kissed, Will's heart froze in his chest.
Will felt so sad, and so wrong, and so dirty. He hid in the bathroom for the rest of the evening, and no one did notice. Mike surely didn't.
So the ornamented with shiny tinsels and blue balloons gym doesn't bring good memories from the years past like the decoration committee clearly hoped for. The music is exactly what Will expected it to be. Sweet, either upbeat and energetic or melodic and romantic, mostly hits from the late 70's and early 80's. Nothing too new nor too bold.
It doesn't take much time for the rest of the party to arrive.
Max is still in her wheelchair, and her pale green gown does look spectacular. Even with the sneakers poking from under the skirt. It makes her eyes shine; although that might be just the effect of Lucas' arm on her shoulder.
"You guys are so classy," Will smiled, his eyes already stinging with a happy tear.
"Don't go bawling on us already," Max quips with a laugh and reaches her arms out for Will to lean down. She squeezes him in a short hug.
"Yeah, man. The night's still young."
"Didn't plan to."
"Well, the night ain't gonna be young for a long time," comes Dustin's voice from behind. "While you're here obviously doing a fashion show, I chose practicality."
He turns around in his ridiculously large blazer.
"Three inner pockets," he says with a certain pride.
"No way, dude. You weren't bluffing?" Lucas taps his shoulder with a wide smile.
"Who, me? I'm a man of my word!"
Dustin lets them a quick sneak peak at the row of flasks on the left inner side of his blazer. Three pockets, indeed.
"You don't even drink," Max smirks.
Dustin waves his hand around. "It's about the spirit of the festivities," he explains with an emphasis, "Not the actual spirit."
"Is this spirit present?"
Mike walks into their circle, a quiet shadow. There's something new in the way he looks, though. A certain firmness to his features that Will knows all too well.
He's so gorgeous in his dark blue suit. Somehow Mike always manages to look like a work of art, effortlessly, naturally. The reason Will hates all the portraits he's done over the years. He can never capture this spark.
"Just you wait," Dustin exclaims, "Now, time to get revenge on all the punch-loving assholes!"
He leaves with those words. He doesn't even get to the punch table, ambushed by some girls wooing over him in herds. No wonder. Bad boy demeanor with his natural charisma is a wild mix.
"I'm not sure getting everyone drunk is the type of a celebration we deserve," Will remarks quietly.
"It'll still be nice to see those pricks trip over themselves to get to the bathroom," Mike snorts. "When they need to ba-"
"Oh, shut up, Wheeler."
"You shut up."
The smile on his lips, a playful, happy expression, is so startling Will forgets how to breathe for solid ten seconds. Will knows by heart the way Mike's lips curve up, the line of his teeth, the little dimple appearing on his left cheek. It makes Mike's whole face glow. It's the most beautiful thing in the world.
Will used to dream of this smile. The secret is, he still does.
The music shifts from a pop beat to a softer, way more melodic one.
Lucas offers his hand to Max.
"Would you like to take to the dance floor, my lady?"
"Don't get over yourself," she grins, "It's just because I need you to stand."
Lucas wraps his arms around her waist as Max props herself up and puts her hands on his shoulders. She's still struggling with standing for too long; she might never stop. But she's stubborn as hell, and Will finds it so admirable that she keeps on fighting.
Will steps back, carefully putting her wheelchair near the wall so no one would stumble on it, and wipes a single tear from the corner of his eyes. He's so proud of his friends. Of the love they had forged, no matter what was in their way.
"The stuff of legends, they are," Mike says quietly like he's speaking to himself. He's staring at the dance floor, too.
"Yeah," Will whispers back.
Like we could never be.
Mike's gaze unfocuses for a moment. His face grows pensive. Somber.
Will knows he's remembering the previous school dance they attended, too.
They used to know each other inside out, and it's not something you can take away. Not completely. Not on a night like this, with everything intended to take them back to the simpler times. Reminiscence embodied in one evening.
So, Will guesses what Mike is thinking about. It's all completely understandable. And it hurts like hell to understand.
Last time, El was here. They were kids, and they were daring to hope as only kids do. Last time, Mike probably believed he'd dance with El on his prom, too.
Now, she's gone. Not dead, but gone.
Will knows he must be there for his friend. His best friend. But there are no words to make it better for any of them. At least not the words Will knows.
It's the peak night of their school years, and Mike hasn't got his love to dance with. Mike hasn't got anyone to dance with.
Neither has Will. People like him are not supposed to have a dance under the bright lights in the first place. He doesn't even talk to girls in school, except for Max, even when they seem quite interested in whatever he's drawing in his sketchbook. Will's not the type to give anyone a false hope. He knows how it feels to have your heart ripped from your chest.
They both press against a wall, a song after a song. Guarding their poor broken hearts.
Lucas and Max come back for Max to rest for a while and then take back on another song, Dustin sweeps beside them, muttering something about how wrong Steve was, and they keep standing there.
"Prom officially sucks," Mike concludes after some while. His pensiveness is gone. There's a strange determination instead.
Will chuckles.
"At least there is a prom, right?"
"I'm not sold on the idea," Mike shrugs. He looks at Will, his gaze dropping down from Will's eyes after a few seconds, and then he adds, "Yet."
"Yet?"
Will raises his eyebrows.
It's so damn good to just talk to Mike. Like that, when they're alone. Well, not alone, given the crowded space of the gym, but it's not like anyone can hear them.
"Yet," Mike answers with a smirk on his lips.
Then he bounces off the wall, and the next minute he's standing before Will, one arm behind his back, the other extended with an open palm.
"Dance with me, Will."
Will's heart flips in his chest.
"Mike-"
"I mean it. Dance with me."
"You don't have to-"
Will's eyes sting. Great. Is Mike pitying him now? Is it result of the longing carved in stone on Will's face? Does Mike think Will wants a favor?
No.
Not Mike.
There must be another reason.
"Will, come on." Mike's grin grows uncertain, "I feel like a fool just standing here. Come on. Please."
He doesn't sound pitying at all. There's not a trace of concern, but he's surely nervous.
Will swallows a lump in his throat. His hands are sweating, so he wipes them on the flaps behind his back.
"You know we can't. There’re people, and it's not-"
"Ugh," Mike rolls his eyes in the manner of the old, easy-going, raw-on-his-emotions Mike that Will loves so much, "Who cares what these morons think, right?"
"I care," Will answers quietly.
He has to care. Will is bound for life to care what all the morons in the world could think about two boys dancing at a prom, even if those boys are friends, just friends. Will has to care; Will watches the news, Will listens to the radio, Will reads the reports. Will has to care, because he knows how the world is out of his tight circle of friends. And Mike knows it, too. Mike's heard Will being called a pansy since they were in primary school.
Mike reaches for his hand nevertheless. Intertwines their fingers. His palm is so warm in comparison with Will's constantly freezing fingers. Mike's thumb brushes over his knuckles, and it feels like the skin under his touch is burning.
There's a tingling tension creeping up Will's body, and he hates that he can't react in any other way.
"I know," Mike says, his voice ever so soft. It's calming. It's reassuring. "But you know I don't think the same as them, right? You're my-" he falters, like the word doesn't pop in his mind quite on time, "best friend."
"I know," Will whispers back, "And you're mine."
"Sure," Mike's eyes dart to the side. "So. Dance with me."
"Mike," Will sighs, "We can't dance here."
"The music's still loud in the hallway."
Mike pulls him off the wall.
"We can still make the night ours."
They sneak out the back, hand in hand.
Will feels dizzy.
The hallway is empty. The only light comes from the open door to the gym on the side of it.
The music is muted, but it's loud enough to tap into the melody.
Mike slides his other hand on Will's waist, sending shivers all over his body.
"Don't be mad at me if I step on your toes, okay? I'm not good at this."
Will can't help smiling.
"You too. But it was your idea, so I'm not sorry."
Will keeps his distance when he puts his hand on Mike's shoulders. Just his palms. Their bodies don't touch; Will makes sure of it. He can't spoil it by making things awkward.
"Relax, Will, would you?" Mike nudges him, "I promise to go lightly on you."
They sway in one side and then the other.
Mike extends his arm to twirl Will around.
Sonn enough, they're both grinning like idiots.
The song changes, but Mike holds his hand tight.
It's natural. It's sweet.
It's the prom night and he's dancing with the boy of his dreams. Not all dreams come true, but Will will forever have this. Now. The dark hallway, Mike Wheeler beaming at him, his hand on Will's waist, dancing to the hushed melody. It's worth the whole world.
Will's vision blurs, and he blinks a single tear away.
"Hey," Mike whispers softly, cautious not to break the pure magic of the moment, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Will smiles, "Thank you."
Mike smirks.
"Whatever for? I'm having the best night of the year."
"Me too," Will agrees, and if his voice trembles, it's only because he's so lucky to have a friend like Mike.
They keep going for a while more, until-
"Who was it?" Mike blurts out in-between songs.
Will blinks in utter confusion.
"What?"
"Who was it?" Mike's hand breaks away from Will's side, leaving it with to the sudden coldness of the air creeping under his clothes, as he gestures, "That other boy. The one you probably wished you'd dance with. You've- said before."
Will remembers what he's said. Will remembers the short conversation they've shared moment after his confession.
"I mean- If you're okay with telling me," the corner of Mike's mouth twitches anxiously, "You don't have to. But I'd like to know."
No. Way.
"You don't know," Will states the obvious.
All the years of him hiding his feelings from the world, but especially - from Mike. Guarding his dirty little secret.
He got too good at this.
"Well, no," Mike shrugs, the gleam in his dark eyes betraying his eagerness.
Will glances at their intertwined hands. It feels so good.
Would Mike still hold his hand if he knew - really knew? Not that Will simply didn't like girls. The truth.
His whole life, Will didn't like anyone but Mike.
Will didn't love anyone but Mike; he's certain he never will. Not like this. Not from the bottom of his soul.
It was hard to be brave back then, with the possible fate of the world hanging on him being able to confess his secret.
It's way harder to be brave now, when the only fate in the question is his own.
Will looks down as he lies.
"I'd prefer not to. Is that okay?"
"Okay," Mike answers way too fast, "Why?"
"I just-" Will struggles to find the words, but he owes Mike at least something, if not the truth. "It's all in the past anyhow. I know he's not... the way I am. I'm- And he's-" Will fights the burning in his eyes. Why can't he ever talk about it without crying? Is there a moment when it'll stop hurting - to love and to lose? He shuts his eyes and forces the tears away. "I'm over it now. It was just a crush."
"In California?" Mike asks attentively, his soft quiet voice full of compassion.
Will hides the way he suppresses the sob behind a vague nod.
"Okay," Mike whispers, stepping a little closer, "It's okay, Will."
And then Will is pressed into Mike's body, and Mike's hand is on his head, gentle as he strokes Will's hair, and it's so good to have his friend back, and Will has been holding it all in for so long. He trembles as the tears stream down his face for a minute, no less.
"I'm sorry," Will mumbles as he pulls back and takes his handkerchief - the unexpected upsides of the formal dress code - to wipe his face.
"You promised not to be."
There's not a trace of disappointment on Mike's face. He doesn't look like he's going to recoil any moment. And his hands are still on Will's waist.
"About stepping on your feet. Not about crying."
"Never be sorry about crying, then."
There's a soft silence between them. The soft beats of the song flow in from the gym.
Mike slightly moves to the side, pulling Will with him.
"You're really dedicated to the whole dancing thing," Will chuckles, his voice a bit hoarse.
"Like I said. It's our night. No time to waste."
Today is another day to find you
Shyin' away
I'll be comin' for your love, okay?
Will lets himself relax in the security of Mike's arms. He leans a little closer, his wrists on Mike's shoulders and his palms behind his head. Their chests are barely an inch away. Another stolen moment; more salt to the wound of his torn love.
For a moment, there's this look of pensiveness on Mike's face again.
Slowly learnin' that life is okay
Say after me
"It's no better to be safe than sorry"
"Will?" Mike starts saying something, then stops. Licks his lips.
Will's gaze lingers on that for a second longer than it would be normal for a friend.
"Yeah?" Will nudges him to continue, although he might sound a little absent-minded, consumed by the comfort of his fantasy.
Mike's next words come without a warning.
"Can I kiss you?"
Will's whole body stiffens. His legs turn to stone; he can't run away. His arms freeze in place; he can't break free from the embrace.
"Wh- What?"
Even Will's voice is blank.
Mike purses his lips. His fingers on Will's waist shake, just a little, but it's enough to make Will shiver.
"Can I? Kiss you?"
In Will's fantasies Mike has never said those words, so it has to be the reality. But- but- but-
"Why?"
Will doesn't dare to look Mike in the eyes. He concentrates on everything else. A little wrinkle between his eyebrows. A twitch of the corner of his mouth. His lips, dry out of nervousness. His lips- His-
Will snaps out of it when Mike answers.
"Because I really want to. And I thought, maybe- Maybe, if you're over him, you'd like it too. With- You know, with me."
How can he say this and still not understand?
"There is no 'him', Mike!" Will finally snaps.
Confusion's written all over Mike's face.
"But you said-"
"I lied, okay? You're my friend. My best friend, and I've been in love with you my whole life. I know it's wrong. And I thought you knew, all this time. I mean, how much more obvious I could've been?!"
Mike blinks, his mouth slightly open.
Will feels like he was just struck by lighting.
His big secret out of the box.
Mike proceeds with a defensive,
"When were you obvious?"
"Like- All the time? With what I said back then, and- and before. With the painting."
Oh, no. The guilt comes crushing on Will's shoulders. His cheeks are wet again.
Crybaby, the sound of his father's words seeps in from the memory. But Will can't help crying when the emotions swirl him, tearing him from the inside. He never could.
"The painting?" Mike frowns, "The commissioned-by-El-painting?"
"I lied about that too."
It was a cowardly thing to do. A cowardly way to express his feelings to Mike, putting El as a shield to protect himself from the utter rejection.
But it was obvious. Maybe not on the spot, but later, when Mike should've had talked with El about it. And, surely, after Will confessed his feelings before everyone. Will knew El understood. Hell, everyone understood. Why not Mike?
There's a pause. Will notices how they're not holding each other anymore. He doesn't know who was the first to break the touch.
"I don't understand," Mike says, his voice still soft but heavy with emotion, "Why did you?"
"Isn't it obvious, too? Because I was scared of losing you. I still am. I know it's wrong to-"
"Wait," Mike rushes to interrupt, and the calming warmth of his palm is clasping Will's hand again. His face is lit with a look of realization finally dawning on him. "Before you say it you've got to know- It was me who was- I was- I was so wrong, too."
"You were?"
"Yeah. Since forever. I was just so- Confused. Like, there were things in life you're supposed to do, right? Grow up and all that. That's what I was trying to do. With El, ever since she came back. But it- it didn't feel right. Because that wasn't true. That wasn't real," Mike takes a deep breath. "I was such a jerk. And I knew everything was falling apart when you went away. I was scared of losing you, too. And I couldn't- I couldn't do anything, really. I just moped and I missed you all the time."
Mike squeezes Will's hand tighter.
"I missed you, Will. I missed you. That spring in Cali I just- I hoped that if I see you, it'll just fix everything. But you were so sure me and El, we're this perfect couple that should stay together forever, and you gave me the painting that was supposed to be from her, and I got even more confused! ‘Cause I really liked what you've told me. But it didn't fit what El's told me."
It's all too much to take in. Mike missed him. Mike is scared of loosing him. Will only manages a small nod when Mike gulps before he continues.
"I- I lied too. About not having the El dreams in this past year. It's just- In my dreams, I remember what she says. She says that I should stop lying. And I always try to tell her that I don't, that I didn’t, but I- I- I did."
There are tears glistening in Mike's eyes, too.
"I lied and I kept lying, to her, to you, to myself! I don't even know why. I was so confused, and she needed me, and I thought that I was supposed to be her boyfriend, because that's what people do. But I was wrong. I was so wrong with everything that was with El- I mean, I cared for her, I really did. But it just wasn't like this," his face softens as he says the next words, "Not like I love you."
The sky crashes down. The earth splits. The rivers turn back, and the sun doesn't rise, and the moon doesn't settle, and the universe stops spinning.
Or maybe none of this really happens; but Will's whole world changes forever. The fundamental truth of Mike Wheeler never even possibly returning his feelings crashes like a sand castle under a wave.
"Mike-"
"No, I- I have to tell you, okay? When you've said you had this... crush on someone, in this moment, I hoped it was me. I hoped it was me so much. But then you said you were over it. And I started to hope it wasn't me, ‘cause that would mean I still have a chance. But I- I didn't know how to ask you about it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took me this long."
Mike takes Will's other hand too and gives it a gentle squeeze.
"I get if you don't want anything to do with me. Hell, I wouldn't want anything to do with myself either. But is there- Is there a chance that you might- not- be over me?"
Will chokes back tears as he nods.
"Yeah," he whispers, "Yeah, there is."
"Cool," Mike murmurs, stepping a little closer. His hand slides to Will's back.
"Cool," Will replies, wrapping his arms around Mike's shoulders, and they both smile, their foreheads touching slightly.
The silence stretches. They look each other in the eyes.
There's no fear anymore.
Mike traces his fingertips up and down Will's spine. Will entangles his fingers into the softness of Mike's dark curls on the back of his head.
"So," Mike eventually hums, his breath landing hot on Will's cheek, "Can I kiss you now?"
"Yes," Will chuckles, "Now you can."
Mike leans closer, their cheeks touching a moment before their lips.
They both have no clue what is right to do. It's awkward, and messy, and Mike's lips are dry, and salty, and cracked.
It's perfect.
It's everything Will has ever wished for, and so much more, wrapped in a single moment. It's a promise of a kinder future. It's an apology. It's a confession. It's the crescendo of the years of yearning.
It's a kiss with the boy he loves, with the boy who loves him.
There's nothing more to wish for in the world.
Eventually, they gasp for air.
"You're all wet," Mike complains straight away. And then, wholeheartedly, "I love you."
Will can't help giggling at his words when he wipes his cheek with his sleeve. Screw the new tuxedo. It had served its purpose. He wipes Mike's cheeks next.
"I love you too."
He leans for another kiss. And then another, and another, and he thinks he'd be quite happy to spend the rest of his life just here. Kissing Mike.
The sudden clap of the doors tears them from each other. A couple of their classmates runs by, holding hands, too consumed in their own fun.
Mike follows them with his eyes.
"They shouldn't see us," Will warns him.
"I know," Mike sighs, "But we can be brave. Just for today."
Will nods and rests his head on Mike's shoulder as they sway to the soft tune still coming through.
The hallway regains its serenity, dim and empty, made just for the two of them to dance and kiss on their prom night.
And it is, after all, the best night of their youth.