Chapter Text
"One look, dark room. Meant just for you.
Time moved too fast, you play it back.
Buttons on a coat, lighthearted joke.
No proof, not much. But you saw enough"
Will had always imagined his first date going a little differently.
Growing up, he had always been a ridiculous hopeless romantic. Of course, he kept that part tucked deep inside, locked away in a little chest in the back of his mind. The realistic, logical part of him always figured he couldn't have a fairy tale romance - not for someone like him. Someone who had to love quietly, in secret, hidden from the condemning eyes of society.
But in his heart, he had always secretly yearned for a fantasy love. Something similar to the ones he'd find in romcom movies he often watched with his mom when younger, and his sister once she joined the family. Something soft and aching and yearning.
Someone who would try to sweep him off his feet. A man who would drive across town to cheer him up, surprise him at his doorstep with flowers and a corny smile and tell him to get dressed for somewhere nice. A guy who would run through an airport or chase him down in the pouring rain to declare his love. Someone who would make him breakfast on Sunday mornings and keep a photo of him in his wallet.
Someone who wanted him.
So, naturally he had always secretly wished his first date would go just as grand. Some meet-cute moment perhaps, or a sweet gesture from someone who had been just dying to ask him for dinner. Then he would get ready, heart fluttering with nerves and anticipation as the man would come up to his front door and knock, waiting for him to be dressed. A nice dinner, maybe a walk or something fun afterwards like a movie. The guy would drop him off, walk him to his door, and he would give him a peck on the cheek before agreeing to meet again.
It was a little old fashioned and ridiculous for this day and age, but sue him. He wanted a romance that was book-worthy with a nice guy. Someone sweet and funny, with a beautiful smile and maybe he was taller with dark curls that would fall perfectly– Anyways.
Will had always secretly dreamed of a swoon-worthy love, but had accepted he would have something quiet, private. And that was fine, he could live with that. He had accepted it as perfectly alright long ago and hoped for the day he would have a chance at any of it, really.
So why, now, was he struggling to have any excitement for his first date?
Why were there no butterflies in his chest? No anticipation jitters?
Just a heavy, nervous pit deep in his stomach that made him almost nauseous.
Why, he wondered, were his hands shaking as he ran through all the ways he could back out?
Perhaps it was because his roommate, his best friend, was staring him down from behind him - his tall, beautiful roommate with the dark curls that fell perfectly.
The boy that had, just maybe, once or twice or thousands of times, been the subject of all those fantasies of being swept off his feet.
The boy he was, of course, not going on a date with. Well, potential date.
See, Will had been inseparable from Mike Wheeler for as long as he could remember. As kids, it had been effortless. Long afternoons spent shoulder to shoulder, shared secrets and their favourite things, the kind of closeness that never needed explaining. They moved through the world together, attached at the hip in a way that felt as natural as breathing.
Of course, Will's family briefly moving away left a space neither of them knew how to name. When he came back, they were older, tension-filled and awkward, less certain of where they fit in each other's lives. There was a stretch where they kept their distance, where everything felt tentative and unsaid. It didn't last, of course, it never did. They found their way back to each other like an invisible string tying them together. More entangled than ever. So it was only natural they chose the post-secondary path that would keep them as close as possible. Whether it was Mike had followed him to college or he had followed Mike, honestly, Will wasn't too sure. But what mattered is they were there, together. It hadn't even been a question of "if" they would go together, but where and when.
That's how they ended up sharing an apartment mid-town, just a short distance from their campus. It was small and worn, but comfortable enough. The walls were painted a pale yellow that had seen better days and a dim light that never quite reached every corner. It wasn't fancy, and it certainly wasn't new, but they made it theirs. Made it home.
Somewhere along the way of their forever friendship, Will's feelings for Mike had shifted into something he never found the right name for. Beyond love, beyond infatuation, beyond more than just a crush. They grew quietly out of familiarity, out of shared history, out the comfort of always being chosen first. Wanting Mike hadn't been a sudden revelation for Will, it was like it was always there - engrained deep in his bones, woven into his life so delicately before it had begun to overflow over the edge into something he could no longer ignore.
After a while, Will convinced himself that loving Mike was just another way of being his best friend. He learned how to keep it small, how to tuck it into the spaces where it wouldn't ask for anything back. The closeness remained, unchanged on the surface, even as Will carried more of it on his own.
Now, though, Will knew he couldn't let it linger forever. Loving Mike had become something he carried alone, heavy and aching with unrequited thoughts and unspoken words. A weight that, while he would carry for years, felt unfair to both him and his best friend. A weight that threatened to drown him, and he needed to try to keep his head above water. If he was going to keep living without carrying the weight of wanting Mike, he would have to let himself reach for someone else: someone easier, safer, someone who wouldn't already feel like home.
Will told himself this date with someone else was the smart choice. The right choice. The outfit was nice, the plan was simple, and the person waiting for him tonight was someone he could actually have. That had to count for something.
He was in the dimly lit bathroom, adjusting his jacket for the thousandth time before starting to fidget with the silver chain necklace around his neck. He took a deep breath as he ruffled his hair, his bangs still not falling into place the way he wanted - which, granted he didn't know how he wanted them to sit. But still, he knew they just weren't right.
His nerves settled deep in his chest, shaking his head to dispel any tremors. This was it, this was his first college date - technically. His first date ever, actually. Again, technically.
All that inner turmoil about it not being exactly how he pictured his first date, just to say: He was pretty sure this was a date. It had to be.
The guy from his psychology class had been leaning in just a little too close, his hand brushing against Will's elbow a little too often. And it wasn't just the obvious stuff, like holding the door open or laughing a little too hard at his jokes. It was the look in his eyes when he caught Will's gaze, soft but there. Like he saw something in him that Will wasn't sure he understood yet. It was a blush rising to his cheeks every time Will smiled at him, it was the wide smile seemingly only reserved for him. So, yeah, it had to be a date.
All this boy's actions led up to that Friday evening, the night prior, when Will was finishing his shift at the local record store a few blocks away. Typically, he just walked home after an evening shift - or, if it was really late, Mike would come meet him half way. But "psych boy" (as Mike so graciously called him, refusing to use his real name) just so happened to run into him and offered - or rather, insisted - on driving Will home.
Will had politely declined a few times, asserting that he didn't want this boy to go ridiculously out of his way just to drive him home, but eventually accepted. The short drive home was filled with soft laughter and light gossip over their classmates, the car radio playing just a little too quiet with a song he didn't know that well. Still, he was having fun. He was enjoying himself with the attention of a boy who was perfectly nice.
It wasn't the crushing weight he had felt with his previous crushes... well, one real crush, singular. It wasn't the world ending, dizzying, dehydrating yet drowning but you want to be drowning feeling he felt before. It was soft, subtle, a warmth blossoming in his chest. This would be good for him, he figured. A perfectly nice boy who was polite and handsome. This was someone he could be content with. Someone who could want him and he could want back.
Mike had to move forward with his life at some point, he would find someone eventually. After a mutual breakup from his turbulent relationship with El - Will's sister, of all people - that caused chaos throughout their high school years, Mike insisted he wanted to be alone for a while. Work on himself, work on his emotional avoidance and communication issues and whatever else he realized he was bad at. Come to terms more with who he was as a person. Will was selfishly glad that Mike was going to stay single for a while. Hoped absurdly that maybe Mike would realize he also liked boys and that Will would actually have a chance. He figured that was a long shot, but a boy could still dream.
After the past 18 months of Mike being alone, Will knew at some point that would end and Mike would find someone. Someone that made him happy, reaffirmed him, didn't have enough trauma to fill a landfill and then some.
So, Will should move forward too, right? Be realistic and grounded in his expectations from life.
The "psych boy," whose real name was actually Carlton, had proposed the idea as he pulled up in front of Will's apartment building. Grabbing Will's wrist to catch him before he slipped out of the car, he asked Will to come to his apartment later Saturday evening, after his roommates would be gone for the night, and they could "Work on the next assignment, or something, alone."
Will paused for a moment, shocking himself when a soft "Sure, why not?" slipped through his lips without even considering the situation he was getting into.
What really did it in for Will, what solidified the decision that this was definitely a date: It wasn't the soft smile he received in response, wasn't the boy leaning over him to pop his door open from inside. It was the firm - confident, almost - squeeze on Will's thigh before he slipped out of the car, thumb brushing against the denim fabric of Will's jeans for several moments before retreating.
And that is exactly how Will got into his current mess.
And exactly why Mike was leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom, arms crossed tightly across his chest, wearing the same scowl he had been for the past twenty three hours exactly.
"Come on, Will." Mike whined, leaning back against the counter. "Why are you stressing so much over some guy that probably can't even count to 20?"
Will frowned at that, running his fingers through his now messy hair. He knew Mike could be a bit of a brat when he decided he didn't like someone, but he hadn't even met the guy yet.
"Really, Mike?" Will said. "We're not in high school anymore."
"He's just..." Mike paused with a shrug. "I don't know, not that impressive."
Will huffed out a quiet laugh. "You don't even know him."
"I know enough." Mike rolled his eyes dramatically. "He looks like the type of guy to cry during Sixteen Candles."
Will gave him a pointed look, pausing his hair fussing to stare Mike down. "So? It's good to be in touch with your emotions."
Mike swallowed hard, backing down a bit at the dig directed at him. "I'm just saying... He's not worth this much effort, Will." Mike defended, as something pulled tight in his chest. "Most guys aren't."
"It's not about him, Mike." Will sighed, finally giving up on his bangs. "It's about me, about the fact that I've never been on a date... I want it to go good. I want it to be great."
Mike huffed out a defeated breath at that. He knew Will was right, as much as this date bothered him. Will had spent years coming to terms with his sexuality and how different it would be, at least in society, compared to everyone else around him.
As much as it bothered him that Will was wasting his energy on some lame guy, Mike knew how important this was for Will, and that he probably needed his best friend to support him.
Just the thought dropped a ten ton pit in Mike's stomach.
It's just being over protective, Mike rationalized to himself.
"I know… Look, I'm sorry for being a jerk about it." He trailed off, gathering his thoughts. Mike really had been working on expressing his emotions better - but Will was somehow both the easiest and hardest to do it with. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, or settle for someone less than what you deserve. You've been through a lot, Will, you know- you deserve to be happy. Like, really happy."
Something about that sentence caused a pang in Will's chest that he couldn't quite place. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he made his way over to Mike, who was now focused intently on staring at the crack in the tile below him. Will brought both his hands up to Mike's shoulders and gave a reassuring squeeze, eyebrows raised as the other boy looked up at him.
"Thanks, Mike. But I'll always be happy, 'cause I've got you. Right?" Will smiled softly, Mike involuntarily doing the same at just the site of it. "I'll be fine. I promise."
Mike nodded, taking a deep breath. If Will really wanted this, he was going to support him, no matter what.
"You'll call if you're not?" The need for reassurance tumbled out before Mike could even catch himself. "Like, if he's a creep or a dick or- or even if it's just awkward. I'll come get you, okay?"
Again, the becoming-familiar pang in Will's chest appeared.
"Of course, Mike." At that, Mike nodded, defeated. His eyes honed in on Will's bangs and he reached up, running his fingers through the boy's hair. Soft, he thought, before shaking it off. He adjusted Will's hair for a bit longer than he needed to.
Finally satisfied with his work, Mike pulled back to take a good look at Will. He slowly slid his hands down from the other boy's scalp, down the sides of his neck and to his collar. The action elicited a shiver from Will, a burning fiery feeling left along the trail Mike's hands followed.
His mind was racing, too fast to keep up with. He couldn't figure out why but he had this raging need to keep Will home. Keep him safe on their couch, wrapped in the colourful crochet blanket that lived on Will's side of the two seater. Keep him there, at an arm's length away, with him--
He chalked it up to that protective instinct that's been ever present their whole lives.
In an attempt to quiet the flooding thoughts, he brought his hands to the front of Will's jacket. Mindlessly fiddling with the small buttons on the brown corduroy, worn from past couple years of Will growing into it, pretending to do it up but really just stalling for time.
"You're sure you don't wanna stay home for movie night with me? I brought home this really sick video from work..." One last desperate attempt, Mike couldn't help himself.
"Tempting, really, but not tonight." Will chuckled, trying to hide the stutter as Mike played with his jacket just inches from him. Close enough that he was worried Mike could hear his heart pounding. "What about tomorrow night? We'll make dinner and everything, make a whole night out of it."
The domesticity of "We'll make dinner" never ceased to catch the breath in Mike's throat. Despite living together for a couple months now since they got to college, the idea of living such a normal and simple life always made Mike's heart swell with such warmth.
Just a couple years ago, if someone had told either of them where they'd be right now, they would have laughed in their face. The idea was so foreign, so far away, practically impossible. This was such a big change for them, living so comfortably, so casually, some days it still threw them off and felt like waking up in a dream.
"I'd like that." Mike muttered out, realizing he had stayed silent for much longer than he should have. Glancing over at the clock that hung in their kitchen, Mike felt his stomach drop. "It's 8, you should go check if he's here."
"Oh, shit-" Will cursed, one last glance in the mirror, smiling lightly at Mike's work on his hair. Much better than he could have done. Satisfied, he rushed past Mike towards the window that overlooked their street.
Will's shoulder brushed across Mike's chest as he exited the bathroom, and Mike felt a dizzy wave crash over him as his arm sparked with the contact.
"Shit, he's here." Will flailed around frantically. Mike joined him at the window, staring down distastefully at the street below him. He hoped this boy could feel the judgement from four floors above.
"Even his car looks dumb." Mike muttered, squinting down. He wasn't going to mention that his truck, parked just a few spots down the street, didn't necessarily look too great. 'It had been through a lot, okay? She's seen better days,' he would say in defense. Sure, his truck was falling apart at the seams but at least it wasn't driven by some dumb psychology major.
Mike paused his train of thought as Will scrambled past him, across the small living room - pausing to check his hair one more time in the reflection of the tv - and making his way to the front entrance.
"Make sure he has you home by 11, young man." Mike joked, poorly attempting to laugh his way out of the agonizing pinch right behind his sternum. He didn't understand why this was having such an affect on him, but he hated the useless feeling he got from being unable to control it.
"Yes, mom." Will huffed out in response as he slipped on his converse. Grabbing his key off the small hooks in the entryway, Will reached for the door before pausing. He turned back to Mike, his hand midway reaching to the doorknob.
"You'll be okay here, right? If you- if you need me to stay home, if you don't wanna be alone, I can…"
Yes I need you home please don't leave me let's watch movies all night. Mike swallowed the lump in his throat, pushed down the desperate beg for him to stay home.
"I'll be fine. Go, have fun!"
A bright, genuine smile flashed across Will's face. A moment of hesitation before he practically ran out the door.
Mike stood alone in the middle of their living room, the empty space where Will had been suddenly too empty. His chest felt hollow, like the weight of everything he'd been holding back had just sunk straight to the floor.
Time moved forward anyway, despite missing presence of his roommate and despite the crushing weight of everything he refused to think about. Before he realized it, the night had begun to slip past him. Dull and incredibly boring without his best friend.
Mike laid across the whole of the couch, knees pointed up as one arm hung lazily off the side. A small, striped bowl filled now halfway with popcorn was propped on his chest, long forgotten about. He stared at the small screen across from him, having finally settled on watching Back to the Future yet again - but Mike wasn't really watching. His mind wandered somewhere else, desperately trying to decode why the fuck he felt so awful about tonight - about Will.
He kept telling himself it was just concern, that the tight knot in his chest had nothing to do with what he was really feeling.
Will was bad at standing up for himself, at saying no, at setting boundaries. Will was bad for staying up too late, so he had to remind him to get in bed. Will was bad at remembering to drink water, so he had to wordlessly slide a glass towards him every so often. Mike was just worried Will wasn't being taken care of by this other boy, not the way that Mike can and does, that's all.
But no matter how many times he told himself that, the pit in his stomach refused to go away.
Still, he replayed the hesitant pause Will took at the door before expressing his concern for Mike being alone.
God, he wished he said yes to Will staying home.
Mike glanced over to the kitchen clock again. 11:37pm. He huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. Of course, this guy that he hadn't even spoken to hadn't followed the curfew that wasn't even serious, that he probably didn't even know about, that Mike absolutely would've followed.
He swallowed, shaking himself out of it. "Get a grip, Wheeler." He whispered.
That's when the phone rang.
He jumped, wondering if his mind had been playing tricks on him, when the corded phone hanging on the wall near the fridge rang again. Mike stared at it for a couple seconds too long, before flailing his way off the couch, just barely managing to save the popcorn bowl by tossing it on the small table in front of him.
"Hello?" he said, trying to hide the out of breath sound as he had practically rang to catch it before the third ring.
"Mike?" A voice crackled out of the receiver. Will.
For a brief second, Mike let himself feel relief. Thank God, he thought, the guy was boring and annoying and Will is totally standing him up right now.
Then, he heard a soft sniffle. Uneven breathing, too careful almost. That kicked Mike into overdrive.
"What's wrong? Hey, what happened?"
Another paused, Mike could hear as Will attempted to find the words.
"It didn't..." Will started, trailing off. "I don't feel so good. Are you busy right now?"
"I'll come get you." Mike stated plainly, no question about it. "What happened?" A silent, heavy pause. Mike could hear Will's heart beating through the phone.
"It wasn't... I was wrong. It wasn't a date, I'm sorry, I don't know why I thought..."
Mike took a sharp breath, he could feel the rage immediately coursing through his veins and his mind jumped to conclusions immediately. He was going to kill a man tonight. He was going to find this guy and make him regret every stolen glance he ever shared with Will. Mike didn't know exactly what he had done yet, but anyone who made Will sound like that deserved to face his anger full force.
"He kept just... saying stuff. I tried to...." Will stuttered, his voice cracked. Composing himself a bit, the rest of the sentence rushed out. "He didn't realize I was even gay, Mike. He said it made things weird, that he- he couldn't believe he gave the impression that he was a f- that he was like me..."
Will caught the sentence midway, always trying to lighten the blow. Despite his efforts Mike knew exactly what he was going to say. And it made him see red. He gripped the receiver tight and wondered if it was going to crack in half, realizing he was deathly silent for too long when Will started stuttering apologies.
"I'm-- I'm sorry, for bugging you, I know you said not to go and I did anyway and now I'm making you..."
"Hey," Mike cut off sharply, voice as gentle as it always is for Will (and just for Will) yet firm. "You're not making me do anything. I'm already on my way. Where are you?"
Will muttered out his directions as Mike clumsily shrugged on his green bomber jacket that he, thankfully, left strewn across the kitchen table.
"Okay, be there soon. Just hang tight."
Mike didn't even give Will a chance to respond before slamming the phone back onto the wall. In just three long strides he sprinted to the entryway, swiping his keys off the wall and leaving the empty apartment with a slam of the door.