Chapter Text
He feels like a kid again, on Christmas morning. Unable to get back to sleep.
He races downstairs, through empty hallways. There are a few soft voices coming from the kitchen, his mum and Mrs Wheeler, maybe, but other than that, the world is still quiet. Quiet until he storms through it.
‘Will!’ he calls out, as he rushes into the basement.
Two heads turn, Will’s and Jonathan’s.
Mike falters. ‘Uh…Merry Christmas.’
Jonathan squints at Mike. His eyes are barely open, and he hasn’t smoothed his hair down yet. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he says. He grabs a towel and a change of clothes, then leaves the room.
And then it’s just Mike and Will.
Just them.
Mike lets himself look at Will in a way he hasn’t in years. At the haphazard way his hair falls, strands sticking out in all directions, after a rough night’s sleep. At his sun-kissed skin, no longer pale and creamy, unblemished in a way that’s only possible in youth, but glowing and lightly weary with freckles and stress. His brows and mouth are set, almost stern, but the longer Mike takes, staring or searching for courage or just trying to find his footing, the more the corners of Will’s mouth tilt into an awkward smile. A flush tinges his cheeks pink.
He’s clearly wondering what Mike is trying to choke out. Unfortunately, so is Mike.
None of the glimpses of hope in the world, none of the promises made in unrealised visions and dreams hidden in the depths of Mike’s soul, change the fact that right now, he’s with El.
He’ll have to hurt her first. Hurt them both. But he knows there’s a chance that he can get this right. That he can manage to pull this off without losing her in the process.
He’s determined to get this right.
Which means that right now…with Will…
‘I - uh…I wanted to give you your Christmas present,’ he says, searching for purchase, for the right words to say.
‘Okay,’ Will says. He reaches up to a tuft of hair that’s falling over his forehead and pushes it aside. Mike holds his own hands carefully still, in fear of one of them shooting out unbidden to smooth that loose lock.
Will is looking at him expectantly. Mike blinks.
‘Oh,’ he says. ‘I left it upstairs.’ He plays it off with a smile, one that hopefully says ‘how silly of me to have forgotten it,’ and not ‘I had this weird vision and I woke up and I had to come and see you immediately, and I made up this lie just now about presents because you were looking at me strangely while I was seeing you properly for the first time in years.’
His only hope is that Will would never, not in a million years, be able to guess at the second option being a possibility.
‘Okay,’ Will laughs.
Mike wants to go to the creek with him this afternoon and watch him draw.
First, though, they have to go upstairs and get Will’s gift. Especially because the sketchbook Mike saw in the vision of Christmas Present is the one he’d carefully wrapped in red and gold paper a week beforehand.
‘Wait,’ he says first. He didn’t know he was going to say that, but it looks like Will did, because there isn’t a single ounce of surprise on Will’s face.
In an instant, he’s turned serious again, and he looks at Mike like he sees everything. Like he’s always been looking. It seems to terrify him.
‘Mike?’ he says softly.
Mike’s hand is on Will’s elbow; he’d put it there to stop Will from going upstairs just yet. He’d kept it there because he couldn’t take it off.
He swallows thickly. ‘We’re gonna go see El tomorrow,’ he says. Will already knows this, but he kindly doesn’t remind Mike of this fact.
‘And then?’ Will asks. His voice is as cautious as Mike’s. As though this thing between them could be scared off by any sudden movements.
Mike slides his hand down Will’s forearm. Their fingertips meet; the touch lingers.
‘I think I have to break her heart.’
Will’s gaze never wavers. ‘Why?’ he asks. It’s barely more than a whisper.
Neither of them has moved their hand away.
‘I think you already know,’ Mike says.
Will’s hand grips his like a lifeline. ‘Tell me anyway.’