Chapter Text
Exhaustion pressed down on Mike. A steady reminder of the drowsiness behind his eyes. Backpack slung across his shoulders, he adjusted the straps. The burn in his spine made it hard to move. Every step felt like a chore, something he had no say in.
Rest came sparingly on the plane. Shared headphones and a small screen. Knees pressed too close together and fingertips brushing. The only reason the first few hours felt manageable.
After Will had fallen into a deep slumber, the lights had seemed to dull as well. Boring movies were the sole reason he could power through.
Sleep hadn’t been an option, not after what happened at their gate.
An invisible line, Mike thought. One he wasn’t allowed to cross again.
Conversations hadn't been a pleasure he could have indulged in. Disturbing Will for that would have been selfish.
Once he had asked Dustin for a map of Paris. Preferably one without scribbles. His disappointment was immeasurable when he got exactly that.
An embarrassing amount of time was spent on simply looking at it. Some landmarks, some popular streets and a bridge. Alexandre the third or so. It was crossed off with a red marker. A spot Dustin apparently did not want to go to.
Mike had recognised the name of the river though.
‘Seine.’
Occasionally, he had been able to hear pages flipping a row ahead. Sometimes a suppressed chuckle or gasp followed. At least that gave him confirmation that the new comics were an enjoyable read.
Whenever teeth had bitten too harshly into his cheeks, his head turned. Light breathing and soft stirs had made the aches in his body seem trivial. How could he regret handing his comics away when the reward had been that seat?
Through the fog in his mind, the city appeared beautiful. Mythical, even. A sight for sore eyes. He slowed his steps, falling behind to admire.
Golden glows spilled from the street lamps, drawing shadows against the buildings. Even in the dark, the city looked vibrant. Colours pouring from open windows and closed stores.
The tickle of rain hummed against his exposed skin. The heat from the plane had yet to pass and the cold made for a calming sensation. Wet cobblestone murmured as they walked.
The sound of rustling paper cleared the haze in his head. They had come to a stop in an alleyway. Buildings stretched far beyond Mike’s view. It seemed almost endless. Small but not cramped. Tight but not claustrophobic.
Ears catching the faint sound of laughter, Mike’s gaze moved upward. Stars were less bright here than in Hawkins. A hand appeared before his eyes, pointing at the sky. The same black wristwatch he had was attached to it.
“Can you see it? The Big Dipper?” Hot breath touched his skin as Will whispered to him. Goosebumps travelled down his neck and Mike resisted the urge to rub at it. A soft hum escaped his lips.
Arm shifting, Will directed his attention to another constellation. It almost looked the same, just upside down. The faint memory of how they used to compare them to spoons came to mind.
“The Small Dipper.” There was a rare crack in Mike’s voice.
Tired tugged at his eyelids again, relentless and dragging. The wristwatch blinked with red lines.
1 am.
Too early, too late. Neither worked for him.
“Mhm”, Will confirmed and the hand fell from Mike’s view. The night sky looked a little less pretty.
Their shoulders were brushing, a warmth spreading from the contact. Heart thrumming faster beneath his ribs, Mike dug his nails into his palms.
If he turned his head just a bit they would be inches from each other. A soft, insistent tingle on his jaw followed the thought.
The decision was made for him instead as Will stepped forward. Closer to the group and further away from Mike. With a sluggishness only a sleepy version of himself could muster, he followed.
Light draped over his friends, illuminating their clothes in soft patches. An almost chuckle spilled from Mike’s shut mouth.
Max’s hair caught the streetlights in flashes of copper and gold. The white of Lucas’ shirt appeared creamy, soft under scrutiny. Under the orange glow, the blue of Jane’s dress turned dusky. The edges of Dustin’s curls sharpened as he flipped the map in his hand around.
It looked like a scene straight out of one of their campaigns. Front and centre stood Will, back turned to Mike. His red jacket darkened into something deeper, ember-warm and smouldering.
An itch in his fingertips urged Mike to write it down. The idea of a city just like this. Deep inside a forest filled with secrets. Elves would make a good addition, he thought.
“We’re almost there… I think”, Dustin said, voice breaking in the middle. Max groaned and Lucas rolled his eyes.
Slender fingers took the map from Dustin. A focused expression was on Will’s face as he studied the map. Even from where he stood, Mike could see the way hazel eyes narrowed. The paper dipped underneath his grip.
“I think we’re… here?”
Will’s words carried through the cool night air, drifting gentle and slow. Mike didn’t know where ‘here’ was. Only that here meant in the middle of Paris – with a guide that should not qualify as such. As his foot started tapping away at the ground, he crossed his arms.
The ache in his bones sharpened, clawing insistently at his resolve. Mind drifting and eyes closing, Mike took a deep breath. The cold filled his lungs, slowly chipping away at him.
It was difficult to form thoughts by now. Proper ones. Those that made sense and didn’t feel like exposing himself.
A hand nudged his side and Mike’s eyes flickered down in surprise. The comics in Lucas’ hand were glossy, shining in tandem with the streetlamps. “Thought you might want them back.”
They no longer felt sticky as Mike touched them. The edges were a bit crinkled. It wasn’t a conscious decision when his eyes searched around for Will. A shared glance made his heart flutter.
The comics in his grip felt less heavy before he put them in his bag. Even though they got returned in a not-so-ideal condition, the trade-off had been worth it.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” There was something in Lucas’ tone. Something Mike couldn’t quite pin-point.
They had started moving again. Along wet cobblestone murmuring under their feet. A stickiness settled down on his tongue as Mike replayed Lucas’ words in his mind.
“What do you mean?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as quiet and low as it did. The chill of the night and the burn in his muscles made it hard to focus on sense, though.
What he said seemed to be incredibly funny apparently.
Lucas snorted, hands flying up to cover his mouth. Mike could feel his eyebrows twitching and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“I was honestly surprised when you gave me your comics.” Lucas said, steps slowing down. Matching pace, Mike kept glancing at the rest of the group. They were further behind than necessary.
“I get it though. I woulda jumped at the chance to swap seats with Jane and be with Max.”
Mike choked on his spit, face flushing under the soft glow of lamps. His eyes snapped to Lucas. The beating of his heart was too loud, drumming angrily against his ribcage. The comparison twisted in his stomach, stubborn and ugly.
Did he know?
Lucas’ eyebrows creased, lips pulled into a frown. “What?”
Raindrops fell, harder and faster. They stung as they landed on Mike’s exposed arms. “I just- I thought you meant-” He swallowed, biting his lips until they burnt. “Nevermind.”
Adjusting the straps of his backpack, he turned. Feet dragging across the street as shame crept up his spine. Maybe it had been an accident and Lucas hadn't meant anything by it. Grip tightening until his knuckles turned pale, he sped up.
It wasn’t that big of a deal.
It shouldn’t be.
The lump in his throat told a different story. Every nerve ending was on fire and the rain felt like fuel on his skin. The mental fog returned, doubling in size and wrapping his brain in a cloud.
Mike was overreacting, he knew that. Lucas never insinuated anything, he didn’t mean anything by it. Lucas didn’t-
Lucas couldn’t know.
-
The walk to the Hotel remained quiet. Thoughts and feelings were battling inside his head, making it throb from the sheer volume. The returned comics in his bag seemed to weigh more with each step forward.
Cold keys were placed in his hand. Room 304. As he stared at the tag, Mike noticed the shake in his fingers. It was hard to keep the key steady in his grasp.
A hazy realisation dawned upon him. Most of the others had already started moving, leaving the lobby. Max and Jane took a turn somewhere in the hallway. They were probably sharing a room, he figured.
When Dustin had explained the room split earlier, Mike didn’t have it in him to listen. Not fully, at least. Something about three rooms and cheaper bedding.
Fingers wrapped around his wrist, adding slight pressure. Eyes drifting from 304 to his side, Mike gulped the tension down his throat. A gentle pull on his wrist forced him into motion. Will stayed quiet, leading him as though he already knew the outlet of the building.
The blood in his veins was rushing, drumming too loudly. Mike could hear it in his ears, feel it pulsing as Will’s fingers stayed on his wrist.
Their footsteps carried slow and steady, muffled by the white carpets. With the pace they were going at, it’d be easy to pull back just a little. To move his own fingers upward and rest them against Will’s palm. It’d be easy to interlace their fingers like this. His mouth dried at the thought.
Mike had been staring. Staring at where skin met skin for far too long. He ripped his gaze away, focusing on the back of Will’s head.
The bowl cut his best friend has had since always looked better than ever. It started when they turned 16. When Will finally grew into this haircut and made it his own. If he looked cute and a bit messy before, Will now was the epiphany of handsome.
‘I would have jumped at the chance-’
Mike stopped in his tracks, hand falling out of Will’s grasp from the sudden change in motion.
If Lucas knew– who else did?
Did Will know?
No, that wasn’t possible. If Will knew, he and Mike wouldn’t be friends anymore.
Narrowing his eyes, Mike barely registered as Will grabbed him by the shoulders.
There was this burn – it ran through his brain, smouldering hot as though it was on fire. Like a snake it moved through every corner and edge, pressing sharply against his scalp from the inside. It felt like a fever, a nasty one.
“Mike?” Will’s voice sounded muffled through the smoke.
The burn spread, tainting his cheeks and neck in its wake. God, he must look so stupid right now. The thrumming in his ears became louder.
Gritting his teeth, he forced a half-truth through his lips.
“Just tired. I’m fine.”
Hands squeezed his shoulders before letting go. A flash of hurt crossed Will’s face before he nodded, jaw tightening.
The inside of his cheek ached as he bit into it. In a way, it was comforting. Knowing that Will didn’t have a hard time dissecting his words into truths and lies.
Some lies slipped through his mouth easier than others. Some were harder to detect. Mike didn’t want to be a good liar. But he would gladly become one if it meant protecting their friendship.
They stopped in front of a door that looked no different from the others. White paint and chipped around the edges.
It took Mike four tries until he managed to insert the key. The lock clicked open, sharp in the quiet hallway.
The faint smell of detergent and something floral hit his nose. Too clean, too neat. Everything inside their room was just like the rest of the hotel. White bedsheets tucked too tightly on both beds. A beige carpet stretching across the entire room.
With slouched shoulders, Mike dropped his backpack on the edge of the closest bed. Every muscle screamed at him, begging for collapse.
The mattress dipped underneath his sudden weight. A groan escaped his throat, low and deep. All tension melted off his spine and even his bones felt buttery.
“This is heaven”, he mumbled, nuzzling his face further into the white pillows. A warm chuckle cut through the air and Mike couldn’t help but smile.
It was supposed to be awkward, right?
A shiver ran through him. He could feel Will’s eyes on him. Watching, waiting. Kicking his shoes off his feet and the bed, Mike turned to face Will.
Should he say something?
The other was sitting cross-legged on the bed, sketchbook and pencil in hand. Orange glows from the nightlamp spilled onto Will’s face and body. As his heart skipped a beat, Mike once more confirmed how beautiful Will really was.
The sound of pen against paper carried through. Every so often, Will’s eyes found his own. Almost as though he was studying Mike. Head tilted, a crease in his eyebrows before Will returned his attention to his drawing.
Drowsiness came in waves, washing over Mike with every passing moment. With eyelids half open, he barely managed to force out a coherent sentence.
“What are you drawing?”
There was a long pause and he wasn’t sure if his question had been heard in the first place. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him and Mike had never said anything to begin with?
Pen stopping, Will pressed the book just a bit closer to his chest. Hazel eyes avoiding his own, Mike could see the way Will started biting his lips. What he wouldn’t do for a taste.
His best friend shrugged as he rubbed his neck. “Just… Paris. I guess?”
“Oh.”
It had slipped through his mouth before he could stop himself. Part of him thought – hoped, that perhaps Will had been drawing him.
God, he prayed Will couldn’t hear the disappointed undertone in his voice.
“Okay. Cool.” He squeezed the words out. Too tired. A hollowness drifted through him, settling somewhere between ribs and lungs.
A beat passed before Will hummed in response. The yellow pencil moved gently across the pages once more.
Paris, huh?
The city was magical and Mike didn’t fault Will for capturing it on paper. Perhaps they could see it together, side by side. Every pretty landscape caught by Will and reimagined by Mike. It would make for a really nice story, he figured.
“We should-” A yawn slipped through Mike, cutting himself off. “Explore together. Paris.”
As his eyes drifted shut, it became increasingly hard to form thoughts. Breath evening out, Mike pressed himself closer into the pillows.
“Just you and me”, Mike said before sleep finally wrapped around him.
-
The café felt private, intimate almost as Mike stepped through the open doors. The space was small, limited in a way that made his chest tighten.
People that were as much tourist as he was sat on the golden accented seats. Soft light spilled from the ceiling, drowning the café in warmth.
Chairs scraped against the white tiles as they picked a corner table. There was a dull ache behind his eyes and it made it hard to even think. Think of anything but yesterday. Words kept looping in his mind – endlessly, repeatedly. Mike swallowed down a groan.
The menu served as a brief distraction. Both French and English descriptions were written down. Another reminder that this place would probably take more money from their pockets than necessary.
Even as he skimmed over the drinks and dishes his focus remained elsewhere.
“Just you and me.”
The whispered words made his stomach twist. As his grip tightened, the menu card dipped slightly. Eyes bore into the side of his head and Mike really did not need to look up to know who it was.
Ever since this morning, Will kept staring at him as though he could figure Mike out. See past everything hidden below the surface. Every little thought and feeling never to be said out loud.
Sleep hadn’t dulled the memory of what slipped through his lips yesterday night. It sharpened it instead, twisting inside his chest until it became hard to breathe.
The menu in his grasp crinkled, plastic cracking in response. Blinking, he put it back on the table. Emotions be damned, Mike was not about to pay extra for destruction of property.
Keeping his gaze fixated on the table might have been the wrong idea. A map was placed on it, sudden and aggressive. He cringed at how loud it was.
Little blue and red lines were drawn on it, connecting different spots together. It was upside down from where Mike’s seat was, the words more like a child’s scribbles than anything legible.
A hand followed, fingers pointing at a blue circle.
“Alright. Time for our travel operations, people!” Dustin’s enthusiastic tone carried but Mike’s interest lay with the white tablecloth.
Blue and yellow flowers were stitched on it, intertwining with each other. There was something written too.
“Je crois que je t’aime.”
Jaw set tight, Mike repeated the phrase in his head. Totally butchered, of course. It sounded pretty even if he didn’t know its meaning.
“What would you like to order?” A voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
The waitress had a smile on her lips as she eyed each and every one of them. Her English was good, better than Mike had expected. There was a natural French accent woven into her words.
From the corner of his eyes, Will was shifting in his seat. Menu card discarded and chewing on his lips. An ache travelled through Mike’s ribs, settling just below his lungs. He should be comforting Will instead of whatever he was doing right now.
The orders of his friends flew over his head. Somebody wanted tea, someone else asked for water. And a certain, curly haired boy asked for a croissant in the best French Mike has ever heard.
Since when did Dustin even speak languages other than English?
His own voice was raspy, underused as he ordered coffee. Black and simple. Anything to wake him up and stop the thoughts from circling back. Back to how exposed his skin felt every time he caught Lucas side eyeing him.
The waitress scribbled away at her leathery order pad, smile never wavering. She seemed satisfied as she spun on her heels and left.
“First up”, Dustin’s voice cut through the air, finger tapping the map. “We’ll get a night train from here to Italy.” Ring scraping lightly against the paper, Dustin moved his finger along a blue line.
“Then, we’ll get a van and drive to Austria. Scenic route.” The last part came more as a whisper, something Mike was expected to get excited about. He didn’t.
Mind wandering back to the tablecloth, he gently traced the flowers. Blue and yellow made for a good combination. It felt soft to the touch and somewhere in the back of his head Mike wondered if he could buy it.
Mentions of mountains and museums reached his ears.
A cup was put in front of him. Glass lightly clattered against the table, muted by the pretty white cloth. Placing his hands around the cup, he almost flinched. It was hot to the touch and burnt against his palms.
A whisper of steam rose from the coffee, curling in lazy spirals. The heat was almost gentle, caressing his face and tickling his nose. Smiling faintly he relaxed his shoulders in response.
“Next stop would be Amsterdam!”
Absentmindedly tracing the rim of his cup, Mike pretended to listen as Dustin kept going. Something about rainy days and crazy brownies.
It felt risky as his eyes flickered up. Max said something between sips and Lucas laughed in response. A knot formed in his throat as Lucas adjusted his sleeve. Mike let his gaze drift away.
Dustin’s cap kept his locks from spilling onto his face. A bright grin covered his entire face as he talked about Britain. Last stop?
“Wishes or requests for something you guys wanna see?” Fingers tapped against the map as Dustin expectantly waited for a response. The answer came in shrugs and shaken heads.
Mike allowed himself to glance further.
Jane took a bite from her waffles and he had to suppress a chuckle. She had probably looked for Eggos on the menu and settled for the next best thing. Not even a new country could keep her away from her favourite thing in the world.
Next to her sat Will and everything inside of Mike simply ached.
His best friend seemed tired, exhausted even. There were dark blue circles underneath his eyes and red blotched on his lips. Shoulders slumped, the boy leaned his head against Jane’s shoulder. Hazel eyes stared off into the distance.
Swallowing, his fingers twitched uselessly against his cup. He wanted to reach out. To make sure Will was okay. A buzz danced on his skin at the thought.
“I woulda jumped at the chance to swap-”
Mike kept his palms rested against his cup.
-
The line they were staying in stretched too far. Chatter cluttered the air from all sides, pressing into Mike’s head like a drill.
It felt claustrophobic here. There was no way to escape – no way to move without bumping into somebody else.
A sigh rippled through the group as Mike checked his wristwatch again. They had been standing here for almost an hour. Long enough for his excitement to wear thin. And he wasn’t the only one. Every few minutes he could hear someone groan.
Being tall had its advantages, such as being able to look over the crowd and see just how much further they are behind. Still, Mike had to stand on his tippy toes to even see something that resembled the end of the line.
A backpack clipped his side, pushing him a step to the left. Against Will’s shoulder. Notes of rosemary and lavender hit his nose. On the plane there was a hint of vanilla which seemed to be missing now.
A new cologne, perhaps?
Even as he tried to move and give Will his space back, it was no use. An elbow pushed against his spine as he tried.
Opting to save his back from further assault, Mike stayed where he was.
Warmth spread through his chest as their fingers brushed.
It was a simple thing, really. Mike shouldn’t be making such a fuss about it. So what if their pinkies were touching?
Heart thrumming faster, he couldn’t stop his hand from twitching.
“Why can’t we just go anywhere else?” Max had been complaining for a while now, understandably so.
Beside him, he noted how Will seemed to almost shrink in on himself. It left a bitter taste on Mike’s tongue.
Turning, he barely mustered to swallow down the scowl on his face.
“Yeah, but the Luvra has the best art pieces!” Voice pitching, Mike threw his free arm in the air.
Will had been the one to recommend that museum. And if Will wanted to go there, then they would go there. Even if he had to drag Max through the line.
A hand grabbed his arm, shaking with tremor. Will was hunched over, holding his stomach as he laughed out loud. A blush spread on Mike’s face as he realised it was most likely because of something he said. And because Will looked incredibly beautiful with flushed cheeks.
“It’s Louvre, Mike.” There was a certain softness in Will’s tone as he looked up at Mike.
The rest of his friends were laughing now too, patting his shoulder every now and again. But his mind refused to pay them any mind.
Hazel, glassy eyes kept their focus solely on him and his breath hitched in response. A grin slipped onto his lips before Mike could think about it. There were smile lines on Will’s face, soft and hardly noticeable if you didn’t look hard enough.
The cute mole above Will’s lips had become a tad darker over the years. Back when they were younger it was barely there. And when the sun hit it just right, it almost seemed as though light enjoyed cradling it.
Time was passing slowly – or maybe not. Mike didn’t know. All his attention was on his best friend. The way their eyes were locked onto each other and the way the sun reflected in the green of Will’s eyes.
Music from the streets reached his ears, soft and gentle. A violin playing something slow and tender. For a second, Mike thought his mind was playing tricks on him. Perhaps his imagination wanted to accompany this moment with tunes.
That was until Will’s gaze drifted behind him and Mike followed. There stood a woman with a dark brown violin in her hands, a worn case resting at her feet.
Her eyes were closed as she strung the bow across the strings. The way she played sounded almost delicate. Mike didn’t recognise the song.
Will’s hand was still placed on his arm, tightening around Mike’s sleeve as the woman played a higher note. Eyes flickering back, he noted how Will was swaying with the music.
There was something gentle in Will’s face. Something that made Mike wish he was an artist as well. To capture expressions like these forever.
As he leaned down, their shoulders brushed again. “We’re still gonna explore Paris together, right?”, he whispered, low enough for only Will to hear. The grip on his sleeve tightened.
The others weren’t supposed to notice, and he really hoped they didn’t.
The heartbeat in Mike’s ears drummed louder as he decided to lean further. Just a little bit closer. Almost enough for his lips to touch Will’s ear. “There’s someplace I wanna go with you.”
Without touching he could feel his own pulse. A fast thrum going through his body after the words left his lips.
Had he gone too far?
Was it too obvious?
It was a place that would feel too loud if all of them went. It had to be just Will and him.
Right?
Will’s eyes stayed glued to the ground. Anywhere but Mike. An emptiness settled on his shoulders, weighing him down. He crossed a line again, didn’t he?
Then – almost too quick for him to catch – Will nodded and Mike felt like he could breathe again. Fingers curled around his sleeve and something sweet blossomed inside of him.
A quiet “Yeah” slipped through Will’s lips.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Mike really did have to hold back. Otherwise, he might have lifted Will’s face by his chin, just to look at him. To see what expression his best friend was wearing now.
The music faltered, thinning into the noise of the streets. Someone bumped into Mike again and Will’s hand slipped in the process. But the warmth lingered, pulsing lightly on his skin.
-
Inside the Louvre, everything blurred together. People, voices, faces bled into each other. It all had the same tone and shape regardless of where Mike looked.
At some point, Lucas and Dustin bumped into a glass showcase. They were ‘escorted’ out by security. The rest of them would have been thrown out if they hadn’t pretended to not even know Lucas and Dustin.
Max made it her mission to judge the people in the paintings. Together, her and Mike would theorise what their lives might have been like. Usually with not so kind and respectful wording.
Even inside such a vibrant place, his eyes kept finding Will. His best friend and Jane moved like a team, studying the paintings. Or perhaps Will was doing the studying and Jane simply admired. Either sounded plausible.
Every so often Mike saw the leathery sketchbook again. Will stopped at random paintings, pencil already moving. And during those moments, Mike took his time theorising why the person in the painting looked like failed life choices.
The air felt different as they stepped outside. A summer chill blew through his hair, messing it up more than it had to. Shades of orange, red and pink dusted the sky.
Squinting his eyes, Mike saw Dustin and Lucas sitting somewhere on a bank. A grin spread across his face. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he yelled their names.
It didn’t take long until the group was reunited. What did take a while however, was Dustin spinning tales of their supposed ‘Parisian adventures’ which resulted in them getting ice cream. In the corner of his mind, doubt made itself present. Apparently he wasn’t the only one either.
Max raised her eyebrow as she took Lucas’ ice cream.
“Let me get this straight. You-” she pointed, rather judgingly, at Dustin, “wanted to take a picture with a pigeon-”
“A fat pigeon!” Lucas’ cut her off, slowly stretching apart his hands.
Eyes drifting towards Will, a chuckle bubbled up Mike’s throat. His best friend rolled his eyes, smirk unmistakable on parted lips.
“And then the pigeon called an army of… more pigeons?” Jane asked, tilting her head. Her eyebrows were creased and Mike really couldn’t fault her for it.
Dustin waved around with vigour, almost slapping Mike across the face.
One day, Mike would get back at him for all the assassination attempts.
“Yeah, exactly! And then we were chased for like, 10 minutes. Until we dodged into a grocery store. That’s where we got the ice cream from!” With a toothy grin, the boy finished his story.
Right. Totally.
Crossing his arms, Mike stared at his friends.
No one said a word. The occasional awkward cough from some tourist who definitely overheard them filling the silence.
Mouth agape, Lucas gestured around before placing his hands on Max’s shoulders. “We’re serious! Why don’t you believe us?” There was something dangerously close to a whine in his tone.
“Friends. Don’t. Lie.” Dustin said with such clarity it sent a shiver through Mike’s spine. Swallowing, he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. The ground felt rough even under his shoes.
Right. Real friends – good friends – didn’t lie. Mike hasn’t been a very good friend lately.
Thankfully, he wasn’t able to dwell on that thought for long. The sun was setting further, yellow being swallowed by the dark blue of the sky.
A groan and jab from Max towards Lucas later and someone decided they’d be going back to the hotel. He hadn’t paid attention. Streetlamps came back to life, golden light illuminating their pathways.
A buzz sparked through his neck. Everyone was already in motion, shoes dragging along the cobblestone towards the hotel. Now was the perfect time, wasn’t it?
Biting his lower lip until it burnt, he reached out.
Fingers clasping around Will’s wrist, Mike stopped him from going further. It didn’t fly past him how his best friend’s breath hitched at the contact. From the chill of the breeze or the sudden contact, Mike wasn’t sure.
Will didn’t move away. Instead, his head was tilted and hazel eyes looked at Mike with furrowed brows and –
God, Will looked cute like that.
Where skin met skin came a tingling sensation, dancing along Mike’s palm.
“Do you-” Words breaking, he coughed once, tightening his grip.
This was silly. Really, really silly.
In fact, it was absolutely ridiculous!
They were best friends, for fucks sake. Had been for years. God forbid Mike wanted to spend some private time with Will.
No one would suspect anything because it was a completely normal thing to do. He should just grow up, get a grip and finally act like a proper best friend.
Releasing a shaky breath, Mike gave Will a gentle pull. Soft enough to allow the other to pull away. Will didn’t.
Now or never.
“You guys go ahead! We’ll check something out!” Mike said, rushed and loud enough for their friends to hear. One person shrugged, another waved and he took that as sign enough to leave.
The city felt calm around them, peaceful. Cobblestone murmured underneath their feet. Heat flushed his face and Mike was incredibly grateful to be walking in front.
Quiet stretched between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind that wrapped Mike’s thoughts in a fuzzy blanket. The one that settled over his body after a 10 hour long D&D campaign.
Their footsteps synced after crossing the second street. Lamps became more frequent, blurring the colours of the city with shades of gold. They passed a sign saying ‘Pont Alexandre III’.
There was a white bridge in his view and it seemed as though a lot of people were on it already. Slowing down, he considered their options.
They were here to see the Seine and the city surrounding it. It was just a few people. Just some more clutter in a space meant for… Will and Mike. He swallowed.
With a pounding heart, Mike led Will down a flight of stairs. Away from the bridge, closer to the Seine. The riverbank was mostly empty – save for the occasional jogger for some godforsaken reason.
The sounds of rushing water grew louder as they stopped. It was a breath taking sight to see. Orange glows reflected on the river, gently moving in sync with the flow.
There were some small boats too, riding along with fairy lights hovering over them. At least that’s what it looked like.
Some magical city Mike has stumbled into, wasn’t it?
There was a gentle pull by his fingers. Eyes flickering down, he felt heat crawl all over his neck and ears again. As if burnt, Mike let go of Will’s wrist.
“Sorry, I –” Voice wavering, he couldn’t really think of an excuse.
All the way here his heart and head were too focused on everything else to notice. The implications, the potential looks.
Mike couldn’t really say that, could he?
Tinted in soft glows, his best friend almost seemed to be blushing as well. A tinge of pink dusted Will’s cheeks as he rubbed his wrist. The spot Mike had been holding onto too tightly. A knot formed in his throat.
“No it’s - It’s okay. I didn’t…” Will trailed off, hazel eyes focused on something behind Mike.
“I didn’t mind.”
Something inside of Mike cracked. He could feel the unsteady beat of his heart, taste the desire on his tongue.
For a moment he considered it. That perhaps he could reach out again. His fingers twitched at the thought. The pockets of his jacket felt cold as he shoved his hands inside.
Eyes flickering towards the Seine, a nervous chuckle left him. Words felt borderline foreign as he tried to think. Think of anything to say.
An explanation as to what they were doing here, perhaps? Will must be wondering about that.
“It’s really beautiful.” The softness in Will’s tone caught him off guard.
Glancing back to his best friend, Mike’s breath caught. The corners of Will’s lips were lifted as the boy stared at the river. Lights bathed him in a glow Mike thought only fiction was capable of doing.
An involuntary smile appeared on Mike’s face, brighter with each second his eyes lingered on Will.
“Yeah. Yeah, it really is.” He replied, focus never leaving the brown strands of hair that fell into Will’s face.
Letting his gaze drift, he saw how Will was shifting on his feet. They’d been doing nothing but walk and stand all day. There was an ache in his calves and soles.
The stone along the riverbank looked worn smooth. Without thinking too hard, Mike stepped closer to the edge and sat. The water almost reached his shoes and he wondered if he should dip his toes in.
The warmth radiating off Will was the first thing Mike felt. Their shoulders brushed as the other sat. The rush of water filtered the noise of the city in a calm sense.
“I was thinking..”, Mike started, placing his hands behind him on the stone. “Maybe we could make our own Paris. In the next campaign.” Even though they were simple, the words felt silly on his lips.
A breathless chuckle carried from his left, Will’s knee bumping his own in the process.
“Sounds good. I’ll be the illustrator, I take it?” Something teasing tinged the edge of Will’s voice and Mike let a smirk grow.
“As always, Will the Wise.” With flourish, Mike bowed slightly and tipped his imaginary hat.
Silence dipped into the space they shared. A rustle accompanied the rush of the river. From the corner of his eye, Mike saw the leathery sketchbook again.
As Will opened it, his breath hitched. The other flipped through the pages – too fast for Mike to actually catch anything.
Blue pencil moving along an empty page allowed something to bloom inside of Mike’s chest. It was nice to see the sketchbook again from up close. Almost as though Mike was finally allowed back into Will’s life again.
“I thought about a little village with elves in the woods.” Mike said, legs swinging back and forth.
The scratching of pencil against paper stopped for a beat before Will hummed in reply.
“Maybe a side quest about a star-crossed romance and the hag of the east making a return”, Mike joked. The last part was said in a mocking voice – the one he used during their campaigns.
Droplets of water splashed against his shoes. Lips tugging upward, he allowed himself another glance.
Will rolled his eyes but the smile on his face gave Mike some long overdue confidence. Leaning in, he nudged Will’s shoulder.
“What? You guys keep complaining but I know you secretly love fighting her”, he said, voice taking on a teasing edge. Laughter filled his ears.
“No, Mike. She’s awful!” Will bumped his knee against Mike’s. Hazel eyes found his own.
Shaking his head, Mike leaned further in, pressing their sides together.
Was it… too much?
He kept his eyes glued to the sketchbook.
Should he move?
Will’s shoulders slumped slightly, relaxing against Mike. The fine lines on the page were already taking shape. The outline of the other riverbank and a few buildings were visible. Heartbeat echoing in his ears, he swallowed.
Neither of them moved. Mike wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.
Their thighs were touching and he really tried not to let his nerves get the better of him. Will’s hair almost tickled his nose and Mike could smell a note of vanilla. The same shampoo Will had been using for years.
Every so often Will paused, erased a line or two just to perfect it. That was something Mike had always admired about his best friend. The patience Will had to create artwork until it was just the way he wanted it to be.
As Will began the shading process, something bubbled up inside of Mike.
It wasn’t fully done, yet the way the water was flowing and the spilling lights made his heart flutter. Will would see beauty in things Mike hadn’t even spared a thought about.
“It’s really good”, he murmured before he could think about it.
Will’s hand halted, pencil barely touching the page. An ache bloomed on Mike’s tongue as he bit into it.
That was until more weight pressed against him. Will’s arm lightly overlapped with Mike’s as he leaned further in.
“Thanks”, came the mumbled response.
Calm settled inside of him as Will resumed his drawing. Slowly, gently, the lines began to connect. The shading brought forth depth and eventually it came to a close.
The air around them felt colder by now. Sun long gone, Mike checked his wristwatch. It was almost midnight and tomorrow they were supposed to start packing and leaving for… whatever country was next.
With a sigh and a lot more disappointment than he’d admit, Mike got off the worn stone.
“Ready to head back?”, his question came quiet, loud enough for only Will to hear.
With a grin, his best friend placed his hand in Mike’s. A spark buzzed through him at the contact and part of him never wanted this moment to end.
Pulling Will up to his feet, Mike swallowed before letting go of the other’s hand. The warmth lingered even as the feeling faded.