Skwishee
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Will took a deep breath and exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling in his chest as he lay alone in the field outside the radio station. He was stretched out on the grass, with one hand on his chest, while the other was fiddling with a small blue flower he pulled from the earth. He closed his eyes and breathed in the warm afternoon air. He exhaled again, gentler this time, trying to relax as much as his body and mind would allow him to.
The wind passed through the golden grass, caressing his face, brushing through his hair as though it was trying to soothe his stormy, turbulent mind. It combed between his eyelashes, as if trying to sweep his tears away. He felt the sun kiss his skin, like it was trying so desperately to warm him before the inevitable cold of the upside-down had a chance to latch onto him.
Mike and Will share a (not-so) quiet moment in the field outside the WSQK after Will came out to everyone.
Or: Will and Mike finally talk (kinda).
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Pierre then feels the warmth in his chest burst into a raging fire, reaching for the sky, spreading across the oceans. He doesn’t mind, not at all. He kindles it in his heart, willing it to grow bigger, to burn brighter. He surrenders to it, and allows it to consume him from the inside out. If he could kneel before the flame he would. Let it be a testament of his love for the angel standing before him.
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Basically what happened during and after the AlphaTauri karaoke session in Abu Dhabi.