plsdontmakemecry
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“Dustin’s your Tammy?” And it shouldn’t bother him. Not really. But what the fuck? What does Dustin have that Mike doesn’t?
“Dustin is, without a doubt, not my Tammy.” Will hums, serene as can be. Which is pretty annoying, considering Mike’s sort of wanted to fight Dustin since the words came out of his mouth.
“Oh. You’re sure?”
“Pretty positive, yeah.” Will laughs.
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“I wanted him to be my Vickie.”
“Will—”
“I wanted him to be my Vickie. I wanted him to have this—this—this dumb epiphany where suddenly he realized he couldn’t live without me." -
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“Have you ever really liked someone? Like… really liked them? And it’s like… no matter what you do, no matter what you try… you just can’t shake them?”
Steve snorts, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, kid. Obviously. I’ve been in love with Nance for three years, and I’m still here, pining away.”
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"You're always gonna be my best friend. No one else."
Mike nods. Seems to internalize it. His mouth thins, like he's just received very serious news.
"Can I kiss you?" Mike asks.
Will tries to keep the dopey smile from his face. "You just were."
"Please." It's a whisper.
El is gone.
Will tries to figure out how to move on in New York. Mike follows him. Their apartment is haunted, not by ghosts, but by the two of them.
Or: Catastrophically traumatized boys cling to each other and accidentally figure out how to be close—too close—while moving through their grief.
Bookmarked by plsdontmakemecry
01 Jan 2026