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The Losers filed out of the bus miserably, shivering under their coats and tugging their bags along behind them. The snow had picked up remarkably in the last hour or so, and their coach was unable to continue through the storm that was inevitably about to hit. The teenagers crowded in a misshapen circle as their teachers waited for them all to dismount the bus.
“As you might have guessed, we’ve stopped because the snow is making it impossible to continue driving,” Their history teacher told them, teeth chattering slightly as she spoke, “So we’re going to have to spend the night in a motel before we can get back on the road.”
A series of groans emitted from the group, which their teacher pointedly ignored. Stan felt his heart begin to pound. Motels were dirty and messy, and it went against his every instinct to sleep in a bed that was once occupied by a stranger.
“Everyone pick a partner-of the same gender-“ Their teacher cautioned, eyeing Richie and Beverly as they immediately linked their arms together, “And collect a key from Mr Williams. We’ll be getting back on the bus at 9 am sharp, so be up and ready to go.”
Richie and Bev immediately approached their already disgruntled looking teacher and began arguing with points such as, “But I’m gay! I don’t even want what she’s got going on!” (He was bisexual, but who was she to know?), and “Gender is a social construct, Mrs Lee, I think you’ll find-“. It was safe to say their appeal was unsuccessful.
Stan saw Beverly give the rest of them a longing look before splitting off with one of the girls from her english class. “Looks like it’s you and me, Spaghetti Man!” Richie proclaimed joyously, putting an arm around Eddie and saluting the rest of the Losers with their room key. As they walked away, Stan could hear Eddie ranting about bed bugs and black lights.
“Wanna room together?” Mike’s voice came from Stan’s left, kind and soft. Stan saw Ben and Bill taking off in the direction of their own room and swallowed. Shit.
“I-Yeah, of course. Let’s go.”
Stan had been crushing on Mike low-key since he’d joined their group of friends in freshman year. Mike was strong, and brave and always pulled the rest of them in line. But at the same time, he was the kindest person Stan had ever met, and his smile could turn anyones bad day into a good one. He was an enigma of a boy, and Stan was smitten.
They trudged to their room, number 137, Mike unlocking their door and holding it open for Stan to step in first. He fumbled for the light switch and flicked it on, bathing the room in artificial white light.
The carpet was a strange grey-blue colour, matching the old curtains. There were two twin sized beds with outdated comforters, a tiny television, and a door no doubt leading to a bathroom. Stan felt his skin prickle at the crooked painting on the far wall and the uneven position of the pillows on the beds.
Mike, sensing his unease, clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You pick a bed, I’m gonna go shower.” He sat his bag down and made his way into the bathroom, giving Stan a warm smile before he did.
Stan chose the bed on the left, and immediately stripped down the sheets to remake it. Hospital corners, even amount of comforter on each side, pillows stacked neatly. He adjusted the painting on the wall and pushed Mike’s bed slightly to the right so that there were exactly two large steps between them. Afterwards he sat perched on the edge of the bed, playing around on his phone while he waited for Mike to get out of the shower. His phone buzzed with a text.
Bev 8:42
who did u end up w/?
Stan 8:42
Mike.
Bev 8:44
;)
Stan rolled his eyes and didn’t dignify that with a response. He was able to keep his cool for one night. Their group had sleepovers almost ever week and they swam half naked at the quarry together all the time. They were so close, this shouldn’t be an issue, right?
Wrong.
Mike emerged from the tiny bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and his body glistening with water droplets. His body was lean from all the farm work he did, and Stan felt his mouth go dry at the sight of him.
“Sorry, forgot my clothes.” Mike told him, scooping up his bag and returning to the bathroom. Stan let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He was so fucked.
He didn’t even know if Mike liked boys. Stan came out as gay to the Losers only a year earlier, and was met with immense amounts of support from them all. As time went by, Richie, Eddie and Bev all came out as well, and Mike had always been nothing but tolerant towards them all.
Even if it turned out he did like boys, that didn’t mean he liked Stan.
This was bullshit. He was agonising over one of his best friends like he was some sort of Ben, or Richie. He wouldn’t become Richie. He refused.
Stan passed by Mike to take his own shower without saying a word, locking the door behind him and forcing himself to take deep, steadying breaths. It’s fine, he told himself, It’s just Mike.
Stan noticed that Mike had left the tiny motel shampoo, conditioner and soap sitting neatly and perfectly spaced apart on the bathroom counter. He’d hung his towel up leaving it the same length on both sides, and left Stan’s towel folded tidily on the hamper. Stan felt his chest warm at his friends consideration.
Stan took a quick shower, already feeling to beginnings of sleep pulling at his eyes. The other Losers had all slept at some point during their bus trip, but Stan’s anxiety hadn’t allowed him such luxury and he was beginning to feel it.
Stan tried to mask a yawn as he packed his clothes away later, but Mike caught it. He set down the book he was reading and reached over to switch off his lamp, leaving only the one beside Stan’s bed on. Stan saw that he had fished out extra blankets for the both of them from the motel closet.
Mike didn’t say anything when Stan went to check their door, locking and unlocking it a total of seven times before making his way to bed, satisfied. He reluctantly switched off his own lamp. Stan normally hated sleeping in the complete dark, but having Mike there with him eased his dread slightly. He heard the other boy shuffle around in his sheets before settling.
“G’night,” He said, voice soft and raspy from fatigue.
“Goodnight, Mike.”
Stan tried his best to sleep, he really did. But it was freezing. A quick check of the weather app on his phone told him it was 19°F where they had stopped overnight, somewhere around Boston. Stan’s entire body was shaking, despite being covered head to toe in clothing and blankets. He clenched his jaw desperately in an attempt to not let his teeth chatter loudly and did his best to think about anything else besides how cold he was in that moment. He heard Mike shift around in his own bed.
“Stan?” He mumbled, “You cold?”
Stan sniffed from where his face was buried under the comforter. “A little.”
He heard Mike get out of his bed, and the next thing he knew an extra blanket was being draped on top of him.
“Mike, you don’t have to-“
“It’s fine, Stan. We don’t need you getting hypothermia.” He said getting back into his own bed. If he wasn’t so cold, Stan’s cheeks would have flushed.
“Thank you.”
“No problem, Stanley.” And that was the end of the conversation.
Almost an hour had passed, and Stan knew from periodically checking his phone that it was nearing close to midnight. He was curled up as tight as his body would allow him, and his ribs hurt from shivering so badly. Stan’s jaw ached and his body was wracking unforgivingly, and he’d long given up on the idea of sleep. He’d stopped being able to hide the sound of his teeth chattering altogether and he hoped it wouldn’t wake Mike up.
Just as Stan had surrendered himself to a cold, miserable night, he heard Mike mutter “That’s it,” from beside him and fling himself out of bed. Suddenly, his mountain of blankets were heaved off of him, wincing as the icy air made contact with his skin. He looked up at Mike questioningly, but could barely see anything in the dark.
“You’re getting in my bed,” Mike told him, matter of fact, and in an instant was hoisting Stan into his arms and depositing him onto his own mattress. It happened so quickly but Stan couldn’t help but feel, like, super hot and bothered by the fact that Mike had just picked him up and put him in his bed. He’d totally never fantasised about that before. Totally.
“Um-“ Was all Stan could respond with as Mike crawled in to the tiny twin size bed beside him, pulling the blankets up over both of them. He laid down facing Stan and after a moment of contemplation, pulled Stan closer to him by his waist. They were now pressed together from head to toe, Mike’s ankles linked with Stan’s and his arms around his torso. Stan was shaking now for an entirely different reason.
Mike was so warm. He was like a walking space heater, always emitting light and sun and heat. As Stan tucked his head into the crook of Mike’s neck and placed his hands on his chest, he felt his body start to relax. He’d cuddled with Mike before, he’d cuddled with all his friends before, but this was different. He knew he must have still been kind of tense when Mike began to rub comforting circles into his shoulder blades.
“Is this okay? I couldn’t sleep with all that teeth rattling.” Mike whispered, jokingly. Stan nodded against his neck.
“Y-Yeah, it’s okay. It’s really okay, it’s- yeah. Sorry. Thanks.”
Mike chuckled, and pressed a hesitant kiss to Stan’s curls, lingering there for a second. Stan though his heart might actually beat of out his chest.
“Night, Stanley.”
Stan allowed himself a second to comprehend the last few minutes and melted into Mike’s body, content. He smiled to himself. “Night, Mikey.”