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Mike is interested in a lot of things. Most people say he has a small brain, but that just isn’t the case at all. It’s big, it’s just filled to the absolute brim with as many facts he can carry about his interests. Like, for example, D&D. And along with D&D, an abundance of knowledge about every single possible character in the game, their strengths, weaknesses and powers. Mike is able to tell you the entire lore and storyline of Vecna and Kas but absolutely unable to tell you the answer of 5 multiplied by 7 if not given a calculator or about 10 minutes to finger-count.
With many interests comes a need to learn, and sure, Mike could just Google things, but what's the fun in that? He has a way better, and more ‘intelligent’ way to obtain his affluence of knowledge. Mike could totally take the lazy route, searching on the internet to scratch his itch for needing to know every possible thing about a certain topic, but 1.) Mike likes to own physical copies, and 2.) The clerk at the bookstore is absolutely adorable and he’s stared at him long enough to acquire nearly enough knowledge about him to give his fixations a run for their money.
A downside to having your brain packed with unnecessary knowledge of niche topics is not having enough space to store your emotional capacity and social awareness. Sure, that’s put him in a few awkward positions more than enough times, like the time where he didn’t realize a girl was flirting with him for the past 20 minutes until she tried to kiss him, causing him to duck his head backwards and into a wall in an attempt to dodge it. In his defense, he thought they were just talking about D&D. How was he supposed to know she was only nodding and humming along to get with him?
And that’s what leads Mike here now, entering the bookstore with his ratty old Converse squeaking against its freshly cleaned tile floors for the second time in the past three days.
Walking up to the front desk, the clerk, Will , as Mike has learnt, tilts his head up from its position faced downwards towards a book, The Name of the Wind , Mike reads.
As he previously mentioned, he’s learnt quite a lot about the boy. Such as, but not limited to, the way he fiddles with his hair when he reads, the fact he only reads fantasy novels (Magic, mostly), how his face looks when he's pleased about something, and the way he perks up ever so slightly when he sees Mike enter the store.
Will’s eyes light up ever so slightly, leaning up from his hunched over position on the desk chair into a more presentable position. “You’re back fast,” he notes, placing a bookmark into the book he’s holding and closing it. “It usually takes you around three or four days to finish your rents.”
Mike forgot to mention, he’s been going to this bookstore for the past month and a half, and he’s happy to report that he and Will seem to be friends rather than just clerk and customer! They have a routine of sorts, Mike walks in and asks for some obscene topic of book, Will checks if they have it (which they usually do) without further question, Mike explains himself anyways, and Will sits and listens until a customer inevitably interrupts them and Mike leaves.
“I am!” Mike acknowledged. “I already knew almost everything in the last book I rented. Who would have thought a book on the science of fantasy magic would be so short?” he questioned.
Will let out a soft laugh. “Of course you already knew everything, you dork. You’ve read nearly every fantasy book in our store. ‘Gonna run out soon like we did with the D&D books.” he jokes.
“I hope you don’t.” Mike frowns lightly at the thought. “You running out means I’ll have to go to a different bookstore and God knows I'm too lazy for that.”
“Well, I wouldn't want you to go to a different store. I look forward to our talks.” Will smiles. “What’re you looking for today?”
He hears the question but his brain is still stuck on the smile Will gave him while saying he enjoys his rambles. Maybe he’s reading into it too much.
Mike hums in thought, rubbing his hands together lightly before diving into the topic he feels like reading today. “Fantasy, but make it horror. And with magic.”
“My expertise. Allow me to introduce you to the world of The Changeling by Victor LaValle.” Will grins, walking around the counter and grabbing Mike’s hand, dragging him to the fantasy section. Mike fights off the urge to super-glue his and Will’s hands together so they’ll never have to let go, because Mike hates a lot of feelings, like ceramic, or wool sweaters, but one feeling he will never get sick of is Will’s soft yet calloused hands in his.
After finding the book, he and Will sit in the front of the library where the couch and bean bags are located. Will fires off into a ramble about the book's plot, and while usually Mike would rather die than listen to somebody talk for this long with no break, when it comes to Will he would gladly listen to him explain mathematics and still enjoy it. Just not as much.
He admires Will’s profile, the depth of his cupid's bow or the mole just above his lip and to the side of his nose catching his attention almost as much as the shines in his honey eyes due to the artificial lights shining down from above them. Mike thinks the light halos around him perfectly.
He refocuses his attention onto Will’s words, because Mike knows that he himself hates talking when nobody's listening, and he would hate to upset Will.
“You like magic a lot, don’t you?” Mike questions once Will’s rant ends, partially because it’s something he genuinely does notice, and partially because he wants to know as much as he can about the smalltown shop clerk. Not in a weird way, he just likes Will a lot, and when he likes something he does everything he can to understand it.
Will smiles. “Yeah, I really do.”
“You’d make a good cleric. They’re deemed worthy by gods and are skilled with divine magic. They also are one of the most important roles in the game!” Mike chooses to leave out the fact that they work perfectly together with Paladins, Mike’s class, if done correctly.
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
Mike doesn’t know if he’s just hallucinating it out of pure want, but he swears a pink tinge is dusting Will’s cheeks as he smiles at him from his spot on the couch.
*
Will was right. This book, The Changeling , Mike’s mind supplies, is amazing. He’s going to have to check out more from this author, he thinks.
Pulling the silky comforter off of his increasingly warm body and stretching, Mike sits up, long legs allowing for the tips of his toes to brush his cold floor. Looking over at his side table, he notices the time, 2:48 P.M., which means he’s been reading this book non-stop for more than four hours without moving. It’s not unheard of as he tends to get lost in his own world when he reads, but it’s still a shock that half of his day is gone already.
Standing and holding onto the wall for a moment so his vision clears from the black spots dotting his view, he shakes his body slightly to ease a bit of the tension in his bones and treks to the kitchen. He tosses a piece of bread in the toaster and grabs his lactose-free butter, hand placed in the refrigerator before realizing he ran out. This is fine.
It’s not fine. What is he supposed to eat now? The cereal or waffles that are collecting dust in his cabinet and fridge? No!
He looks around the refrigerator and realizes it’s basically barren, the only foods inside being two tomatoes, bread, lactose-free milk and an old cling wrapped lemon from God knows how long ago. Maybe it’s time for a trip to the grocery store.
Grocery shopping has to be one of his least favourite things to exist, just below the texture of chalk and crowded halls. So, can you really blame him for wearing his headphones to the store, the volume of his music put as high as it can be without hurting him?
He moves swiftly with his grocery basket, which currently has bagels, lactose-free butter, and a packet of dark chocolate (he’s well aware that it could take him out of this plane of existence if he eats too much of it at once.) Considering he can’t hear anything besides the Taylor Swift blasting in his ears, the spook he gets from the feeling of a light tapping on his shoulder isn’t surprising.
Mike jumps, turning around instantly and pulling his headphones from his ears and down around his neck, not bothering to turn the music off.
He instantly recognized the head of fluffy brown hair and caramel eyes looking back at him. Will is standing in front of him with a shy smile on his face, one hand holding his basket and the other limp at his side. Suddenly Mike wishes he had turnt his music off, because the only sound between the two is Taylor Swift’s voice singing Midnight Rain muffled through the headphones around his neck. Mike scrambles for his phone in his pocket, turning the music off finally after missing the pause button three times.
Mike shoves his phone back into his pocket as his cheeks flush, focusing on Will’s shy smile.
“Hey, Mike. I saw you and just thought I'd say hi?” Will affectionately giggles, stuffing his free hand into his jacket pocket.
Mike clears his throat in an attempt to calm his composure. “Right. Hi, Will! What are you doing here?”
As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it, instantly remembering they’re both in a grocery store with shopping baskets.
Will laughs, and Mike copies him not knowing if he's laughing at him or with him.
“Shopping, as one does in a shopping mart.” he giggles.
“It’s weird seeing you outside of the bookstore. I don't know, I may have convinced myself you lived there and couldn't leave, like some sort of game NPC or something.” Mike says, quickly changing the topic.
This gets a giggle out of Will, and now that Mike knows it’s not to make fun of him, he feels a sense of pride at being the one to erupt such an adorable sound from the boy.
“Nope,” Will chuckles, “not an NPC, as much as it feels like I am sometimes.”
Mike shifts his basket from his right hand to his left, the strain beginning to hurt. He would work out if he didn’t have to be near tons of loud people on equipment that most definitely hasn’t been cleaned many times since it was first placed there.
“Do you need help with that?” Will questions, hand out in invitation.
Mike’s cheeks flush. “Oh, um- it’s alright-”
“Here,” Will grabs his basket from his hands, his both hands now occupied, and smiles at Mike, “there.”
Mike’s flush deepens, fingers going to his fading graphic tee to pick at a loose thread. “Oh, I- Thank you?” His words come out as more of a question as he eyes Will, his biceps bulging vaguely through the slightly-too-small fitting flannel jacket he’s wearing over a plain white tee.
“No problem.” Will’s voice breaks Mike’s brief trance, making his eyes instantly dart back towards his eyes. “Was this it or were you still shopping?” he questions, lifting Mike’s basket in reference.
“That was it!” Mike says, knowing full well that wasn’t it at all and that he still needed a few fruits. “Thank you.” the words come out a little louder than intended, causing him to wince slightly.
Will’s lips upturn into a smile before his eyes light up in thought. “Would you want to come over? I was going to make spaghetti, if you like pasta?” Will gestures his head down to his basket where three boxes of spaghetti and bowtie pastas take up space next to two jars of tomato sauce.
One thing about Mike Wheeler is he would never down free food. Unless said food was a kind he didn’t like, like Broccoli. In that case, he would definitely turn it down. But in this situation, he is jumping at the opportunity. His favourite food and favourite boy? Sign him the hell up.
“Yes!” Mike says, the excitement obvious in his voice. “I love pasta. Yes, please.” he continues, flapping his hands back and forth to get some of his nerves out.
Will’s smile turns into a grin. “Great!”
*
Now, Mike is in Will’s apartment, the lingering smell of already eaten spaghetti filling the room with a delicious aroma. The pasta had been one of the best things he’s ever tasted, and he make’s a mental note to ask Will to package the leftovers so he can take it home.
The television is on lowly in the background as Mike explains everything he likes about the book Will had recommended.
“I’m serious,” Mike’s hands fiddling with Will’s tanner ones, “I need to know if he has any more books, I really liked it.”
Will’s face is dusted with a pink matching his lips, but doesn't comment on Mike’s touchy antics that he doesn't seem to notice he’s doing. “I told you it would be! What, did you doubt me?”
“What? No! I'd never doubt you.” Mike replies, a little too honest. “I’m just a man with a very specific type” And you’re a perfect example of said type.
Will doesn’t reply, instead choosing to lean his head on Mike’s boney shoulder. If Mike weren’t about to explode in a bajillion pieces, he’d question how comfortable his pointy bones are to lay on.
He chooses to act natural. Or as natural as he can manage, before an idea pops into his head.
“Would you want to come to one of my party’s D&D sessions?”
Will lifts his head up from Mike’s shoulder, nearly making him miss that warmth he brought before that warmth is felt in double by his seemingly gold-flecked eyes making direct contact with Mike’s own. “Really?”
Mike nods vigorously. The thought of his favourite person (minus the party) and his favourite game being in the same room exciting him immensely. “Yeah! It would be cool, and I could show you how to play as we go!”
Will smiles warmly at him. “I’d like that.”
“Great! Great. If you give me your number I can text you the- the details?” Mike replies, realizing how flirty it sounds halfway through but not mad about. If he can’t flirt directly he’s happy he can be smooth without meaning too.
Will shifts a little so that his arm that was at his side is now over the couch and behind Mike’s head. “Yeah, yeah sure.”
*
That’s how Will ends up in Mike’s over-decorated apartment, Dustin, Lucas and Max sitting in front of Mike and Will at his dining table, Dungeon Master screen placed around Mike’s spot.
“Oh come one, that’s totally cheating! You’re giving Will the advantage!” Dustin whines, leaning back in the wooden chair he’s sat in.
Mike’s eyebrows downturn defensively. “I’m not!”
Mike definitely is. Who wouldn't give their crush an advantage? Plus, Will’s never played before and he wants to give him a good introduction to the game. Anybody would do it. Can you really blame him?
Max snorts. “You so are.” she says, Lucas nodding in agreement
Apparently yes.
Mike crosses his arms in defiance. “He’s new!” he defends.
“So you admit it!” Dustin leans forward, finger pointing at Mike in accusation.
While the argument between Dustin, Mike and Lucas continues, Max leans over the table to Will.
“So, I never really got to ask. How’d you meet this loser?”
Will snorts, shaking his head lightly at the jokey insult. “He’s a regular at the bookstore I work at.” he takes a moment to sip his glass of water. “We ended up hitting it off pretty well.”
Max nods, going silent for a few seconds before chiming back in. “You guys are boyfriends or something, right?”
Water shoots straight through Will’s nose, face going beet red as the entire table turns to him, his coughing being the only noise heard besides Mike’s worried ‘Are you alright? What happened?’
“Yeah, Will. What happened?” Max snickers.
Will sends a glare to Max before choking out a small “Nothing, just went down the wrong pipe I guess.”
As the rest of the table turns back to the argument, Mike leans his head down to Will’s ear. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, worry clear in his tone.
Will urges off a blush at Mike’s rumbly tone in his ears. He’s just being caring. “Yeah, I am.” he smiles up at Mike.
Mike nods, turning back to the other boys and shooting back into his debate.
“You never answered my question?” Max giggles at Will’s flushed state.
“No, we're not that. ” Will huffs quietly. “I’m pretty sure he only likes me as a friend, if even that. We’ve known each other for like, two months.”
Max’s mouth drops in disbelief. “‘As a friend’? You are literally the only thing he talks about, it gets annoying. ‘We need a cleric, you know who would be good at that?’ ‘Will did this today when we were talking’ like Jesus, he’s obsessed.”
Will’s face erupts into flames for the upteenth time this night. Does Mike really talk about him? He had a guess that Mike could have liked him, but he never indulged in the thought too much in fear that he’s just making up all of the signs.
“Does he r-”
Will is interrupted by Mike placing a hand on his shoulder.
“We’re gonna start playing again, you guys ready?” Mike eyes Max, glare obvious in his eyes no matter how hard he tries to be sneaky about it. Max just snickers, making Mike’s frustrated frown deepen.
Will’s voice breaks him out of his attempt to pop Max’s head like a balloon with his mind. “Yeah, we’re good!”
*
The campaign ended with Max’s zoomer being the only character dead, and if that was on purpose then that was nobody else's business but Mike’s own.
“I had fun tonight!” Will’s voice sounds through Mike’s now empty apartment, the others having left shortly after exchanging numbers with Will. Mike’s glad to know the party likes him almost as much as he does.
Another thing he’s glad about is Will enjoying his favourite game. “I’m so happy that you did! I tried to make the campaign as new-user friendly as possible.” he smiles. “Would you.. Would you want to join me- us again one time?” Mike shly asks, rocking back and forth on his heels.
Will grins. “I’d love to.”
For a moment the two just stare at each other, the soft smile on Will’s lips drawing Mike’s eyes towards them. They look soft, plush. Mike wonders what it’d be like to kiss them. Is that too much?
“Mike?” Will's voice drags him out of his trance.
Eyes widening at being caught, Mike backs up a few steps, fingers picking at his cuticles. “Ye- Yeah?”
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”
Mike’s a little confused, but he shrugs it off anyways. He gets confused easily, he’s learnt to just keep moving. “Okay.”
They stare at each other for a while longer, another two minutes passing before Mike notices Will’s face leaning in, lips parted and slicked with spit.
“Are you- Am I reading this wrong or-?” Mike begins, eyes widened but making no move to back away.
Will just smiles. “I hope I’m not.” he says, before leaning in and pressing his lips softly to Mike's own chapped ones.
Mike is in shock, mostly trying to process the fact Will is kissing him and also from having kissed only one other person in his 19 years of living.
Apparently Mike took too long to think and forgot to kiss back, leaving Will to pull away as a quick embarrassed ‘sorry’ leaves his lips. “I guess I did read that wrong, I'm really sorry, Mike. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I can leave if you-”
“No, no! Jeez, I’m sorry. I- Can I–?” Mike brings his hands up to Will’s face, softly leaning it to press a small peck to them in an embarrassed flurry.
It takes Will all of two seconds to get the memo, leaning back in and deepening the innocent kiss as emotions pour out via the movement of his lips against Mike’s own. His fingers come to curl around Mike’s waist in a way that makes Mike feel delicate in a way he enjoys rather than in one he dislikes.
If Mike were to describe kissing Will, he would describe it as one of the best things he’s ever done. Kissing his ex-girlfriend, Jane, had been hell in his opinion. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was a girl or because she was bad. Probably the first option, considering he’s kissing a boy and enjoying it way more than kissing a girl ever made him feel.
Mike pulls away, retracting his hands for a moment to shake them to relieve nerves. Will keeps his hands on Mike’s waist. “Can I stay here tonight?”
And that’s what he does, because two hours later they’re both laying in Mike’s bed, a book held in Will’s hands as Mike lays his head on his firm chest. It’s quiet, save for the sound of book pages turning and Will’s heartbeat thrumming in Mike’s ears.
Will’s hands curl Mike’s hair strands in little circles before letting them spring out and restarting the process. The feeling of Will's cotton shirt against his face is soothing, unlike his wool sweater that Mike had made him take off as the texture was two seconds away from causing him to implode internally (not in the good way).
“You ‘kay?” Will whispers down to him, and Mike can hear the tenderness in his sleepy voice.
“Yeah.”
Mike doesn’t think he’d want to be anywhere else for the rest of his life.