Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mike Wheeler did not know how to swim. It wasn´t a fact that he´d necessarily call a character flaw, but it wasn't exactly something he was parading around with either. Worse than that, both his sisters were excellent swimmers - Nancy had even competed a few times. Not Mike though. Mike had refused to take swimming lessons. When his mother had attempted to force him by just dropping him off anyway, he had simply hidden in the bathroom. Sure, maybe if his mother knew he never learned how to swim she wouldn't have booked the family a trip to an Italian beachside, but it was too late for that now.

They had arrived that morning in the quaint Italian town. The hotel was, granted, less a hotel and more of a nice, four-level villa being rented out in rooms. He slept on a couch in the room he shared with his sisters, while their parents slept next door. The owner of Albergo del Corvo was called Maria. She was middle-aged, divorced and had two teenagers. When they had arrived, she had joked that their mother would be much happier without her husband. No one laughed, but Nancy and Mike shared a very knowing look with each other. It wasn't a well-kept secret that this trip had two missions, to keep the family together as Mike prepared to move into Nancy´s Boston apartment and to try and salvage their parents' relationship. 

Albergo del Corvo is a pink house on the edge of a town called Kastola. The roofs are brown and the balconies all have curved tops. There are red flowers on every window sill and a long table outside in the front yard. Behind the villa is a small, three-bedroom cottage where Maria and her children live, and a large pool surrounded by white cobblestones. There are flowers and plants everywhere, and just behind the hedges, you could see the Vineyard acres, as long as the eye can see. When it's approaching noon, the sun makes everything seem golden. 

Mike and his family were all tired from a day of travelling across the globe, so they settled on the pool instead of the beach. In true fashion, his dad was already fast asleep on a bench, his shoulders turning red from sunburn since he refused to wear sunscreen. His sister was reading a biography on Andrew Jackson - Mike thought he would never understand her fascination with dead presidents. Holly and his mom were deep in conversation about the meaning of life and what happens after you die, which seemed to freak his mom out way more than his nine-year-old sister. 

Mike, however, was having a staring contest with the pool. He sat on the warm, white cobblestones and dangled his legs in the cool water not daring to go in. No, Mike had always been the type of person who did things right or didn't do them at all. And, it would be a rather embarrassing way to die - to drown because you couldn't admit to your family you didn't know how to swim. No, thank you very much. 

Mike also quite liked learning things on his own. Looking at them, thinking, writing them down and figuring them out. He wrote stories until everything was laid out clearly in front of him. He had always thought that art must be the simplest and most uncomplicated thing in the whole wide world. It was just opening your eyes and being honest about what you were seeing. Like being a spy, but realistic. He also knew that that would really be the cherry on top of his and his father´s non-existent relationship. 

Mike also knew that at that moment, sitting on the cobblestones, Mike really wished he was an artist. A painter or a sketcher or something - because the way the sun reflected on the water was really one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. He might just cry if he kept looking at it. That was sometimes the trouble with writing, he had found. He could write about the way the sunbeams coloured and reflected on the stilled water for hours and hours on end and it still wouldn't compete with the colourful view in front of him. 

When Mike finally ripped his gaze away from the water, he saw that two kids around his age had sat on the pool chairs opposite him. A boy and a girl, probably twins. The girl had long, mousy brown hair and was wearing the pinkest outfit Mike had ever seen - a pink bikini, with pink shorts and pink sunglasses. She even had a pink scrunchie in her hair. Mike found it kind of cool. Her book also fit the theme - a soft pink edition of Steinbeck's The Pearl. She looked to be totally and completely invested in the world, her lips moving along with the words, and next to her sat - 

Mike´s heart skipped a beat. Mike´s heart had never skipped a beat before, and he finally understood what people were talking about. Next to the girl in pink was the most beautiful boy Mike had ever seen. He had the same mousy brown hair, but where hers ran down her back in long waves, his was short and styled into a mullet. Like, Mike was sure he could seriously give Mel Gibson a run for his money. He was wearing dark green shorts and a Talking Heads T-shirt and Mike thought that he might just be the coolest boy he'd ever met. And, like that wasn´t enough, the mullet boy seemed to be drawing the same rays of sunlight that Mike had just admired. He considered going over for a second, saying hi but couldn't pull away from him. There was a magnetism to them that he couldn't avoid. 

That is, of course, until the mullet boy looks back at him and catches his eyes. The boy has hazel eyes. The kind that almost looks green in the bright sunlight. And all light dash of freckles across his nose. The mullet boy´s gaze was questioning, but not necessarily scared or offended. Mike found it almost addicting. A boy he had never met before, a boy he didn´t know what was called or who he was, and he couldn't look away (and to be fair, the boy didn't seem to be on his way to look away either). 

That was, of course, until Holly ran up to him and pushed him into the pool. 

Fuck. That was the only word Mike could think of to describe it. Sure, he´d carefully chosen to sit by the shallow end to avoid just this, but even the shallow end sent him into a panic, he could feel his chest tightening and tears welling into his eyes before he finally steadied himself on the bottom and standing up, taking a dramatically deep breath of fresh air. 

“Holly, please don´t do that again.” Mike pleaded. 

“Why? Scared you´ll drown?” 

“Yeah, actually.”

“Mike, don't be mean to your sister.” His mom had already settled down in her chair with a magazine as she said it. Holly stuck her tongue out at him before running back to her things. 

Mike awkwardly tried to get the hair out of his eyes. He had started growing it out these last few months, and it was currently awkwardly always-in-his-eyes. As he walk-swam-drowned his way over to the only stairs going out of the pool, right by the mullet boy´s chair, he saw the boy get out of it and stand up. Mike halfway expected him to push him back in, or ask him if he knew where some tourist attraction or other was. But instead, he got;

“You can´t swim, can you?” It wasn´t accusatory. More like a guess, like he was trying to figure Mike out. Mike blushed. The boy's eyes met his own. 

“How´d you tell?” Mike said as he climbed the last step on the ladder and stepped onto the pavement. 

“Why don't you just get your family to help you?” He looked slightly confused as he asked, speaking in a hushed tone. 

“Uhh…they don´t know I can´t swim” Mike laughed, but looked down as he did. It sounded so stupid and he was really anticipating laughter from the other boy. 

“I can teach you. Y´know, if you want. I don´t mind.” Mike could have sworn the other boy was blushing. “I´m Will.” The boy called Will reached out his hands in an offer to shake his. 

“Mike”. He smiled at him and shook his hand. 

“How about you meet me here tonight, after dinner? Ten p.m. maybe?” 

“I´d love that,” Mike said, a little too quickly. God, what was this Will doing to him? Will just smiled before turning around and getting back to his drawing. Mike awkwardly stood in place before turning around and walking briskly to his own side of the pool. 

“Now, let's just walk a little bit further and then try to float, okay?” Will said, his hands guiding Mike away from the poolside, but still being careful not to go in. Will was a good teacher, but Mike had been blushing like a peach ever since Will took off his shirt an hour ago. 

“Float?” 

“Yeah.”

“How the hell do I float?” Mike stopped in his tracks. Will laughed, not at him but with him. Like they were friends. 

“You just spread out, kind of like a starfish, on top of the water, and then you try to not sink.” Will shrugged his shoulders like it was the easiest thing in the world. Mike stopped and stared at him. 

“What?” Mike said, partly shocked and partly because it sounded so ridiculous. 

“Have you never been in a pool before?” 

“Uhhh…define being in a pool. Because I´ve been to, like, the bathroom at a pool…” Mike was trying to waste time. Lying like a starfish and trying not to drown were not things he wanted to be doing. Will laughed. 

“But, your whole family can swim. Your older sister - what's her name?” 

“Nancy” 

“Nancy. She's an amazing swimmer. I would have assumed - ”

“Were you checking out my sister, William?” Mike says, withdrawing his hands from Will´s to place them on his hips, but immediately regrets it when he loses the comfort of holding onto something and grabs them again. Will smiles at Mike and feigns a scoff. 

“Not my cup of tea,” Will says, as he looks away. 

Mike catches Will´s eye, and they stare at each other for what is, for sure, way too long. 

“So,” Will continued, “Wanna try floating.” 

Mike laughs. Will splashes him with water, and in an attempt to splash back Mike loses his footing and falls face first onto Will who catches him effortlessly in the water. 

“Guess you fell for me, huh?” Will says, before blushing furiously when he realizes what he says. Mike blushes too. 

“Yeah, guess so.” 

They stare at each other like that for a lot longer than they should, and for a lot longer than anyone could justify a swimming lesson to need. Mike doesn´t want to leave Will´s embrace. He can´t remember the last time he got a hug. And Will is so pretty. God, Mike thinks, I really hope this kid is queer. 

Chapter Text

It was a hot day. The thermometer was slowly but surely crawling above the 30 degrees Celsius sign. Around 90 degrees Fahrenheit. It wasn´t insanely hot or uncomfortably hot, but it was slightly hotter than the cold Indiana summer they had been having that year. To be fair, in the two days prior they'd been there the heat had ended up at around 35 Celcius. Mike had never loved the heat. It was sticky and uncomfortable and made him groggy. Really, it made him feel like a little kid again. Still, when Mike´s family decided to go to the beach, Mike couldn't help but hope that Will would be there.

They took a long way, walking through downtown. His mom and the girls were in front, chatting about who knows what while Holly skipped excitedly. His dad was doing that thing he did where he pretended to take in the sights, but really he was just thinking. Mike, who thought he might never understand his father, was leading the rest. Kastola is a beautiful town. The main street in downtown is long, with tall buildings on one side and the beach on the other. The houses were off-white, with shops and restaurants on the ground floor and apartments with flower-filled balconies above. The bakery smelled delicious, and Holly had already fallen in love with the spaghetti ice cream a restaurant was advertising.

Really, what Mike was doing was scanning the streets for Will. He hadn't been at breakfast (not that Mike had been obsessively checking, of course…), or at the bakery, or outside either of the cafés, so he was either at the beach or inside one of the shops or out of town. And Mike really hoped he was at the beach.

Mike laid down his towel and settled in to sunbathe, finding excuses when his sisters tried to drag him into the sea. Maybe he'd need a few more swimming lessons before jumping into the ice-cold ocean. And he was perfectly happy laying in the sand– an awkwardly long way from his dad– reading The picture of Dorian Gray. It was near the end, and a very emotional scene, when suddenly -

“Hi,” Will said as he sat down in the sand next to him. Mike practically jumped, dropping his book.

“Jesus, Will,” Mike said, dusting the sand off his book and smiling widely at the other boy. Will smiled back at him and rolled his eyes.

“What are you reading?”

“Uhh, Oscar Wilde.”

“Oh. You like, uh, those types of authors?”

Ok yeah, maybe Mike had specifically chosen to read that book that day despite not having finished Salem´s lot just in case Will saw him and commented on it and maybe he was secretly ecstatic that it had worked, but it didn´t mean Will was gay.

“Oh yeah. Biiiiig fan.” Jesus Christ, Wheeler. Will just laughed at him. “What about you?”

“Yeah, I dabble.” Will smiled at him. He didn't dwell on the thought for long before they were interrupted by the girl in pink who was calling Will´s name.

“That's my almost twin sister, Jane.” Will rolled his eyes. He seemed to do that a lot, but it always seemed to be out of love. Mike couldn't help but think how beautiful Will looked in the sunlight - how the sun made his hair seem golden and his hazel eyes seemed almost green.

“...Almost twin?”

“It's complicated.”

Jane, the almost twin, was trying to run to them but had, by the looks of it, never been in the sand before because every time she fell down in the sand dunes she stood up and started running again. Finally, she reached them and slammed down on the sand.

“Hi.” She said, very out of breath.

“Hey,” Mike answered. He noticed they were wearing matching, hideous, pink and blue Hawaiian dad shirts over their swimsuits. “I like the shirts.”

“Thank you!” They both said at the same time before they all burst out laughing. Mike´s dad, however, did not appreciate it and grumpily got up to move his towel even further away which does nothing to quell the laughter,

“Uhh, Will,” Jane says, turning to face her brother.

“Yes, Jane.”

“We're going to lunch.”

“Oh.”

“He can come.”

“Oh! You want lunch, Mike?”

Mike thought for a moment. This meant meeting Will´s parents (and his dad seemed to be absolutely terrifying actually), but it also meant he could spend more time with Will. God, this puppy crush of his was so embarrassing.

“I'd love to.”

Look, it wasn´t that Mike´s mother was sub-par or that she didn't do what she thought was the best, it was more the fact that Will and Jane´s mother might just be the most wonderful woman he had ever met. She hugged him when they met outside the restaurant, and she wouldn't even have him mention paying for himself. Their father wasn't half bad either, a police captain from their hometown who didn't say much but looked at his wife like she personally hung the moon and the stars.

Joyce and Jim and their three kids, Jonathan, Jane and Will (Mike thinks he´ll never understand why they´re all J names except for Will but alas) all had brown hair and kind eyes. Joyce and Jim were in love in a soft way. They knew each other's drink orders by heart, and Jim automatically grabbed his wife´s purse and laid it in his lap when she went to the bathroom. Really, it wasn´t these big gestures but it was the small thing, and as a writer, he often thought about them when writing about people in love, even many years and decades into the future.

“So, Mike, what are you studying out in Boston?” Joyce asked.

“Creative writing”, Mike answered, awkwardly trying to swallow the pasta stuck in his throat as he did and then chugging his entire glass of water. Will snorted at him under his breath.

“Well, you´re quite a pair of artists then, aren't you,” Jim said, which really didn't help the whole choking-on-a-piece-of-ravioli fiasco.

In the end, Jane, who was sitting on his left side, hit his back a little too hard a few times while Will, on his right side, sat and tried to keep in his laughter. Jonathan, the oldest of the three siblings - probably around Nancy´s age, had taken to staring daggers at Mike. Mike didn't quite know what to do with that - it's not like he had really done anything wrong…yet. Maybe Jonathan was just a maniac.

Mike and Will spent the rest of the day in the pool. Albergo del Corvo was empty, with everyone either outside on the beach or inside for a mid-day, post-lunch nap. The sun looked magical when it bounced off the water, just like it had before and it made Mike want to learn to draw, just like it had before. Will had decided that today they were simply going to toss a beach ball between them. In Will's words, it would help him to overcome his fears of water…not that Mike would admit to anyone else that those fears existed.

“So, creative writing?” Will asked as he tossed him the ball, only about three yards away from him. The question was open-ended in a way that Mike wasn't used to - like he really just wanted to get to know him.

“Uhh, yeah. I've kinda always wanted to be an author. Make, like, comic books and stuff.” Mike found himself blushing as he said it.

“That's so cool!” Will smiled as he said it, and Mike could tell Will meant it. “I´m studying, or I'm going to study art up in San Francisco after the summer”.

Mike stopped himself from throwing the ball back.

“No way! We could, like, make comics together. In the future, I mean. I mean, if you´re interested of course.” Fuck, Mike thought, now he´s definitively messed up. Will smiles at him and looks away (and Mike almost wants to say that he's blushing).

“That would be cool”.

There´s an almost awkward silence between them while they toss the ball between them. In the few days that they´ve known each other, Mike has realised that Will is much more of a listener than a talker with people he doesn't know well (that is, Mike´s seen him ramble endlessly to his sister but he seems to keep all the words to himself when he's with Mike, even though Mike can see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he thinks).

“Hey, did you hear that you only have to be 18 to buy alcohol in Italy?”

Chapter Text

There was an old plunge pool about halfway up Mount Undici. The waterfall had dried up several heatwaves ago, but the plunge pool still sat there and collected rainwater on rainy days. There are flowers all around it, light pink star-shaped ones by the cliff where the waterfall had once fallen, and long, green stems with yellow buds on cliff seats. The cliffs and mountain itself were a dark, almost black igneous rock and rose high into the sky. The path up there was clear, obviously well used by the locals, but the trail seemed to disappear the higher you walked. That morning, the skies were clear and the weather was sure to become uncomfortably hot later in the day, and it had rained during the night so it was warm and sticky, but the world still felt new and slightly cold to the touch nonetheless. The rocks hadn´t completely dried from the previous night, either, and so they shone slightly in the morning sun.

The boys planned this trip three days ago, and that morning they´d both arrived at breakfast at eight in the morning, before making their way to the only shop in town. Will had picked out strawberries and blueberries, a baguette, some nice-but-still-inexpensive cheese and two packs of Jugoslavija cigarettes, which had been his signature brand since arriving in Italy. Mike, however, had gone straight to the drinks and picked up three bottles of cheap, red wine and a small flask of something clear and Italian. As they pooled together their money Will had the mind to grab them some bottles of water and cola, and then they hiked up the mountain with stuffed backpacks and a day away from everyone ahead of them.

Nancy had found out about this place after a very nice Italian boy twice her age asked her to come with him that night for a little fun (Nancy had declined, in perfect Italian). Still, she´d shared the place with him and suggested very unsubtly that he should invite Will there. And Mike did, so it seemed she was right. Plus, it was the perfect place to get drunk in the sun.

Will had decided they would start the day with a little swim since, in his very professional opinion, it would be a “very bad idea” for drunk Mike to go swimming. This was alright, except for the fact that Will looked, like, really fucking hot today. He was always a very attractive boy, Mike wouldn´t deny that, but when he took off his old Bowie t-shirt Mike thought he would actually pass out. Today, it was floating time. It terrified Mike to no extent. To just relinquish control, let the water keep you alive? No thank you, Mike was more than fine with doing that himself. But, he also trusted the other boy (maybe a little too much, since they had met just a week before), so he did just that. He spread his arms and legs and laid down on his back, and immediately sank.

The panic set in quickly, as it always did when he was suddenly dunked underwater, and the ground was rocky and uneven and the water was cold and it filled his lungs and he was definitely going to drown and – Will grabbed his waist and stood him up. Mike´s hair, with its long bangs, dripped into his eyes and blocked a part of his vision, but it didn´t conceal how beautiful the other boy looked, water dripping down his chest, his normally fluffy mullet smushed down by the water and the worry clear on his face.

“You okay?” Will said.

“Yeah,” Mike answered. Mike had never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his life. Will´s hands were still on his waist, holding him close, and he could feel them burning into his heart. It was wonderful and scary and he never wanted this moment to end.

They stood like that for a long time, for what felt like hours but was probably not more than a minute or two.

“Lunch?” Mike finally managed to say.

It was the hottest part of the day. They'd eaten lunch and split one of the bottles of wine. Neither of them had a watch so there was no way to know what the time really was, but Mike would guess around one in the afternoon. Mike was attempting to finish his book; Dorian just stabbed Basil and it's all very emotional, but he can't seem to focus because next to him is Will, sunbathing and smoking a cigarette.

When he exhales the smoke, it curls up towards the sky in beautiful wisps of smoke for a moment before being scattered about by the wind. When he took the first drag, he was sitting but as he exhaled he threw his head back and Mike thought he might actually melt. Mike wasn't a smoker, he had never smoked in his life if he was to be honest, but suddenly he was itching for one. If not only to focus on something else than Will´s lips.

“Hey, uhh, can I have one?”

Will, who is lying down and propped up on his elbows, looks at him curiously.

“I thought you didn't smoke?” He said, before taking another drag.

“I don´t,” Mike says, looking away to hide his blush - suddenly very interested in the ground, “Like, it's not a habit.”

Will smiled at him and bit his lip like he was concealing his laughter.

“Alright, Michael. But don´t go blaming me if you get addicted.”

Will handed him the red and blue-adorned pack. Mike took it, muttering a quick change. One of the cigarettes was turned upside down. It made Mike smile, and he made a mental note to ask about it later. He picked one, and nervously put it between his lips, looking up at Will expectantly. Will laughed at him.

“First time smoking?”

“Pffft, no way,” Mike said, obviously joking. “I smoke, like all the time.” He smiled at Will.

“Sure you do. Light?”

“Yes please”

Will flipped open his silver lighter, cupping his hand around Mike´s cigarette as he did. Mike just kind of sat there, frozen. Will tried, unsuccessfully, to light the cigarette.

“You have to inhale as I light it, Mr Smokes-all-the-time.”

Mike blushed. “I knew that, I was just - “ No excuse came to mind. “Fine, I´ll inhale.”

It caught fire that time. Mike inhaled aggressively and instantly coughed. Will, once again, laughed at him.

“You sure you've smoked before?”

“You know, maybe I was slightly over-exaggerating. Slightly.” Mike took another puff from the cigarette and coughed again. He was getting slightly dizzy from the nicotine, and it felt a little like what he would imagine being high felt like. It was nice. He smiled at the other boy. “Cigarettes are pretty nice though, I´ll say that much.”

Will scoffed at him. “Yeah, until you get addicted and can't go a few hours without one.”

Will and Mike lay on the ground, looking up at the sky. The sun had already set and the moonlight illuminated their surroundings. The stars were scattered all over and seemed to be completely at random to Mike, but Will was pointing at this and that star and connecting them into zodiac signs. And even though Mike wasn't really super interested in it, he could listen to Will talk for hours.

“So the story goes that Zeus fell in love with this woman named Europa,” Will said, looking into Mike´s eyes, “So, one day while she's hanging out at the beach he transforms into this beautiful white bull. Europa is fascinated by it, and Zeus ends up sweeping her away on his back into the sea to take her as his lover. Then he placed Taurus, the bull, up there as a sign of his love.” Will seemed to like that story and looked dreamily up at the sky.

“Wait, he kidnapped her?” Mike said after thinking it through, sitting up and looking at him confused.

“Well, not exactly. It´s Greek, what do you expect?”

“I´m not the history nerd of the two of us, you tell me,” Mike smirked after saying it, looking up at the stars. Will sat up as well and caught his eye.

“You take that back.”

“Never”

“Wow. After I teach you to swim?”

“Yep. I´m an ungrateful brat, have you never talked to my father?”

That seemed to dampen the mood.

“Your dad sounds like he kind of sucks.” Will looked at him with something of a mix between pity and understanding. Mike looked away, fiddling with the leftover bottle of wine.

“He´s fine, I guess. I think it's more me - he always wanted a more manly son and I´m so far from that.” Mike laughed, but he was sure it was obvious it hurt him a lot. “He's not really present. But he makes a lot of money so that's nice.”

Mike looked at Will. Will seemed to be deciding if he should say what he was thinking.

“Your dad's nice, at least from an outsider's perspective,” Mike said.

“He's not really my dad. Well, he's more of a dad than my biological one.” Will answered. It was obviously uncomfortable for him to talk like that, openly.

“You don't have to talk about it…” Mike wanted nothing more than for Will to be happy.

“No, it's fine. My original dad left when I was a kid. About ten years ago, I think. It was good riddance. He liked to hit things. And he had two sons and both of them were, in his opinion, queer and unmanly. I have no idea where he´s wound up, and I don't think I´d like to know either.” Will took a pause and stared into the night. Mike couldn´t resist it and laid his hand on top of Will´s. Will seemed to almost instinctively jerk his hand back, before resisting and smiling sadly at Mike.

“My mom married dad six years ago. He had a daughter from before, Jane. So, we´re not even related really.” Will laughed like it was meant to be a joke but it obviously wasn't. “You know, I worry sometimes I'm becoming like him. There's a shed, in our backyard back home. It used to be my father's before he left, and now it's filled with gardening supplies from dad but there's still the little case where he kept his beer and a box with his magazines. I go there sometimes. When I can´t sleep. I don´t know, we´re so different and he hates me, but I'm still his kid and that's hard, you know?”

Mike doesn't have any words to answer that, just nods. He really wants to hug him, but it isn't the time. Instead, he just says;

“I know.”

Chapter Text

Mike Wheeler has never been so hungover in his goddamned life. Everything hurts, his mouth is drier than the Sahara desert and the room won't stop slightly wobbling. Also, he feels like he might throw up.

Nancy has dragged him to the only shop in town, a second-hand shop where the light hurts his eyes (but at least it's better than a pool day with Holly, who seems to have endless energy today). She's looking through the boxes of clothes scattered around, determined to find something new for the final year of her undergraduate degree in journalism. Something smart and chic, but also cosy is the goal. It's not going very well. What Mike would really like to do is lay down on the cold floor, spread in the starfish position, and melt. What he's doing is looking through a small box of old cassettes, not really paying attention but hoping to find something interesting nonetheless. It's mostly Italian music, operas and bible verses but there are two Wham! albums and the hidden treasure: an old, beat-up copy of The man who sold the world - which just so happens to be Mike´s favourite Bowie album. His mind instantly goes to Will, and he quickly buys it and hides it from his sister (god knows what she would say if she knew he was buying Bowie albums for strange boys in Italian towns).

Nancy hangs around the shop a little longer, so Mike steps outside for some fresh air. God, what he wouldn't give for a classic American fried breakfast - the best hangover cure he knows. Instead, he's only had black coffee - the only thing he could even think of consuming in his current state.

The air in Kastola feels fresher than back home, smelling slightly of the sea and the bakery a couple of doors down. The reason why it's called Kastola is that up on the cliffs behind him there's an old castle and a fortress. The cliffs are steep, and there's only one way up to the building: long, winding stairs.,It makes Mike wonder how they built it in the first place. It's beautiful and miraculous but it's also way too hot and he's way too hungover to contemplate the feats of humankind for too long. This is fine because by now Nancy is leaving the shop, shouting something in Italian to the woman who's working the till.

“Did you buy something?” Mike asks her, the bright sun giving him a horrible headache.

“No,” Nancy answered him. “Hey, when you move in you better learn your limits because I am not dealing with hungover Mike every Sunday.”

Mike blushes. It's fair, he's something of a monster when hungover. He's excited to be moving, though. Nancy has been living in Boston for three years now, and Mike is moving into the spare room left by her now-graduated roommate. He and Nancy were never on good terms as kids, but after she moved out they suddenly clicked - and even though he'd never admit it, he considers her as one of his closest friends.

“Yeah yeah, as long as you and that Robin chick you keep talking about keep it down.” Now it was Nancy´s turn to blush.

“Shut up.”

“Mike?”

Mike and his family were eating dinner at the nicer of the two restaurants in town - his dad not included, saying he had some papers to go over. He was sitting next to Holly, who was definitely trying to beat the world record of annoying your hungover older brother. Mike looked at Jane, who stood behind him in a beautiful purple summer dress.

“Jane! What are you doing here?” He smiled, not the least because that probably meant that Will was not far off.

“We're eating here tonight. It's dad's birthday.” She smiled at him, then at Mike´s mom. Mike´s mom smiled back, before looking at him surprised.

“And who is this young lady?” She said, her tone very obviously suggesting they were dating.

“Jane,” Said Jane, reaching over to shake Karen´s hand.

“Lovely to meet you.”

Karen was about to continue, when the rest of the family crowded around the table next to them, all saying hello to Mike, who visibly cringed at the loud sounds along with Will who did the same. Mike saw Nancy catch Jonathan's eye and smirk at the two of them. He kicked her leg lightly, mostly because he didn't have the energy for a more aggressive leg kick.

“What a nice girl,” said Karen, after everything had quieted down and both the families were in their own worlds again.

“Yep.” Said Mike.

“Should I remember her name?”

“If you want to,” Mike said, shrugging his shoulders. Karen rolled her eyes at him.

“She's pretty. You know, if you want to keep a girl like that you gotta work on it. Get her some flowers.” Karen said, smiling softly and seeming like she was daydreaming about being young.

“Or a Bowie cassette” Nancy muttered under her breath so only Mike could hear. He kicked her again while blushing furiously.

They sat on the beach that night, the two of them. There were some late-night partiers at the pool, but the beach was empty. Neither of them really felt like swimming so they just sat there, talking. The moon shone down, reflecting off the water and giving everything an unreal feel. Will was drawing Mike, who modelled a ridiculously dramatic pose for him, laying down in the sand with the demeanour of a very rich homosexual in the 20s.

“And…done. I think.”

Mike dramatically fell on his back. “Who knew being a model was such hard work?”

Will laughed, and Mike couldn't help but smile at that sound.

“Can I see?” Mike continued. Will just nodded his head and handed him the sketchbook.

The drawing really was quite beautiful. He was talented, and Mike - who barely knew how to draw a stick figure– could even admit that the shading was some of the best he'd ever seen. It looked so real he might cry.

“Will…” He said, looking up at him with awe. Will looked back at him anxiously.

“Do you hate it?”

“No! I love it.”

Will seemed to believe that, his gaze softening and a smile creeping onto his lips. Mike Wheeler really wanted to kiss him, but instead, he just tried to engrave that memory onto his mind to remember it forever. The way Will's eyes met his, the way his hair blew in the wind, the way his shirt hugged his shoulders in a way that would have made Michelangelo proud.

“Do you believe in life after death?” Will asked him. The question caught Mike off-guard. It's not that he didn´t expect Will to ask things like that - wondering about life and death seemed like a very Will thing to do– but it seemed like such an honest question as Will spoke without thinking.

“I don´t know,” Mike answered honestly. “I was raised Protestant. My mom and dad are big on the whole becoming the-likeness-of-God when you die. I guess I never really believed it. That life is some sort of pilgrimage and our only purpose is to die? If I wrote that into a story I think I´d be called into the counsellor's office.” Will chuckled at that, and when he did a warmth spread through Mike´s chest. “Do you?”

“I think I do. I wasn't raised religious, but I love history. There's this one verse, from the gospel of Judas, where he basically talks about the Christian afterlife as an endlessly green world without suffering, with only good people that love a lot. I think I´d like that.” Will bit his lip while saying that, like he was mentally convincing himself that he would like that.

“Yeah?” Mike asked him.

“Yeah.” Will smiled as he said it.

Mike was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling that had been there for the few days that they'd known each other, but he had never had the guts to name. Love. He was really, truly in love with Will. It was a love he had never felt for anyone, a love which had captured him in ten short days and made him want to change everything about himself for just the possibility of being loved back. It was the kind of overwhelming feeling where he had to catch his breath to not say it immediately, and still;

“I think I might be in love with you,” Mike blurted out, immediately regretting it. What was he thinking, they´d only known each other ten days? Ten days should not be enough to fall so much for someone - this wasn't Romeo and Juliet or Gone with the wind or Anna Karenina or any of Nancy´s Jane Austen books. It was real life, and in real life, you didn't get swept up in your emotions and confess your undying love to someone you barely know. Will just stared at him in shock.

“I´m sorry,” Mike says, finally breaking away from Will´s gaze.

“Don´t be,” Will says softly, his features softening. “I think…I might feel the same way.”

Will looked around after he said it as if he was afraid someone would jump out from the sand dunes and belittle them for it. No one did. It was just them and the world.

“You do?” Mike asked, surprised.

“I do,” Will answered, more sure of himself this time.

“Oh.” Mike isn't sure where they go from here, to be honest. “Cool.”

He instantly regrets his words, - who says cool after a romantic confession, but it breaks the energy and suddenly they're both lying on their backs laughing.

“I kind of want to kiss you right now,” Will whispers when they´ve both calmed down from laughter and are, once again, just staring into each other's eyes. Mike barely catches what he's saying.

“I kind of want you to kiss me,” Mike whispered back.

Warmth bloomed in Mike´s chest as Will leaned in close, closing his eyes as their lips brushed together, just so briefly, for the very first time. The citrusy smell of Will´s shampoo, the warm sand under him, Will´s hands on his hip - it was all dizzying. More so than the first time he had smoked a cigarette or even that time he had pneumonia. It was like a thousand butterflies had hatched in his stomach and now flew up his empty bones and into his heart. Will pulled away, and Mike didn't dare to move, he just opened his eyes and looked into Will´s.

“Hi.” He said.

“Hey,” Mike answered.

Chapter Text

Will drank black coffee. Mike drank cafés au lait. Will was flying back to the states in three days, and Mike felt he hadn't had nearly enough time with him. Often, when he thought like that, he'd beat himself up for having teenage hysterics, but something about being with Will made him want to be nicer to himself as well. Their summer fling-but-not-really-fling was ending and real life was about to take its place instead. Really, Mike wanted to hide under the covers (preferably with Will by his side) rather than think about the fact that he was moving away to Boston and starting college in a few weeks. He was going to pay rent and go grocery shopping and go to classes about writing with like-minded individuals and, as much as he disliked living with his parents, he knew he'd miss them. And Holly. She might have been an obnoxious little kid but Mike loved her, and it was bittersweet leaving her behind. She still had so many years left, stuck in that town staring at the golden dome.

He wasn´t going to mention that, though. He was afraid if he started talking it would just all come pouring out, his words ripping out everything with them. So, instead he just said;

“I got something for you.”
Will´s face lit up as he put down his cup.

“You did?”

“Yeah, well it isn't much or anything like that but. It reminded me of you and I love it a lot and I just -”

Mike handed him the cassette. The back was bright purple, the front had a picture of Bowie, laying on a sofa in a floral dress. Mike loved that cover. Will looked up at him with pure love in his eyes.

“Thank you. I shall cherish it forever,” He smiled, placing his hand on top of Mike´s. Mike felt a shudder go through him, the good kind. He really could not get enough of Will.

The boys were sitting on a small table in front of one of the two cafés in town. The house was a beautiful off-white colour with two stories above the café itself, each window adorned with a basket of red flowers in the brown, oak window sills. It smelled of roasted coffee and newly baked bread from the bakery next door, and since it was midday the main street was mostly empty, people choosing to spend the hottest part of the day in colder situations than drinking coffee in the middle of a street. The girl who was working that day had short, blonde hair done up in waves and spoke to them in broken English about how she was going to move to Los Angeles and become a movie star once she had saved up enough money. She was nice, so they didn't laugh until they came outside.

Mike and Will had spent much of the last week talking about everything and nothing, trying to find the secrets of the universe in each others´ past. The rest of the time, they spent making out in secluded spots, empty hotel rooms and in places where Mike's parents or little sister would not stumble upon them. They were less worried about Will´s family - Argyle and Jonathan had been living together for ages and his parents supported him in (almost) every decision, or Nancy who was totally not dating Robin Buckley, a linguistics major at her university. Holly probably wouldn't care, but like most nine-year-olds, Holly was a snitch.

However, this huge public display of affection seemed to attract one of the last unmentioned members of the two boys´ families - Karen Wheeler. Wearing her signature pearls with a blue-pink swimsuit under neon pink shorts, dragging a very disappointed Holly behind her complaining about how she hadn't gotten her promised spaghetti ice cream yet.

Mike´s back was turned to her, and Will hadn't noticed her yet so when she called they both jumped.

“Michael!” She barked at him.

“Mom..” Mike answered him, more confused than anything else.

“Am I…interrupting something?” She snarled, the sarcasm dripping from her words.

“No, not at all. We were just…”

“Chatting?” Will completed his sentence after an awkwardly long pause.

“Yes. Chatting.”

“Oh, spare me the bullshit. What happened to that nice girl, Jane?”

“Nothing happened to her.”

“Oh, so you´re just hanging with her brother for unrelated reasons?”

Mike was about to shoot something back, but Holly had apparently had enough of the conversation.

“Mom! You said I was going to get some spaghetti ice cream and I don´t know if you know this but I am not eating strawberry ice cream right now.” She said, as she crossed her arms angrily. Karen pointed at Mike.

“This is not over, young man. Let's talk about it tonight.” Then, she took her younger daughter's hand and stormed away like a dramatic teenager. Mike just turned to Will.

“You wanna get drunk?”

Will liked Mike. A lot. Like, a weird amount. If he was a slightly bigger romantic he´d probably wonder if they were soulmates. Really, being with Mike reminded him of watching his mom and Jim talk. It was all so easy and right and yeah, Will was big on saying the wrong things but Mike never actually took it the wrong way. And the Bowie cassette meant, like, a weird amount to him. He hadn't met someone that had listened to him like that since…well, ever.

Will and Mike´s hangouts went like this: They met in the mornings, hung out, talked, sunbathed, ate lunch, avoided their families, maybe met Jonathan and Jane or Nancy, ate dinner, sometimes they´d drink, sometimes they´d turn over the darkest corners of their hearts to each others but sometimes they´d just sit and talk about nothings. A future - together. They'd move to europe. Mike would write his books, and Will would paint and draw and somehow they´d survive. Really, they were living in this bubble and Will dreaded the day that the bubble would break. But also, Will didn't really believe this was real. They hadn't known each other long, but Will was an inch from being in love with him. Maybe love is just weird like that, or maybe Shakespeare wasn't that crazy.

Now, Will would never say this to him, but he felt for Mike. His dad was, seemingly, non-existent on this so-called family vacation of theirs, and his mom seemed to be very much occupied with the perfect family. There was this weight on Mike´s shoulders that Will couldn't really make sense of. In a way, Mike was a mystery to him. Will normally didn't like mysteries, Agatha Christie had never really captured his attention and spy movies were bland, but maybe Mike was a mystery he could get behind.

They were hanging out at the beach. It was late, and cold, and the sun had set hours ago, and Mike looked like he was about to cry. And Will just sat beside him and laid his head on Mike´s shoulder. Mike was that sort of person - he only spoke when he wanted to. And Will didn´t mind just sitting there, staring at the sea. The horizon was way off in the distance.

“Do you think any of our dreams will come true?” Mike asked. It was a sombre question. Will looked at him for a while, but then moved to be sitting opposite him.

“I do.”

“I'm not sure that I do.”

And that was that.

Chapter Text

Three weeks in the Italian countryside had taught Mike a lot of things, but to swim was the least expected one. He enjoyed it, really. Gliding through the water and getting a break from oxygen. It was nice. Of course, the hot guy sitting poolside watching him didn't hurt.

It was so late at night that it was really morning. The sun had just come up, and the air was crisp. It smelled like regret, Mike thought, which was up there with the most pretentious author thoughts he had had in a while.

Mike got out of the pool and sat next to Will. Will smiled at him. He looked like he was about to cry, and it broke Mike´s heart.

“Will you write to me?” Will whispered.

“Yeah.” Mike whispered back.

The air was the coldest it had been so far, despite it being well into August. It seemed fitting, really. The light in Mike's parents room was turned on, the first of all the rooms facing the mountainside.

“We never went to the castle on the mountainside.” Mike said it without thinking, but his voice broke before he got to the end of the sentence.

“Next time?”

“Next time.”

Will chuckled. Mike lay his head on Will´s shoulder and hugged him from the side. Mike felt like something great was being cut off before being given a chance to grow. Like their love was Nangijala and someone had come and cut down all the cherry blossoms before they bloomed. Or was about to. Really, he felt like someone was squeezing his heart so hard that he couldn't cry or talk or anything…he just sat there. With Will.

Walking away was so much harder than falling for him had been. For months after their summer Will would plague his mind, he'd think of him for every love song and every melodrama he read and all his stories were about love or a young artist who was so brave.

I can't tell you what happened to them, if they ever met again, if they lived happily ever after or if they had a messy breakup. But I can tell you this. After Mike walked away, Will spent the rest of his life looking forward, hoping to see Mike somewhere he´d least expect it. But Mike spent his life looking back, cherishing those memories and turning them into diamonds no one could ever touch. Pretty, polished - and changed.