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“You look happy.” He can’t help the words from tumbling out of his mouth. It’s been happening a lot recently, he supposes, his mouth speaking without his brain being able to properly keep up. But Mike does look happy, and so Will considers it a fair enough statement.
“I am.” Mike breaths and looks up from the comic resting on his bare knees. Will’s heart does a strange flutter at his easy smile, and he once again curses himself at being so utterly in love with the boy cramped up in a weird position at the foot of his bed, with a small smirk resting on his lips as he flips the pages.
It’s almost concerning to himself the way that his feelings for Mike have not once faltered in the four or so years since he had realised them. Not once has his overwhelming array of emotions ever turned down a notch or two, not that fateful night in the rain, nor that one painful week almost three years ago.
That’s one of the many things Will has realised he loves about Mike, the capacity of feelings he can evoke in him. Once upon a time Will had wanted to shut himself away from the world, had wanted to hide from anything that would ever been able to hurt him. But the boy curled opposite him didn’t allow it, in fact he had taken it upon himself to open Will up again, to let him feel things again.
Not to say that that didn’t have the occasional consequence, not to say that Will and Mike’s relationship has ever been perfect, I mean how can it be when Will has been yearning for Mike for as long as his heart can let him remember.
But their seventeen now, and even though Joyce reminds him that that is far from grown, neither Mike nor Will are clumsy fourteen- year- olds anymore, no longer attempting to navigate communicating a bunch of mixed-up feelings in the back of a pizza van. And they also no longer have to face interdimensional monsters that want to kill a load of teenagers.
Will has just about come through from the dark side of D&D monsters and overwhelming feelings for his best friend, and mostly unscathed. And although he remains deeply in love with Mike, he has come to terms with it, he no longer rolls it over in his mind like some sort of eight ball, and he can now accept this part of himself, this part that he had been battling with, this part that he thought would shatter the very ground he walks on. But he’s seventeen now, he knows who he is, he knows who Mike is and he knows who they are. And no ground is shattering underneath him anytime soon.
They’re best friends, and Will can push his feelings to one side because having Mike in his life is maybe his top priority.
“You look happy.” Mike teases back at him, setting down his comic on the bed.
“I am.” Will echoes, eyes glinting quietly. He really is.
They fall back into quiet again, as the birds outside whistle softly in the spring, and then “Do you remember your old house?” It’s a bit of a random question, but it’s Mike so Will isn’t all that surprised when he speaks into the silence.
He laughs, “It’s only been a few years, I’d be a bit concerned if I didn’t remember.”
“That’s a yes then.” Mike grins and Will rolls his eyes, setting down his sketchbook.
“Yes, that’s a yes. Why?”
“I don’t know, do you ever miss it?”
Does he miss it? He honestly tries to avoid his thoughts from turning to some of those memories, locked forever between his old four walls. “Uh not really, it feels like a while back.” Will pauses, not too sure what to say, “I mean it was home, but a lot of shit happened there, shit I’m not too fond of having to be reminded of.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” Mike nods looking a little contemplative.
A tad bemused, “Why?” Will adds. “I haven’t thought about that house for ages.”
“Your gonna laugh” and Will shrugs his shoulders, as if to say he can’t promise anything, “But one of my kitchen cupboard’s hinges fell off yesterday, and the squeak it made sounded almost exactly how one of your wardrobes did.” Will can’t help it he laughs because in what world would he not, this is the most Mike Wheeler thing Mike has ever come up with. Trust him to remember the noise that Will’s fucking wardrobe made three and a half yeas ago.
“How the fuck do you remember that?” Will giggles as Mike face twists into mock offense. “A noise from that long ago, how many times did you open my wardrobe Mike.”
“Shut up.” But he’s all smiles, Will can’t help but smile back at his slight idiocy. “I swear it was identical, I went to grab some eggos and suddenly got a flashback of every time I stole your clothes when we were like thirteen.”
This makes Will laugh a little more but now that he really thinks about it he can recall the slight groan of the wood every time it was opened. “Mike your so stupid.” But it’s affectionate and Mike knows it.
“I swear Will if you were there you would’ve been transported back in time.” He smirks up at him, “Life. Altering.”
And then Mike let’s out the biggest groan, and Will can only assume he’s attempting to make his lips move to mimic the sound that his mind had hazily supplied moments ago. And maybe it’s stupid how endearing the boy – nearly man- in front of him can be, even when he’s attempting to sound like a fucking cupboard. And what’s probably even more stupid is the fact that Will isn’t even phased by the way his whole body, mainly his heart warms at the smile tracing Mike’s lips that are eerily accurate in their ability to replicate inanimate object’s noises.
Eventually the cupboard noise fades and Will repeats to Mike that maybe he’s the dumbest person Will knows.
“Yeah but you love me”
He really does, “Yeah yeah Mike, keep telling yourself that.”
Mike pulls his face into an obnoxiously overdramatic gape that Will can just about mask a small laugh from. And as he stifles it, quite poorly mind you, Mike manages to crawl out of the cocoon he had created a few hours back, and launches himself very much into Will’s personal space, his face still contorted into false shock horror.
‘Pardon Byers?” Mike huffs, but it comes out all muffled because he has decidedly grabbed at Will’s waist in an attempt to tickle an unsuspecting victim. And even though Mike may be slowly become the most annoying thorn in Will’s side, he can’t help but relish in the contact, can’t help but relish in the warmth from Mike’s long fingers digging into his torso.
But the feeling is soon gone. Will’s body contorts in jolts, and he finds himself laughing in short, ragged breaths, all while Mike breathes in his face and matches the giggle caught somewhere at the back of his throat.
It’s one of Will’s biggest downfalls, being ticklish, because in more recent years he has become susceptible to attacks like this one, and not just from Mike either, the whole party knows his annoying weakness and are forever resorting to temporarily paralyse him whenever they deem it necessary. Although Will knows he may become noticeably more flushed when the perpetrator is a certain Mike Wheeler.
Like now for example, when Mike is practically straddling him and Will can feel his heart physically falling deeper and deeper with the glowing reddish face looming above his own. Mike will certainly be the death of him.
His insistent fingers crawl their way up and down Will’s torso, feeling every sensitive point of contact, and Mike’s face pulls progressively further and further into a smirk each time Will jerks under his touch. It would feel kind of intimate if not for the torture of his cruel hands.
Eventually, after regaining a little bit of composure Will just about huffs out, “I surrender- please- I surrender” A couple of deep sighs from the both them later, Mike gives in.
“Say you love me then.” He teases, probably not noticing the way Will’s eyes flit to another part of his face.
“Friends don’t lie.” Will teases back, using Mike’s precious phrase right back at him.
He glares down in mock offense and retracts his fingers from Will’s waist, his hands fold on top of his chest, rising and falling as his breath even out. “Say it.”
Will smirks underneath him, and then shakes his head, adamant and vaguely aware that his hair is probably spread messily all over his pillow and how his cheeks have suddenly grown a deep shade under Mike’s unwavering gaze.
“I’m not moving until you say you love me.” Something shifts in the space between them, something hot and static and a little too tempting. Will thinks for a second or two, takes in the predicament he’s in, Mike’s hands dropping and settling just next to his hip bones, enough so that Will can practically feel the warmth of them lingering, burning into his skin. Mike is still sitting on him, a little awkwardly but he’s stubborn as hell, has been since Will had met him, so his gaze doesn’t falter as Will writes a determind look over his features.
“Say it.” Mike whispers, but this time his words drip with a sincerity that hadn’t been there before. His voice is lower, and Will doesn’t think about the effect this is having on him. In fact, Will doesn’t know what to think, this tension that has suddenly appeared isn’t unusual for them, but this time Will isn’t sure he’s going to be able to pretend that Mike isn’t turning his very insides into jelly with each lingering second.
“Looks like you’re not moving then.” Will manages to speak into the quiet, feeling a little bit brave. He settles his hand next to where Mike’s have fallen limp, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the energy surging between the two of them.
Mike just quirks an eyebrow, and it catches on his stupid hair and Will is a little embarrassed at how seeing something so quintessentially Mike is making him melt, is making him go all soft and gooey in the middle. “Yeah?” It’s so quiet that if their faces weren’t mere inches apart Will may have had to ask Mike to repeat himself.
He nods, not quite trusting that his voice is going to be anything other than coherent. Instead, he lets out a small shaky breath and Mike is looking at him in total seriousness, a look in his eyes that Will isn’t too sure he would be able to describe, maybe it’s something akin to longing, a question swimming up to the surface, one that Will would never say no to.
And Mike shifts a little, but it’s so much so that they are close, really close, breathes mingling and Will edges his hands closer so that Mike’s fingers just about tangle with his own. Mike’s hair falls slightly now, framing his face softly and Will itches to reach out and tuck it behind his ear, to press his fingers over Mike’s freckles, to feel the warmth of his skin up close.
“Mike” He’s not sure if he’s asking or begging, but whatever option Mike seems to catch on and he leans slightly further over Will, so much so that if he really put his mind to it, Will could probably just about make out the quiet beat of Mike’s heart.
Will nods, just in case he has read this entire exchange embarrassingly wrong. But he hasn’t, because Mike’s lips nudge Will’s open and his whole mouth is warm with Mike. His lips are soft and gentle and everything so totally Mike that his whole body warms with the sensation of knowing that this is what his best friend tastes like. His hands without any command pull Mike closer and skim up his torso, touching, memorising. They pull apart, and Mike looks peaceful, eyes glazed with what Will can only describe as happiness, so much so that Will has the wonderful idea of kissing him again.
And so he does, this time tracing his tongue, letting Mike deepen the kiss and letting him lose himself in Mike Mike Mike.
Kissing Mike is everything, kissing Mike is the first drops of rain after everlasting summers, kissing Mike is coming home after a long time away, kissing Mike is every minute at the quarry rolled into one.
‘I love you.” Will pauses, a little breathes but saying no word of a lie. “But please don’t get off of me.”
Mike just laughs, but obliges, pulling him into another warm kiss, mumbling ‘I love you’ between breaths.