Work Text:
“What’re you drawing?”
Mike watches in amusement as his best friend almost jumps, startled by being approached like this, the state of mind Will always gets into when he sketches being interrupted by a sudden question.
“Jesus Christ, we should really put a bell on you.”
Mike rolls his eyes in reply to the bite and just welcomes himself to sit next to Will, reaching out his hand to stop him from closing the sketchbook.
“Let me?”
Mike asks softly, the same tone of his voice that he’s only ever associated with Will, the one exposing the gentle frame of his heart, painted with care and kindness. The soft undertone of best friends, a team and cool, the one that’s definitely been heard more often since Mike finally stopped caring about upholding his image of the perfect boyfriend to El, ever since they let the long time coming breakup see the light of the day, ever since he decided that becoming MikeandWill again is more important than dodging his father’s no proper girl will ever want you if you keep acting gay, Michael complaints.
“Nothing important. Just - doodling, I guess.”
Will tries his best to hide the drawing away, putting his hand over the still open page. Mike can’t help but let his eyes linger on the way his best friend’s cheeks turn an addictive shade of red, when his hand gets covered by a slightly bigger one.
“Please.”
Will quickly shuffles his hand away from under Mike’s grasp, taking the advantage of the flustered state the touch finds Mike in to yank the sketchbook away and close it quickly.
“Stop flirting, Jesus. Some of us are enjoying the romance on screen.”
Dustin elbows Mike in the stomach from where he’s sat on the floor in front of the couch in Mike’s basement, along with the rest of the Party. With the exception of Max, who - hopefully not for much longer, considering that El is still relentlessly looking for her in her mind - is still in the coma.
It’s an all in all fairly average day - well, as average as it can be in the middle of the world ending - with the quietness that they rarely have the luxury of getting lately.
“We are not flirting!”
Will protests quickly, elbowing Mike as well, which - first of all - unfair and ow! But more importantly, second of all, Mike is flirting, thank you very much. He has been for months, it’s not his fault Will is not picking up on any of it at all. It was easy - settling back into their old dynamic, the gentle touches, the brushes of their hands, the teasing undertone of their conversations. Mike missed it. He missed them. He wants more, wants all of it, everything that Will is still too scared to admit. That Mike hopes Will wants too, but is simply not ready to cross the line they’ve both been tiptoeing on for far too long.
“Sure, man.”
Lucas rolls his eyes at the two of them and Mike waits for everyone to turn back to the screen, before he takes the leap of bothering Will again.
“Hey.”
Mike whispers right next to Will’s ear, reveling in the way his best friend’s tanned skin shivers, all the way from his shoulder to the little mole under his jaw.
“It’s your hand.”
Mike notices in bewilderment, frowning as he sneaks another peek at the gray image forming under Will’s pencil. It is Will’s hand, but it’s not the full truth. There are two hands, their fingers interlaced in an intimate gesture. Mike recognises Will’s hand, the scar on the back of it, the callousness of it caused by all the years of holding a pencil - or a gun lately - everything that Mike would know anywhere. It’s Will. He doesn’t know who the owner of the other hand is, though, a much more slender one, the one which thumb presses to the inside of Will’s hand on the paper, the long fingers wrapping themselves around the familiar wrist.
“It’s just a drawing.”
Will is defensive, instantly closing the sketchbook and wrapping his fingers around the edges to the point of his knuckles going white. Will is defensive, his eyes wide and almost scared in a way that Mike hasn’t seen since he stopped fucking them up long months ago. Will is defensive, looking down at his lap and biting the inside of his cheek. Mike can feel his heart practically fall to his stomach, the unpleasant, familiar thought of he’s not yours making him freeze in his place. Will is defensive, this isn’t just a drawing. He likes someone.
“You have a crush.”
Mike wants to cry, every single one of those four words tastes like poison on his tongue.
“You like someone?”
The chorus of three voices along with the sudden pause in the sound of the tv playing in the background pull Mike out of the hole of self pity he’s already started digging, right before he’s managed to bury himself alive.
“I - no! It’s not like that.”
Will grimaces under the scrutiny of four disbelieving expressions before just signing in defeat.
“Maybe.”
Mike watches with a sad smile, when his best friend reluctantly lets go of the sketchbook, allowing Lucas, Dustin and El to take a look at the entire reason Mike wants to skip countries. Bury himself alive. Rip all of his hair out and - yeah, everybody gets the gist.
Will has a crush. Mike thinks that being in love might be the worst thing humanity has ever had to experience. Whatever.
“Is that-“
El doesn’t get to finish her sentence, because Will promptly shoots her a sharp look, his eyes jumping over to Mike sitting next to him for milliseconds.
“Shut up.”
Will hisses at his sister, raising his eyebrows and risking a quick glance at Mike in a way that practically screams with the hope of not being figured out. He’s got nothing to worry, though, not when Mike’s braincells are too busy crashing into the inside of his skull in a desperate attempt to die before having to endure more of the conversation about Will not being his.
“Is that the perfect guy for you?”
Lucas teases Will gently, fully turning to the two boys sitting on the couch and stealing looks at Mike, almost full of amusement that Mike doesn’t even begin to try to understand. There’s nothing amusing about him having to witness the love of his life talking about another guy. Not when they’re finally in a good place, not when they’ve finally begun being MikeandWill again, not when Will came out to the Party a few months ago, igniting the long since buried hopes in Mike’s heart of all the maybe’s so carefully tucked under wraps.
“Yeah, come on, Will. Your type is what? Long fingers that can hold your hand? Anything else?”
El chimes in, full of lightness, seemingly unaware of the tension that has spread out between the soft pillows on the couch, the tense air that can be cut with a knife, right between where Will ends and Mike begins.
“Is there a chance of me getting out of this?”
Mike shakes his head in response, turning the attention back onto himself, forcefully pulling himself out of the spiral of self pity. He can be happy for Will. He will be. God knows his best friend deserves something good in his life, Mike is just gonna have to come to terms with it not being him. With not being the something good Will deserves, with having to settle for the maybe’s and what if’s he’s already so used to turning over in his head.
“Aw, dude, come on. We wanna hear about your man.”
Will sighs, exasperated and decidedly wanting to be anywhere but here.
“Fine.”
Will is about to describe the guy he likes, probably some stupid, muscular jock, who doesn’t know him like Mike does, doesn’t love Will like Mike does. The world is turning. Mike is gonna die. Nothing new.
“Um, we’ve been friends for - a long time.”
Mike has been Will’s best friend since they were five. He was his first ever friend. Asking Will to be his friend was the best thing he’s ever done but - yeah, sure. Will and the stupid, probably incredibly hot guy have been friends for a long time. That’s fine, Mike’s fine.
“He’s really caring, I guess? Protective, maybe, would be the better term for it. He’s tall and really, really attractive. Like - has this curly hair that he lets me braid sometimes and he makes me laugh a lot, I guess.”
Mike lets Will braid his hair, too, always enjoying having him close, the gentleness of the artist's hands relaxing him and making him feel safer. It’s their thing. Stupid guy, who doesn’t understand Will like Mike does, doesn’t appreciate him like Mike does. Doesn’t have a binder full of his art, doesn’t know about the nervous tells Will has, hasn’t bought rings specifically to wear them for Will to fidget with.
“He’s my best friend.”
Will shrugs, flustered, scared to make eye contact with anyone and completely unaware of the sound Mike’s heart makes when it breaks at the sentence, leaving Mike stripped bare of everything, even the title he’s worn proudly for years now. Will’s best friend. Mike - well, not anymore.
“I thought I was your best friend.”
Mike mumbles under his breath, letting bitter cracks appear in between the letters, breaking at the seams and pushing the wetness to the backs of Mike’s eyes.
“Oh, my god, come on now!”
Mike looks up at the sound of the groan and risks a quick glance at his friends, who all look like they want to simultaneously bash their head through the nearest wall.
“You’re hopeless.”
El snorts at Mike with way too much audacity for someone talking to a guy, who’s currently listening to the love of his life describe the guy he’s in love with. Mike flips her off in a gesture of mercy, saving the world from having to hear what he’d actually want to reply, none of which is an appropriate way to speak to a girl. Even he knows that - so the middle finger it is.
“Mike.”
Will whispers to him after a moment, once they’re both sure that the attention is away from them, all three of their friends going back to staying glued to the tv to watch the last moments of some shitty rom-com.
“Mhm.”
Will carefully scoots closer, pulling his knees close to his chest and leaning against his best friend in a way that Mike is sure sets at least a little bit of his skin on fire. Just where their shoulders are touching, making it impossible for Mike to stop himself from maneuvering his arm around Will, pulling him closer.
“Give me your hand.”
Will takes a hold of it without even waiting for the reply, making Mike’s breath catch at the ease with which their fingers interlace.
“Look.”
Mike glances down and lets his jaw drop, when his eyes are met with the sight of an open sketchbook, a perfect resemblance of their hearts interwoven in the form of their hands, the paper version of it all.
“Oh.”
Mike blinks, experimentally pressing his thumb to the inside of his best friend’s wrist, mimicking the way the long, slender fingers of a stranger wrap around the calloused hand on the drawing. No, not ones of a stranger. They’re Mike’s.
Oh, my god.
“You are my best friend.”
Mike can’t stop a bright smile from spreading on his face, a giddy and all consuming one, making his eyes light up and a dimple appear in his left cheek.
“I’m in love with you.”
He offers quietly, pressing his nose to the top of Will’s head, taking in the fact that he’s allowed to do it, loving the gentle tickle of Will’s hair against his skin.
“I figured it out, when you started looking like you were gonna throw up at the thought of me liking someone.”
Mike shrugs his shoulders in reply to the teasing. It’s true. He can’t bring himself to care even a little bit. They’re holding hands, Will is tightly pressed to Mike’s side on the couch and the world is still turning. Will was drawing them.
“I love you.”
Mike reiterates, stealing a quick glance at their friends, who seem to be fully encompassed in the movie just starting to end, before he nudges Will’s nose with his own, revelling in the way he can feel Will’s pulse under the thumb still pressed to his wrist.
“I love you.”
Will echoes back quietly, letting their lips brush together, his eyes closing at the gentleness of the touch. Will was drawing their hands, Mike is in love with him, they’re kissing on the couch in Mike’s basement, their friends sitting right next to them. The world is turning.
“You’re welcome to draw me any time you want, by the way.”
Mike presses a kiss to the beautiful mole above Will’s upper lip, his nose, his temple, both eyebrows, pulling him closer, interweaving their hearts together and resting his cheek on the top of his head, feigning ignorance at the amused looks they’re getting from the rest of the Party. Bunch of traitors.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Mike brushes his thumb over the inside of Will’s wrist again, more than satisfied with the resemblance to the drawing.
Will was drawing their hands. Mike is in love with him. They’re holding hands and kissing, giggling into each other’s mouths at another exasperated groan from one of their friends. Will is in love with Mike too. The world is turning.