Chapter Text
Mike didn’t mean for it to happen.
Not like this. Not with shaky hands and the taste of alcohol on his tongue. Not with guilt twisting in his stomach even before his lips found Will’s skin.
But here he was.
The party had been loud, crowded. Red solo cups everywhere, music too heavy with bass. Lucas had disappeared into the kitchen with Max, El had left early, and Dustin had been locked in an animated debate with some senior about Star Wars. Mike wasn’t even sure why he’d come in the first place—except that Will had been there. And that had been reason enough.
Now they were in the mansion’s backyard, it was quiet, except for the sound of fireflies and crickets. They’d walked back together, neither wanting to stay at the party any longer. The cold air had sobered them a little, but not enough. Not enough to stop it.
Mike had felt it for months—years even. That strange pull whenever Will was too close, the way his heart beat too fast when their arms brushed. He didn’t talk about it. He didn’t even let himself think about it. Because thinking about it meant admitting something he wasn’t ready for.
And Will—God, Will had always been different. Always looking at him like he knew something Mike didn’t, like he was waiting for Mike to catch up. But now, standing here in the dim moonlight, Will looked just as unsure as he felt.
Mike had reached for him without thinking. Maybe because he was drunk. Maybe because he was tired of pretending. His hands had found Will’s shoulders, then his jaw, then—
His lips brushed Will’s neck, barely a breath of contact, but it was enough to make them both freeze.
Will’s breath hitched. “Mike…?”
Mike didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His heart was hammering in his chest, his fingers tightening where they clutched Will’s shirt. He should stop. He should step back, laugh it off, pretend it never happened.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he pressed another kiss to Will’s skin, slower this time, and Will—Will let him.
A small sound escaped from Will’s throat, something caught between a sigh and a gasp, and Mike felt his stomach twist. He wanted this. He shouldn’t. But he did.
And Will—God, Will wanted it too.
Mike pulled back slightly, their faces inches apart. Will’s eyes were wide, searching, lips parted like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Mike swallowed hard. His head was spinning, and not just from the alcohol.
“This is—” Will started, then stopped.
“It’s okay.” Mike said, voice barely above a whisper.
Will’s hands hovered at Mike’s waist, hesitant, unsure. “We shouldn’t.”
Mike nodded, but his hands were still gripping Will’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping him steady. “I know.”
They stood there, too close, the air between them thick with something neither of them could name. And then, before Mike could overthink it, before Will could pull away, he leaned in again.
And this time, Will met him halfway.
It wasn’t perfect. It was messy and clumsy, their teeth knocking awkwardly before they found a rhythm. Mike’s hands slid up to Will’s face, pulling him closer, and Will’s fingers fisted in the fabric of Mike’s hoodie.
It was everything Mike had been trying not to think about for what feels like a lifetime.
And then—
Laughter echoed from inside the mansion, a reminder that the world still existed beyond them. A reminder that this—whatever this was—couldn’t happen.
Will was the first to pull back, breathless, his face still inches from Mike’s. His hands stayed curled in Mike’s hoodie like he wasn’t ready to let go, but his eyes—his eyes were filled with something terrified.
Mike’s stomach dropped. “Will…”
Will shook his head quickly. “We—” He let out a shaky breath, stepping back. The loss of his warmth was immediate, like cold air rushing in through a crack in the door. “We can’t.”
Mike knew he was right. But his body betrayed him, already leaning forward, already desperate to close the distance again. “Why not?” he whispered.
Will’s breath hitched, his grip on Mike’s hoodie tightening before he forced himself to let go. He looked away, staring somewhere past Mike’s shoulder, like he couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. “Because it’s you, Mike.”
Mike clenched his fists. His head was still foggy, still warm from the alcohol, but Will was slipping away from him, and he hated it. “Will, I—”
“Don’t.” Will’s voice cracked. “You’re drunk, Mike. We both are.”
“I—”
The back door creaked open before Mike could argue.
“Mike?”
They jumped apart like they’d been caught committing a crime.
Lucas stood in the doorway, squinting at them through the dim light. His brows furrowed, taking in the space between them, the way Will looked like he wanted to disappear, the way Mike’s hands were still half-raised like he’d just let go of something important.
“What are you guys doing out here?” Lucas asked.
Will swallowed hard. “Nothing.” His voice was too fast, too tight. He took another step back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I—I should go.”
“Will—”
But Will was already turning, walking quickly toward the side gate of the mansion.
Mike took half a step forward, instinct screaming at him to go after him, to fix this, but Lucas grabbed his arm.
“Dude,” Lucas said, his voice low. “What the hell just happened?”
Mike didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His throat felt tight, his heart pounding. He stared after Will, the sound of retreating footsteps blending into the hum of the crickets.
His lips still tingled.
His stomach churned.
And the guilt? The shame?
It was already setting in.