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They had just gotten back to the house. Mike couldn’t remember how. Only fragments remained. Clinging close to Will, holding him up and helping him into the car… or was it Will helping him? He wasn’t sure.
Now he sat on the couch in the basement, Will standing above him, explaining something with a frantic look on his face.
Everyone else was upstairs, cleaning up blood, trying to collect their minds, finding a place to think, to talk.
Loud voices rose, and that’s when Mike realized he wasn’t listening to Will. He wasn’t even looking at him. The only thing he could think about was the moment when Will got his powers. How perfect he looked. How he could see the sweat on his face, the slow rising chest, the blood dripping down his face. Even standing so far away, he could feel the heat of his body, the energy rising from it.
He wanted to see it again. To feel it again. Closer this time. More intense.
Mike swallowed hard, words dissolving on his tongue before they could form. Will was still talking, but Mike’s mind was nowhere near normal. It was back in the smoke-filled base, in that unreal light that had wrapped around Will like a halo. Fragile and terrifying.
He remembered the way Will had looked at him then, dazed but alive, eyes bright as if lit from the inside. Power hummed beneath his skin, crackling through the air between them like a live wire.
Now Will stood right in front of him, close enough that Mike could see the tiny freckles on his cheek, the faint scars that hadn’t fully disappeared. No glow. No trembling energy. Just Will. Soft-spoken. Warm. Real.
And somehow that was worse.
Because the part of Mike that kept replaying that night wasn’t satisfied. It wanted more. He wanted to be close enough to feel Will’s breath on his neck, to see that power flare again under his fingertips. To know if the rush he felt back then was fear or something entirely different.
He needed it. He was sick with it.
Mike felt it in his chest, low and urgent, a heat that had nothing to do with fear. Every memory of Will glowing, trembling with power, made his pulse spike in ways he wasn’t sure he could control. He wanted to be closer. His thoughts tangled with guilt, with desire, and he hated how powerless it made him feel.
“Mike?” Will asked, and Mike flinched, dragged abruptly back to the present. Will’s eyes searched his, confused but patient, always patient.
“Are you okay? You spaced out.”
Mike opened his mouth, but nothing could form. How could he explain that he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Will had burned like a star? That he wanted to be near him when it happened again, closer than he had any right to be, even if it could kill him?
His heart thudded, too loud, too fast.
“I- yeah,” Mike lied, voice rough. “Just… thinking.”
Will raised his eyebrows. “About the plan?”
Mike stared at him for a beat too long. No, he thought. About you.
“Yeah,” he let out a shaky breath. “It sounds great.” He started to stand. “I have to pee.”
Mike ran across the room to the bathroom, throwing himself at the cold sink, trying to feel anything else but this feeling inside him.
The air felt thick, too thick, and his body ached in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion. He pressed himself to the sink, trying to anchor the storm inside him, but every thought of Will’s face, the intensity of that night, made his stomach twist and a strange heat coil low in his body. He wanted to feel that again, right here, right now, impossibly close.
The world was falling apart outside these basement walls. His parents lay in hospital beds. Monsters existed, powers existed, and he should be terrified. He should be focused. He should be anyone else.
And yet, none of that mattered right now. His mind refused to obey him. Every thought returned to Will, to the heat, the power, the light that had lit him up like he was the only person in the world who could see it, the only person who could hold it without breaking.
A sharp knock broke through his thoughts.
“Mike?” Will’s voice was right outside the door. Too close. Soft, worried. “You okay?”
Mike squeezed his eyes shut so hard it hurt.
He heard the door open. “Are you hurt?” Will’s voice was soft, almost tender. Mike let out a laugh that sounded hollow even to him.
“No,” he said, unable to open his eyes.
Maybe if he did, if he really looked, he’d find something wrong with Will. Some flaw. Some imperfection. Anything that could pull him out of this misery. But there was nothing. Only Will. Always Will.
He felt a hand on his arm. “Are you scared?”
He shook his head.
“I mean, of course you’re scared. With everything that happened. And I’m only talking about myself and the plan-”
Will paused, words dying in his throat. Mike could feel him searching for the right thing to say. That familiar patience, that gentle concern, made Mike’s chest ache worse.
“Look at me,” Will said softly.
Mike’s fingers tightened around the edge of the sink. He didn’t move.
“Please?”
He forced his eyes open.
No glow. No power. Just Will.
It should have helped. It didn’t. It was worse.
Will stood inches away. Close enough that Mike could see the worry etched between his brows, the faint smudge of dried blood along his jaw. Close enough that Mike could feel his breath on his face.
Mike’s gaze flicked to Will’s lips for a fraction of a second, and a jolt went through him, sharp and urgent. He could feel the pull in his chest, in his limbs, a craving that wasn’t just for comfort or closeness.
“Talk to me,” Will whispered, his hand sliding down Mike’s arm, fingers curling around his wrist. Grounding him. “You’ve barely said two words since we got back.”
Mike swallowed. His voice felt trapped behind his heartbeat. “I just… I can’t think.”
Will nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”
But he didn’t. Not really. Will thought Mike was overwhelmed by everything - the blood, the hospital, the danger, the world ending.
He didn’t know Mike was drowning in him. Drowning in something he shouldn’t even admit existed.
“I’m here,” Will said, squeezing his wrist gently. “You don’t have to handle this alone.”
Something twisted inside Mike. Want and guilt tangled together until he couldn’t tell them apart. He wanted to step forward, into Will’s space. He wanted to feel that electricity again. Not the memory, the real thing. Alive. Thrumming under his skin.
Instead, he forced himself to stay still.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Mike managed, voice a rasp. “Not with me like this.”
Will’s brows knit. “Like what?”
Mike opened his mouth, but nothing came out. No explanation that wouldn’t sound insane. No truth that wouldn’t expose the hunger curling hot in his lungs.
Will took a half-step closer. “Mike,” he said gently, searching his eyes like he might find answers there, “are you sure you’re not scared?”
Mike let out a broken, humorless laugh. “I’m terrified. Just… not of what you think.”
Will’s breath caught slightly, enough for Mike to notice.
“Are you scared of me?” he whispered.
“No,” Mike said sharply, his whole body shaking at the thought. “Never. Never of you.” He held Will’s gaze.
“Then what?” Will asked, voice barely audible. “Mike, you can tell me.”
Mike’s voice came out thin. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because if I say it,” Mike whispered, “I don’t know if I can take it back.”
“What does that even mean?” Will rolled his eyes.
Mike smiled at that. He lived for that impatience, that spark only a few people could pull from Will.
“Will… do you remember when we met?”
Will went still, eyes flickering with recognition, surprise, something unguarded and vulnerable.
“I do.” He slowly let go of Mike’s wrist.
Mike swallowed hard. “I told you this before, you probably don’t remember, but I…” He bit his lip. “Will, I felt so alone then.”
He stepped closer, pulled by gravity he couldn’t fight.
“I was so little, but I can still remember when I saw you.”
The word you came out heavy, reverent, breaking something open in his chest. His eyes burned.
“You were alone too. And I just…” Mike exhaled, shaky. “I asked if you wanted to be my friend.”
Will’s breath caught. “I remember,” he said again, steady now.
After all this time. After everything. He remembered.
Mike’s chest tightened. “Will,” he breathed, “that’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”
Will’s expression faltered, a crack in the calm. Something too heavy for his face to hold.
He looked away briefly, like it hurt to meet Mike’s eyes.
“You always say things like that,” Will murmured. “Like you don’t even realize what they do to me.”
Mike blinked. That wasn’t the response he expected.
“What do you mean?”
“Mike,” his name sounded clipped, frustrated. “You’re impossible. You drive me insane.”
Mike’s hands twitched. “Will, I can’t… I didn’t mean to-”
Will’s eyes softened for a moment, just enough for Mike to think he might collapse into him, then the storm returned. “You never listen! You never see me until it’s too late, until I’m the one standing here like… you’re so dumb!”
Mike’s jaw dropped. “I’m not dumb!”
“So why are you telling me all this?”
“Because I wanted you to know!”
“Know what exactly?”
“That I love you!”
Mike’s heart pounded. Will’s eyes softened, darkened, lips parted slightly.
“You… love me?” Will whispered, low, rough, disbelieving.
“Yes!”
“Like a… brother?”
Mike froze. “Are you serious right now?”
Will blinked, expecting an answer. Mike’s hands flexed, heat and longing spiraling. “Like a brother? Do you even hear yourself?!”
Then something snapped. All the frustration, all the longing, all the fire boiled over. Mike didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to argue.
He leaned in and kissed Will, fast and reckless.
Will froze, stiff as a board. Hands hovering at Mike’s sides.
Mike felt the sharp rush of his pulse, the heat curling through him, and then reality hit.
Oh shit.
He pulled back abruptly, face flushed. Waiting for Will to react.
Mike’s stomach twisted. “You’re… smiling!”
Will chuckled softly, still grinning. “You are impossible.”
Mike groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I know! I know! I can’t… ugh!”
Mike’s hands went to Will’s shoulders, gripping, trembling, while Will’s hands found his waist and then his back, holding him close.
They leaned in again, foreheads almost touching, breaths heavy and mingling.
Mike closed the last inch between them, pressing their lips together in a fierce, desperate kiss.
It took him by surprise how much it felt right. How Will’s lips so easily matched his.
Will pressed him against the sink, hands gripping his collar, deepening the kiss.
The tension slipped away from Mike’s shoulders. The heaviness in his chest from just a minute ago vanished, replaced by something light and overwhelming, like Will had taken all the bad things out and replaced them with something better.
Mike’s mind flickered back to that memory, when Will had been kneeling on the ground in that base.
Even as he pulled back, chest heaving, Mike could still feel it, the lingering heat, the sharp pulse of his own want, mixed with awe at Will’s touch. His body remembered every second of it, every brush of lips, every subtle press, and it made him ache all over again.
“Are you still scared?” Will smiled at him.
“Never with you.”
Mike’s hands trembled as he reached up to Will again, unable to resist the pull.
“I can’t do this slowly,” Mike muttered, voice low, rough. “Not with you. Not anymore.”
Will swallowed, eyes darkening, lips parting slightly. “Good,” he said, voice husky. “That’s good.”
Before Mike could respond, a loud shout came from upstairs. “Mike! Will! Are you guys coming or what?”
The sudden noise made them snap apart, and reality hit like a punch. Mike’s back was pressed against the cold sink, Will uncomfortably close, one of his thighs pressed between Mike’s legs. Both froze for a second, wide-eyed, suddenly aware of how intimate their position had become.
“You go… I need a second,” Mike muttered, sliding slightly onto the toilet to hide himself, cheeks burning.
Will ran a hand through his hair, eyes dark and his lips twitching with a smirk. “I love you too, by the way,” he said, voice low, before finally heading upstairs.