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“Do you think I’m a bad person?”
Will’s head snaps in Mike’s direction, a look of absolute confusion on his face. The question was rather out of the blue. Neither of them have spoken for the past thirty minutes, instead choosing to do their own separate things in silence on opposite sides of the couch. “What?”
Mike doesn’t elaborate. He’s too busy listening to the thoughts that are swirling around in his brain. He’s all too familiar with them by now, given how frequently they invade his consciousness. You’re a horrible brother. You’re an even worse friend. No one really likes you; you’ve just tricked everyone into putting up with you. You’re a manipulator like that.
“Mike, what are you talking about?” Will asks again, breaking him from his internal spiral.
Mike meets his eyes cautiously, not wanting to give away too much. If Will really knew what went on in his mind, he’d be mad. He’s aware of a bit of it, obviously. He knows about Mike’s insecurities with his appearance, and how he tends to think he’s stupider than he actually is. The hatred, though— that’s a secret. As are the horrible, monstrous emotions he keeps locked inside.
“Just— I don’t know,” Mike shrugs, glancing over at the far side of the room, just so he won’t have to watch Will’s expression shift to concern. He doesn’t even know why he brought this up. Well— maybe he does. He could feel the telltale signs of panic; the nails clawing at the inside of his heart, begging to be released. An innate, primal hunger was growing. A hunger that can be quelled with one simple thing: sympathy. Mike couldn’t resist begging for it. He will always be a glutton for sympathy.
Will scoots closer to him, pressing their thighs together. He wraps an arm around Mike’s waist, shaking him slightly. The scratching sensation stops, replaced by a blooming warmth deep in his heart. He feels like a vicious, misbehaving dog, who can only be satiated by his human’s loving touch. It merely fuels his disgust. He shouldn’t be rewarded right now.
Will doesn’t say anything; he just stares at Mike with those big, understanding eyes. Mike has never been able to hold out against those. The truth escapes his mouth without permission.
“Holly is getting an award at school today.”
Will waits for more, but nothing comes. “That’s great,” he says.
Mike groans, dropping his head into his hands and using them to cover his face. He should stay hidden forever. He doesn’t deserve to be seen.
“What?” Will asks, brushing his palm against Mike’s slouched back. He hates how cared for it makes him feel. “Is it bad?”
“No,” Mike says, voice strained and muffled by his hands. “It’s good. It’s great.” It is great. That’s what any normal person would say if their baby sister received an award for academics. It’s good. He’s glad.
“Alright,” he says, clearly not believing Mike’s words for a second. “What’s wrong?”
Mike peeks out from behind his fingers. Seeing nothing but warmth on Will’s face, he sits back with a huff, ready to spill his guts. “I got mad. Not outwardly, of course— I’m not a complete ass. But— I don’t know. I just felt a sudden wave of… rage. And jealousy, I guess. It makes me so irrationally angry knowing that my parents are out celebrating her right now instead of me.
“And I know that’s not fair. She earned this— she deserves to be celebrated. I don’t. I’ve done nothing to be celebrated for. I wish I had. I wish I was the one earning a reward instead of her.” Mike closes his eyes in shame, tipping his head back toward the ceiling. “Is that selfish? It’s definitely selfish.”
Will is quiet for a moment too long. Mike fucked up. He’s shown too much of himself. Will is going to realize that he’s not the hero people paint him out to be. He’s just some asshole that wants to strip awards away from little girls.
Slowly, a hand comes to rest on the side of Mike’s cheek. It coaxes his head to the side gently. When he blinks his eyes open, they meet Will’s soft gaze. He looks sad. Disappointed in Mike, no doubt. Is this the end of them? The straw that finally forces Will to break up with him? The stone that shatters the perfect illusion Will has created of him?
Will’s thumb carefully swipes over his cheekbone. “I don’t think you’re selfish.”
“You don’t?” Mike asks, eyebrows drawing in surprise.
“No,” he says. It doesn’t sound like a lie. But then, what’s with his frown? “I think you need attention. And you’re clearly not getting any.”
Mike’s claws manage to puncture a hole in his heart, sharp and painful. He nearly jerks back at the visceral sensation. “I— what?”
“You don’t have to deserve attention, Mike. That should just be a given— especially from your parents. No wonder you’re craving it.”
Mike is lost. He physically shakes himself out of it, hoping that it might clear his mind. “No— Will, you don’t understand. I don’t want attention. I’m trying to steal it. From my sister. For no reason.”
Will shoots him a look that says he thinks Mike is being silly. “Let me ask you this,” he says, and doesn’t wait for a reply. “If you were stranded in a desert, dying of dehydration, and your mom had one water bottle to share between the five of you, would you be mad if she gave it all to Holly?”
“Well… she’s the youngest. She probably needs it more than me—“
“Mike!” Will groans, throwing his head back in exasperation. “Come on! Work with me here.”
“Fine! Yes, I’d be mad,” he answers honestly. He feels instantly guilty for it. How could he ever be mad that someone else gets to live?
Will notices immediately, grabbing Mike’s face with both of his hands and giving him a kiss on the nose. Mike’s growing frustration melts away. “You stubborn, self-sacrificial idiot.”
That doesn’t make Mike feel any better, but the smile on Will’s lips as he pulls back does. Just a bit.
“Hey,” he says with a pout.
Will grabs ahold of his hand, giving it a squeeze. His smile turns a little fake around the edges. “Can we have a sort of serious talk?” he asks. Mike doesn’t like that tone. It sends a shiver down his spine.
“I guess,” he says anyway.
Will wraps his other hand around Mike’s, cradling it in warmth and love. He stares down at it as he takes a breath, and Mike can’t tell if he’s purposefully avoiding his gaze, or if he’s trying to organize his thoughts. “Mike,” he says, as if his name holds all the weight in the world, then slowly, graciously meets Mike’s worried eyes. “Your parents are neglecting you.”
Mike nearly scoffs. No— scratch that. He does scoff, yanking his hand from his grasp. “That’s not funny, Will.”
“I’m not joking,” Will says, sounding almost offended that Mike would think he is. He doesn’t— that’s what’s concerning. Will clearly isn’t joking. He truly believes his words, which means that he’s fully gone off the deep end. “I’ve wanted to say something for a while, but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.
Astoundingly well, obviously. This has gone over fantastically. “Come on, Will. It’s not like that. In case you weren’t aware, I’m not actually dying of dehydration.”
Will rolls his eyes, but Mike can tell that it’s in good nature. He scoots impossibly closer on the sofa, closing the minuscule gap that Mike must have subconsciously put between them during their little disagreement. “I know that. But neglect is more than food and water. You have other needs.”
Mike mimics his eye roll. His is not so teasing. “Right. Because attention is vital to my survival.”
“It is!” Will exclaims. He sits up straight, twisting his body a full ninety degrees to smile down at Mike, where he’s reclined against the back cushion of the couch. Mike only raises a brow in challenge. “It’s… science. Without attention, kids die. I learned it in class.”
He is such a liar. “You did not learn that in class.”
“I did.”
“You totally didn’t, because that’s not even remotely true,” Mike says. His argument has lost an embarrassing amount of heat, and he finds himself holding back a grin. He’s dating the stupidest man. Who else would make up scientific facts to make him feel better?
He’s a stubborn man, too. “It is true,” Will says, voice dropping to a low murmur. He leans in closer, ducking his head until it slots perfectly in the space between Mike’s shoulder and neck. He plants a soft, lingering kiss to the skin there.
Mike tries to squirm away from the ticklish sensation, but Will holds him firmly in place with an arm around his waist. “Will,” he protests, but his heart isn’t in it. “Stop.”
“Not until you smile,” he says. Dammit. He knows Mike’s weak spot.
Despite his wishes, Mike leans into the touch. “I don’t want to smile.”
“You are smiling,” Will says. It’s not a question— not even an accusation. Just a statement. A true statement.
He ignores his own blush, winding his arms around Will’s neck and pulling him closer. “Yeah, because you’re annoying me.” He breathes in the scent of Will, basking in the feeling of him all around him, under his arms, tangled in his hair. Mike is flooded with calm, the ferocious dog in him tamed solely by the knowledge that Will’s focus is completely on him. He’s the only person that matters right now. Fuck the rest of the world. He wants them all to be thinking of him, him, him.
Why Will chooses to feed his beast instead of putting it down, Mike doesn’t know. What he does know is that his beast would do anything for Will. Anything for his attention. It rumbles somewhere deep in his stomach— something caught between a purr and a growl.
On an impulse— a command— Mike reaches to grab Will’s jaw, tugging him up and away. He presses their foreheads together, so that Will is forced to stare into his intense, hungry eyes. Will’s are grinning back at him, as if he already understands the emotions Mike has barely registered, let alone processed.
“Jealous again?”
Mike pauses. Slowly, he nods.
Will barely holds back a laugh. “Of your neck?”
“Shut up,” he mumbles, despising the heat that’s spreading across his face. It’s ridiculous, he knows. It’s illogical. That’s what started this whole mess. “I want you to look at me.”
Will’s smile softens as he cups a hand around Mike’s cheek. “I can do that. Always. If you ever need more attention, just ask, okay? I’d be glad to give it to you.”
Mike nods against him. He doesn’t pull away— not immediately. “Would it be weird if I asked you to watch me sleep?” he asks after a long, quiet moment.
He receives a peck to the lips in response. “I do that anyway.” A breeze replaces the warmth of Will’s touch as he moves further down the couch. He pats his lap invitingly.
Mike doesn’t need further instruction, lying down on the cushions and pillowing his head onto Will’s thighs. He sighs contentedly as fingers make their way into his hair, brushing out the stubborn tangles. His eyelids shut on their own accord, delightfully sated.
He thinks he should feel uncomfortable with Will hovering over him like this, observing, but he doesn’t; not at all. In fact, he hasn’t felt this safe in years. Will’s gaze is like a security blanket, tucking him up tight and telling him to rest peacefully.
Mike peels open one eye. Not because he thinks that Will would break his promise, but— well, he just wants to check. Thankfully, Will’s vision is still locked on him. His expression is a mix of amusement and fondness as he brushes the hair from Mike’s face. “Don’t look away.”
“I won’t,” Will says assuredly. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Just get some sleep.”
Mike complies without another word. When he wakes up, Will is going to be there waiting for him. He’s positive about that. For once, he isn’t scared that this attention— this love— is fleeting. It’s not something that Will can run out of. Mike doesn’t have to ration it out— doesn’t have to tiptoe the line between slipping through the cracks and annoying his mother to death. He doesn’t have to savor every compliment like it’ll be his last.
Will is here to stay.