Archive of Our Own

November 6, 1987

Will’s eyes are white, his arms outstretched, as he attempts to call off the slowly tightening vines around Mike’s body.

The attack was sudden and without warning, cutting through his and Will’s conversation as they trekked through the upside down. One moment he was tentatively trying to get Will to open up about the shadow that has been slowly taking over his mind and the next Mike's back was against the nearest tree, vines snagging every limb and holding them down.

Now, Will drops his hands with a grunt.

“It’s not working,” he says, frustrated and a little desperate.

It has been two days since Will realised the full potential of his connection to Vecna and in that time he has only grown more confident and competent in his power. The hive mind has been bending to his will with little resistance, failing only now when Mike’s ribs feel like they will snap if the vines close any tighter.

Will is not supposed to be using them. They realised it almost too late, that strengthening the connection between him and Vecna has consequences. He’s been acting strange and Mike knows Vecna has been talking to him, getting in his head. It’s Will’s silence that worries him. Every time he leaves Mike’s sight he’s terrified he might have snuck off, done something stupid and selfless.

He gasps, unable to fill his lungs with air, and Will grabs at the vine around his neck, trying to pry it loose.

“Knife,” Mike gets out. “My bag. There’s a knife.”

But Will doesn’t move, only looks at him with those unsettling white eyes. Mike doesn’t like them, doesn’t like that they hide every emotion from Will’s usually so expressive face.

“Will,” Mike chokes, his vision starting to blur. Why isn’t he moving?

Then Mike sees it. The slight tilt of Will’s head that he has learned to associate with the silent messages Will doesn’t like to talk about. Vecna is in his head, talking to him as he squeezes all the air from Mike’s body.

Mike tries to speak, to tell him not to listen but no sound escapes.

“Stop,” Will says to the voice only he can hear. He tugs again at the vine but it doesn't budge. “Stop it. Please. You’re killing him.”

Mike lets out a pitiful whimper as the vines continue to tighten and Will’s face twists in anguish. What is Vecna saying to him? What does he want?

Will shakes his head, but even his white eyes cannot hide his defeat. “No, I- I won’t.” 

Mike wants to tell him not to give in, that whatever Vecna wants him to do, Mike is not worth it. But he can see Will's resolve draining away with Mike's remaining air. 

“Please,” Will begs one last time.

Black spots surround Mike’s vision and consciousness starts to slip away from him until finally Will’s voice cuts through the rushing in his ears.

“Ok!” he says, frantically. “Ok, I’ll do it! Just stop, please!”

And just like that Mike can breathe again. The vines release him and he drops to his knees, gasping. Hands are on his shoulders, holding him up as he chokes.

“Mike? Mike, are you okay?”

Mike wheezes, trying to speak.

“What is it?” Will asks, panicked. “Are you hurt?”

He presses gently at Mike’s ribs, checking for broken bones. Mike flinches but ignores the ache. His ribs are not important right now.

It's hard to speak as Mike catches his breath but he forces the words out. 

“What-" He grabs Will’s vest, bringing his face level with his. “What did you just agree to?”

Will stares at him, lips pressed together in a thin line. His eyes are still rolled to the back of his head, still connected to the hive mind, and Mike just wants to see that familiar hazel, to know his best friend is going to be ok. 

“It doesn’t matter now," he says, pretending to be brave but Mike hears the waiver in his voice. “Can you breathe?”

“Will,” Mike says, ignoring the question. “Tell me.”

“It’s ok."

“No.” This can't be happening. He won't let it. 

“It’s going to be ok," Will says, his voice breaking.

Mike’s comes out strained. “No.”

“I have to," Will says quietly. Tears are starting to gather in his eyes. "We're losing. He'll kill you if I don't go."

"It’s a trap. We know it is-"

“I can't let you die.”

“What about you,” Mike insists, gripping Will's vest like he can physically keep him from going. 

Will's jaw tightens and he lowers his eyes. “Maybe I can stop him.”

Mike shakes his head. “We talked about this. You promised.”

That has Will looking guilty. Only last night Mike made him promise not to do anything stupid. That whatever happens, they’ll do it together.

“There’s no other way.”

“We’ll find one.”

Will’s head tilts to the side and now Mike really starts to panic. 

“Will,” he says, a warning, a plea. “Don’t.”

There are footsteps approaching, fast and inhuman.

Will swallows, lifts his chin, and says, “I have to go.”

”Don’t be stupid,” Mike snaps, angry now, but Will is already standing up.

He refuses to let go of his vest, following him to his feet. The footsteps come to a stop as a demogorgan appears behind Will. It sends a stab of fear to Mike’s heart, even knowing Will is in control. 

Will takes his wrists in hand. “Let go.”

“You’re not going,” Mike says firmly. “I won't let you.”

Will shakes his head, frowning unhappily. He steps back and says, “I’m sorry.”

Two vines shoot out, snagging one of Mike’s wrists and then the other. He stares at Will, betrayed, as his arms are forced back.

“Will?"

He backs away until he is in front of the towering demogorgan, their breathing creepily in sync.

"Tell my mom and Jonathan that I'm sorry," Will says and the demogorgan turns around, using its claws to rip a gate into the nearest tree trunk and then disappearing through.

Mike protests uselessly, struggling against the vines. There are tears running down Will's cheeks.

“Maybe this was how it was always supposed to be," he says, like he is trying to convince himself as well as Mike. "Maybe I’ve been living on borrowed time and if I do this… it’ll be right again.”

Mike’s throat closes up around a lump of emotion. How could he think that? “That’s not true."

As Mike pulls at his restraints, he realises that he cannot prevent this. Will has already made up his mind and Vecna has left them with no choice. Mike can't protect him anymore. 

Unless. 

"Let me come with you," Mike says as a last resort. "Don't go alone."

Will stops, one hand on the gate. For a few agonising moments, Will does nothing. He looks back and Mike's heart jumps, thinking he has finally got through to him. 

He looks at the gate one more time and then jerks back. He walks over to where Mike still stands, stopping less than a foot away. He opens his mouth, closes it. 

And then Will does the last thing Mike expects him to. He kisses him.

It’s so unexpected, so short and gentle, that Mike can barely be sure it happens. Will's hands are cold on his cheeks and they remain there even after he has pulled away. 

"Will?" is all Mike can say, struck dumb.

Will’s white eyes stare back at him, filled with even more fear and regret than before. 

“I love you." The words are choked, barely sounding like Will at all, and Mike stares, completely thrown. Will drops his hands, backs away. "I'm sorry."

Mike is too confused to realise what is happening. Only when Will is stepping through the gate does he come back to himself. And then he is left to shout Will’s name until his voice is hoarse and the gate has closed, leaving him alone in the forest, released from the clutch of the vines but still just as helpless.

•••

El brings Will back. It’s impossible but she does it anyway.

He wasn’t conscious when she found him and he’s still unconscious now. Venca and the Mind Flayer are gone, the final battle won, and yet Mike does not feel like celebrating. Instead. he sits beside Will's hospital bed waiting for Joyce and Jonathan to finish talking to the doctors about his condition. 

Truthfully, they can only tell them so much. The things Will had to go through cannot be explained by normal medical research because they have never happened before. Anything they think they know could be wrong. A coma, they called it. But that was how they explained what happened to Max and Max took two years and a miracle to come back to them. 

The thought that they might lose Will now after all that has happened… Mike refuses to entertain the idea.

He’s not dead - Mike has to keep reminding himself of that - but for the second time in his life Mike thought he was and that feeling doesn’t go away easily.

He slips his hand into Will’s, holding it like it might anchor him to life. His fingers are cold and Mike is reminded of the feeling of them pressed to his cheeks. He pushes the thought aside and covers Will's knuckles with his other hand to warm them. 

In the ensuing silence Mike can't help but replay that last conversation, the things Will said and everything Mike didn't get the chance to. He has changed the outcome so many times in his head that he is not sure he remembers the reality anymore. In his head he finds the right words to make him stay. In his head he never let Will believe that they - that he - could live without him in the first place. 

Mike thought he had fixed things after California. He thought he was finally doing the right thing. Turns out he never even knew what the right thing was. 

Dampness starts to collect in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Will," he whispers, hoping that wherever Will is right now, he hears it. 

There's movement outside the door and a second later the handle turns. It’s Jonathan, bags under his eyes, wearing the same clothes as the night before. His expression doesn't give much away, appearing just as worn as when he left.

Mike clears his throat and wipes his eyes as subtly as he can. “What did they say?”

Jonathan closes the door behind him and makes his way to the chair beside Mike.

"Not much," he says with a sigh, sitting down. He rests his elbows on the edge of the mattress and runs a tired hand through his hair. His attention catches briefly on their hands, pausing almost imperceptivity before looking away.

He relays a jumbled summary of the conversation and, as Mike expected, they don't know anything useful. Will could wake up any minute or he could never wake up at all.

That thought hangs over their heads as they both look at Will.

A hand lands on Mike's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"He'll wake up," Jonathan says and Mike wishes he could believe him. 

He gives a tight lipped smile, not sure how to respond. 

Jonathan is the closest thing Mike has to an older brother. He used to think he was so cool - still does, in a way. Just not with the same rose colored glasses as when he was a child. 

There was a shift, after California. Mike didn't know what he'd done, but Jonathan started to treat him differently. He was snappier, colder. Mike is starting to understand now and the comforting hand on his shoulder only makes him feel worse. 

He looks down at Will’s hand in his own, feeling the dampness return to his eyes.

He's not sure what prompts him to speak, but the words slip out before he can stop them. 

“He told me he loves me.”

Jonathan looks at him. A pause. "What?" 

"Before he left," Mike clarifies. He swipes a thumb over Will's cold skin, unable to look at Jonathan. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “Why would he do that?” 

Jonathan seems unsure how to respond. “Mike…”

"I tried to stop him," Mike says, needing Jonathan to know. "I did. But then he... and I was surprised, and... and then he was just gone." Mike glances up and where he expects to find resentment on Jonathan’s face, he finds only confusion. “Why would he say something like that and then leave? I didn't even- I couldn't-”

Jonathan's eyes fall to their hands again and something changes in his face. Understanding begins to smooth over his features and when he looks at Mike again its like he is seeing him for the first time. 

"I didn't know," Mike insists. He can feel his control on his emotions slipping as tears blur his vision.

"This isn't your fault, Mike," Jonathan says softly. "It wouldn't have changed anything."

Mike shakes his head. Because what if it would have? What if Mike is the reason Will did what he did? 

A sobs escapes involuntarily and Mike quickly covers his face with his hands. He’s been so good at holding it in, at being strong for other people, but something inside him broke the moment Will disappeared through that gate.

Jonathan pulls him into his side and Mike curls into him. It’s not fair to Jonathan - this is his brother - but Mike has always thought of him as someone safe, someone who understands. Arms wrap tightly around his shoulders and Mike does what he hasn't in years. He lets himself cry. 

•••

Mike is sleeping the first time Will wakes up.

People have been coming and going all day and visiting hours are almost over. His head is pillowed on his bent arm and he has been dozing for maybe an hour when he hears his name muttered in a voice he has not heard in too long. 

He thinks he is dreaming at first but then fingers tighten around his own and suddenly Mike is wide awake. His head snaps up.

“Will?”

He blinks against the blurriness in his eyes, expecting to find familiar hazel looking back at him, but Will's eyes are still closed. He shifts closer, brushing the hair back from Will's face and tapping his cheek. 

"Will?" he says again. "Can you hear me?"

No response. Disappointment sinks to the pit of Mike's stomach. He was certain he felt him move. 

Am I going crazy? he wonders. The only sleep he has been getting is in this uncomfortable chair, unable to do anything but worry about Will when he is at home. 

There is a soft knock on the door and then the nurse steps inside. 

She's a friend of his mom's and every time she looks at Mike it is with a sympathetic tilt of her head. He can't blame her. With his mom and dad still recovering and his clear concern for Will, he must appear quite tragic. 

"Hi honey," she says, and Mike already knows that she is here to politely usher him out. "It's almost eight. Have you eaten anything today?"

"Uh, yeah," he lies, realising only then that he skipped lunch. The nurse goes about her routine check over and Mike watches her closely. “I think he was awake. Just now.”

She purses her lips and checks Will’s responses.

“Are you sure?” she asks gently. 

“I’m certain,” Mike insists. “He squeezed my hand.”

She raises her eyebrows and Mike’s face flushes.

“I will note it down for the doctor,” she says appeasingly. “But it’s a good sign. Waking up from a coma is a gradual process. If he is showing signs of consciousness, we can hope he will wake fully soon."

She gives an encouraging smile and Mike forces one in return.

“Now,” she says apologetically, “I think it’s time for you to get some rest.”

The second time Will wakes up, Mike is at home. He finds out hours later from Joyce who calls the house phone to let him know. He was confused, she tells him, not sure where he was or how he got there. The doctors say its normal, that they should think of him as half asleep still and that soon enough, he will be back to himself. 

Mike still worries. 

These brief moments of consciousness continue, becoming more frequent and more coherent until Will is able to hold a conversation and answer any question thrown his way.

Not that Mike has been witness to any of this progress, because Will never wakes up when he is in the room. He visits every day, though he can't stay the whole time; he does have school. Its almost as if Will is doing it on purpose. Avoiding him. 

Which is why Mike is so shocked when he walks into the hospital room one evening after school and finds Will awake, sitting on the edge of his bed.

There is a slight grimace on his face but it is quickly replaced by a mix of surprise and wariness when he sees Mike.

"Hey," Mike says, stopping short. "You're awake.”

Will blinks at him for a moment before replying, “Hi."

Mike steps the rest of the way into the room and Will watches the door swing closed.

“How are you? How do you feel?" 

“I'm... ok.”

He seems to react subconsciously to Mike’s approach, tensing up. His posture is odd, his weight supported by his arms braced against the mattress. 

Mike frowns. “Should you be out of bed?"

Will gives a guilty shrug. “The doctors told me its good to start moving as soon as possible.”

Mike huffs, already moving to stand in front of Will. “Here. Let me help.”

When he offers him his hands, Will looks at them with a blush.

He shakes his head, moving as if to stand on his own. “It’s fine, I can do it.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot.”

With an unsure glance up at him, Will relents. He holds onto Mike’s forearms and pulls himself up to standing, wobbling slightly. Mike steadies him but doesn't let go. 

“There,” he says quietly. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Mike smiles and Will’s blush deepens. Face to face, Mike can't help but stare. He's missed those eyes. He didn't realise how much he liked them until he thought he'd never see them again. 

“Thank you,” Will says awkwardly, ducking his head.

He seems to be waiting for Mike to step back but Mike pulls him into a hug instead. “I’m so glad you’re ok."

Will's arms hang stiffly in the air like he is not sure what to do with them. Slowly, he relaxes, letting his arms fall around Mike's shoulders.

Mike's fists tighten around his hospital gown and he closes his eyes, resting his head against Will's. He should say something about Will leaving him in the Upside Down. He should tell him how betrayed he felt when those vines closed around his wrists, how scared he was to be left alone, not knowing what was happening to Will or if he was even still alive. But Mike can't bring himself to care in that moment about anything but Will's warm body in his arms, breathing in and out, finally safe.

He intends to let go, not wanting to crush Will so soon after waking up, but he doesn't want to. 

“Mike?” Will asks eventually. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” Mike says. “I just really missed you.”

Will’s breath catches and Mike is almost offended. Did he think he wouldn’t?

"You scared me," Mike says.

Will takes a second to respond and when he does, his voice is strained. "I'm sorry.”

And that’s all it takes for Mike to forgive him. He never could hold a grudge when it came to Will. 

•••

Will is lying stiffly on Mike’s bed when he returns from the bathroom.

It was the logical decision for Will to stay at the Wheeler’s while he finishes recovering, but it was Mike’s idea for him to sleep in his room. Will protested at first, visibly uncomfortable with the idea, but the thought of sleeping alone in the basement must have been unappealing enough for him to come around to the arrangement. Mike let Will take the bathroom first and afterwards told him to make himself comfortable while Mike washed up. 

They haven't had much time to talk, what with Will's recovery and Joyce fussing around him. Mike hasn't been much better, bringing Will books and comics despite his short stay in the hospital and then offering his bed for Will to sleep in. 

This is the first time they have been alone with no distractions and it hangs heavy between them as Mike enters the room. 

"Did you find the pyjamas?" Mike asks just for something to say. Will probably knows the contents of Mike's room as well as he does. 

"Yeah," Will says, lifting his sleeve above the covers as proof. 

Mike nods and takes his time putting his clothes in the hamper. He turns out the overhead light, leaving just a dim orange lamp to illuminate the room and then turns towards the bed. Will is looking up at the ceiling. His skin is slightly pale and there is an anxious line between his eyebrows.

Unable to delay any longer, Mike walks around the bed to climb into his side. He settles under the covers, mirroring Will and keeping his eyes on the ceiling. A moment passes in silence and Mike's heartbeat begins to increase in anticipation. 

"Are you... comfortable?"

"Yes," Will says, unusually quiet and short. 

Will is shy, of course, but never with Mike. 

“Um. So," Mike says, struggling to find the correct way to bring this up. He glances at Will, then away. He clears his throat. "About um... about the kiss.”

Even from this distance, Mike can feel Will’s entire body tense up as he shrinks in on himself.

“I’m sorry," he says, even quieter than before. "I shouldn’t have done that.”

Mike frowns. Silence stretches.

“Why did you?” he asks. It's the question that has been plaguing him since it happened. Because Will could have told him at any moment. They have spent practically every waking second together for the last eighteen months and yet Will told him only when he thought he'd never see him again.

“Why?” Will repeats, confused. 

“You didn’t give me a chance to react, to… process."

He doesn't know what he would have done, given the chance, but he would have liked to figure it out. Dropping that on him so suddenly, in the midst of the end of the world, it wasn't fair.

He doesn't blame Will. He just wants to understand. 

“That was kind of the idea," Will mutters and Mike turns it over in his head.

Was Will really so certain that he would react badly? Mike could not imagine a world without Will in his life. Will loving him would never change that, even if Mike didn't... even if it made Mike uncomfortable. 

He didn't expect Will to regret it so much. He knew he would be embarrassed, but Will won't even look at him. 

“Do you… not want to talk about it?”

“Do you?” Will asks, finally turning to him with an incredulous look. Mike takes it as a win. 

He shifts up onto one elbow and Will looks up at him with wide, cautious eyes. 

“Yes.”

Will frowns, looking away. “I thought you’d want to forget about it.”

Mike shakes his head. "I can't."

Will seems unreasonably upset by this, hugging his arms around his middle. “I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it. It was stupid and selfish.”

Sure, it was stupid - though Mike is sure he has different reasons for thinking so than Will - but Mike has already let Will know how stupid he thinks it was.

And perhaps it was selfish. Perhaps Mike should be mad at him for the kiss.

But he isn’t.

His eyes roam Will’s slightly pinched face and suddenly Mike understands why Will is treating him with such caution.

“I’m not mad, Will," he says softly, surprised and a little hurt that he has to clarify. But Will doesn't seem convinced so Mike says, “Will, look at me.” He waits for him to do so before repeating, “I’m not mad.”

This close, with the lamp behind him, Mike can see the dark circles under Will’s eyes. He wonders if he is the reason for his lack of sleep and has to remind himself that there are much worse things that haunt Will’s dreams.

Will searches his face for a lie, his reluctant hope breaking Mike’s heart.

Finally, he asks, “You’re not?”

Mike’s lips twitch up at the corners in a sad smile. “Of course not.”

Will seems to make the decision to trust him, shifting onto his side to face him. 

Mike adjusts his position as well so his head is lying on his pillow, mirroring Will.

He offers another smile and this time Will returns it.

The way he looks at Mike… like he is someone special, someone to be admired… It’s not that Mike never noticed it before, it’s just that he never realised the significance of it. He’s sure Will would be embarrassed if he knew his emotions are always written all over his face and he kind of hopes he never finds out. Because it is one of the things Mike likes most about him.

He just doesn’t quite feel worthy of it.

“I wasn’t expecting it,” Mike whispers. Will’s eyebrows lift in question. “I mean… why me? Why not… I don’t know, Lucas?”

That startles a giggle out of Will. “What?”

Mike shrugs, smiling.

“I don’t know,” Will says. “He’s just.. my friend.”

“But I’m not?”

“No. I mean- of course you are,” Will says, flustered. “It’s just… different.”

Mike should probably drop it. Instead, he asks, “Different how?”

Will’s face flushes an even deeper shade of red and Mike feels guilty enough to backtrack.

“I mean- I guess I’m just… flattered?” That doesn’t seem right but Will relaxes a fraction so he doesn’t correct himself.

Will looks lost in thought and Mike almost changes the subject before he speaks, quiet as if he hopes Mike won’t hear. “You’re… kind. Especially to me.”

Mike can’t help but scoff softly at that. “No I’m not.”

Will purses his lips.

“You used to be,” he says. “You try to be. It’s not your fault I… feel too much.”

Mike own words echo back to him through Will’s and it dawns on him how much unintentional pain he has caused Will with his ignorance.

“I’m sorry.”

Will shakes his head but his eyes glisten with unshed tears. “It’s ok.”

Mike reaches for him, pulling him into his arms. Will sinks into the hug easier this time, slotting his head beneath Mike’s chin. He doesn’t deserve Will’s easy forgiveness, but Mike takes it anyway.

His thumb rubs absentminded circles into Will’s arm as they breathe in sync, both drifting closer to the edge of sleep. He turns his face into Will’s hair, closing his eyes. He presses a kiss to his head.

There’s a pause and then, “Mike?”

“Hm?”

Will slowly shifts back, not out of his arms but enough to see his face. His hair has fallen over his eyes and Mike reaches up to brush it aside. Will flinches back, blinking at him. “Mike.”

“Sorry.”

He drops his elbow to the mattress but lets his fingertips brush over Will’s cheek, his chin and then, softly, over his lips.

Mike hasn’t let himself think of the kiss, the too short press of lips, but it also never really left his mind. He wonders what would have happened without the end of the world hanging in the balance. 

He wonders if Will would do it again. 

“It was a nice kiss,” he says, braver than he feels. In the low light Will’s eyes widen and Mike can see his pulse jumping in his neck. He presses two light fingers to the point. “Your heart’s racing.”

Will breathes shakily. “You’re making me nervous.”

For some reason, that makes Mike smile. He realises that his own heart is racing too. He realises that he wants Will to kiss him again.

He takes Will’s hand and presses it to his neck, letting him feel that he is nervous too. 

“I don’t understand,” Will whispers, hazel eyes bright and so unsure. 

Summoning all the ‘Mike the Brave’ courage he can, Mike asks, “Do it again?”

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

Will stares, all confusion replaced by shock and a hint of fear.

Mike shifts closer, placing his hand on Will’s cheek. “Please.”

He sees the moment Will loses the fight for caution, when he realises that what he wants is right in front of him to take. And Mike is more than happy to give it to him. 

He closes the short distance, kissing him with enough force to knock their teeth together. But, like the first time, the kiss quickly becomes soft and hesitant. Mike could not be more aware that this is his best friend he is kissing. Will who is so impossibly gentle despite all that has happened to him. Will who kisses him like he is not sure if he is allowed to. 

Too soon, he pulls away, watching intensely for Mike’s reaction.

Mike just pulls him back in with a hand on the back of his neck, hoping it is answer enough. This kiss is longer, surer, with Mike taking the lead. Will ends up half leaning over him with Mike flat on his back. 

He didn’t know it could feel like this, didn’t know kissing someone like Will could ever feel so right. He wants to live in the feeling forever.

“Mike,” Will says against his lips. Mike hums in answer but kisses him again. “Mike,” he says again without pulling away. “What are we doing?”

“Kissing.”

Will pulls back and Mike lets his head fall back against his pillow, disappointed. Will is slightly out of breath, looking down at him with parted lips and flushed cheeks. 

Mike brushes his fingers through Will’s hair and behind his ears until his palms are cupping either side of his jaw. He swipes his thumbs over his cheekbones. “You’re beautiful.”

Will opens and closes his mouth. He breathes a disbelieving chuckle. “What?”

Mike isn’t sure what’s funny. 

Will’s eyes dart around the room as if checking for a break in an illusion. “Is this real?”

“Real? Why wouldn’t it be real?”

“You just called me beautiful,” Will says like it is the most absurd thing he has ever heard. 

“Because you are.”

“Not to you.”

Offended, Mike asks, “Why not?”

“You’re not gay, Mike.”

“No,” Mike says. Absently, he slips his hand beneath Will’s shirt. He jumps. “But I guess I’m not straight, either?”

“Is that a question?”

“I don’t know. You know more about this than I do.”

“I can’t tell you how you feel.”

“I like you, isn’t that enough?”

“You…” Will trails off, all humour gone as sincerity takes over. “You like me?”

Mike raises his eyebrows, looks pointedly to their position and then back to Will.

Will seems dumbfounded by this information, taking a moment to form words. “When?”

“Too long for me not to have realised sooner,” Mike says, still annoyed with himself for that. “You gave me a lot to think about. While you were gone.”

It seems to sink in that Mike means it because Will’s expression becomes serious. 

“I love you,” he says, like saying it makes him feel lighter.

Mike grins. “I know.”

Will laughs, the first genuinely happy sound he has made since he woke up.

“Idiot,” he says and then kisses him.