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Mike and Will had been together for six months now.
They started getting close again after the Byers moved in with the Wheelers— one late night hanging out in Mike’s room, things had just… snowballed from there.
Now, they were dating in secret. It hadn’t felt like the right time to tell everyone— not with everything else going on. And, admittedly, Mike wasn’t ready to tell people yet.
It was another one of those nights where Will snuck up to Mike’s room after everyone had gone to bed, his sketchbook and pencils tucked under his arm.
Mike sat hunched over on his bed, absorbed in the first volume of a new comic series he’d found. His dark curls fell into his eyes, his mouth slightly open in concentration. Will sat on the other side of the bed, back against the wall, quietly drawing in his sketchbook.
Mike slowly flipped to the next page, his jaw falling open. “Will, holy shit!” He tore his eyes away from the page, looking at Will, who was already looking at him.
“You really need to read this next,” Mike told him enthusiastically, moving to sit next to Will on the bed.
Will raised a brow, setting his sketchbook face down beside him. “What’s it about?” he asked curiously, giving Mike his full attention.
Mike’s smile grew, pleased to get an opening to talk about it. “Dude, you’d love it.” He still called him dude even after six months of dating. He honestly would never stop; he wasn’t one for lovey pet names. He moved to sit criss-cross in front of him, wanting to face him when he told him about it. He looked down at the cover on his lap, his thumb saving his place. “It’s in space— like a sci-fi— but there’s royalty and stuff. It’s like medieval times in space, but like— very different.”
Will smiled faintly. Mike calling him dude never bothered him, even now. Mike’s happiness was infectious, and he smiled along as Mike went on about the story.
“Sounds cool,” Will said. He knew Mike could ramble for hours about books and movies if given the chance. He loved seeing him so passionate about it. “What’s the protagonist’s name? Is he cool?”
Mike nodded, hands moving excitedly as he talked. “Uh, yeah, he’s cool! He’s literally a space knight.” His eyes flickered down to the cover of the book again. “His name’s Elion, and he’s a knight for one of the largest space kingdoms. Everyone’s an alien, and there’s all sorts of different species. Elion thought he was the most common species, but—”
He stopped himself. “Shit, wait— I can’t spoil it. You’ll just have to read it when I’m done.” He raised his eyebrows playfully, waving the book in the air teasingly.
“Oh, come on,” Will groaned playfully, nudging Mike’s knee with his foot. “You can’t just drop all that and then stop. I don’t want to have to wait until you’re done to read it.”
Mike smirked, hugging the book to himself. “Well, that’s just too bad.”
Will shook his head in disbelief, crossing his arms. “How about if you tell me the spoiler, I’ll let you see what I was drawing?” he offered, brows raised.
“What?” Mike’s eyes flickered to his overturned sketchbook next to them on the bed. “What’d you draw? Is it me? Is it more of our D&D personas?” It was impressive how he already forgot about the comic book, now fully curious about the mystery drawing.
Mike picked up the sketchbook, but Will snatched it away from him before he could turn it over.
“You’ll just have to wait.” Growing up, Will always enjoyed drawing Mike. He enjoyed depicting each detail down to every freckle. But lately, he’d been drawing him more and more.
“What! No fair— is it done?” Mike watched as Will tucked it behind his back, mouth slightly open in disbelief. He groaned when he was met with Will laughing, his hand reaching over to rest on Will’s leg. “Come on, Will. What can I do for you to show me?” He traced the back of his fingers up his leg.
Will tensed under his touch, goosebumps rising on his skin. He tried to suppress a small grin. “You want to see it that badly?” He knew how much Mike hated secrets. “I guess I could be bribed.” It appeared that Will had also forgotten about the comic book.
Mike smiled, moving forward on his knees, abandoning the comic book next to him on the bed. One hand propped him up while the other found its way to Will’s face, thumb tracing over his jawline. “Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly as he inched their faces closer together. Even if they’d kissed a hundred times, Mike always asked. He didn’t want to mess this up.
Will’s face flushed faintly as Mike held his face, his heart thumping a little faster. They had been together for months now, but that simple touch still made his stomach do somersaults every time. He couldn’t help but smile at his question. “Yeah. Always.”
They met halfway, lips connecting in a soft, almost tentative kiss.
They moved their heads, easily finding the best angle to be closer to each other. Mike quickly grew impatient, moving his lips more hungrily against Will’s. Will felt Mike’s tongue trace over his bottom lip, making him melt into him. Will’s fingers found their way to Mike’s hair, tangling in his dark curls as he kissed him back just as hungrily. Both their hearts hammered in their chests; no matter how many times they kissed like this, it always caused a reaction.
Mike moved closer, a knee between Will’s as his hand slid down to his neck, then back, fingers playing with his hair where it met his skin. The sounds of their mouths intertwined filled the quiet room. Usually, Mike would worry about someone hearing, but he was too swept up to care.
The lamp on Mike’s bedside table lit the room dimly, shadows dancing between them. Mike opened his eyes for a second to admire Will as they kissed. He always thought this kind of lighting somehow made him look brighter. Will’s hands found their way to Mike’s hips, pulling him closer as he tilted his head for a deeper angle. The sketchbook was long forgotten now, along with the comic book.
Right now, there was only the warmth between them and the quiet rhythm of their breathing syncing together.
Mike loved any excuse to make out with Will; it was his favorite way to quiet his always-racing mind. His hand on the back of Will’s neck pulled him closer, never wanting their faces to separate. He was almost addicted to his lips— he never wanted to stop kissing him. He shifted over him, trying to press closer to Will. But in his attempt to get closer to the boy he was swapping spit with, he accidentally bonked the back of Will’s head against the wall.
Mike pulled away quickly, the muffled noise of Will’s pained grunt against his lips snapping him out of his trance-like state. “Shit— sorry, Will!” he apologized quickly, moving off Will to sit next to him.
Will’s hand shot up to the back of his head, feeling the sore spot where it hit the wall. He blinked at Mike, taking note of his flushed face and swollen lips. He knew he probably looked very similar. After a moment, Will started laughing— quietly at first, then louder, as he watched Mike’s concerned expression slowly morph into confusion.
“You’re such a klutz, Mike,” Will said, his head thrown back in laughter. “You act all confident one moment, and then the next you’re giving me brain damage.”
A small, confused smile grew on Mike’s face as he realized Will was clearly fine. “Okay, asshole. I guess you’re okay.”
Mike wrapped his arms around Will in a hug, making his laughter die down into a small, amused smile when he realized Mike was actually worried. “I’m fine, Mike,” he said. “It’s not the worst way to get concussed.”
Mike laughed into Will’s shoulder in response, pulling away, though his hands lingered on his sides. “It’s not my fault you’re a perfectionist even when it comes to kissing. You got way better than me in, like, one day.”
When they first started dating, Will was anxious to kiss him, considering he’d never kissed anyone. So Mike taught him— even though his own kissing skills weren’t the best. Suprising, considering how much time he and El spent kissing when they were together.
Will smiled. “I’m just a fast learner,” he teased, pulling Mike closer. They tangled their legs together as they sat next to each other, neither of them wanting an inch of space between them. When Mike shifted against his side, he felt the sketchbook poking him from behind Will’s back. It reminded him of the initial mission: seeing Will’s drawing. He could still win.
He scooted over an inch, disguising the movement with his hand trailing down Will’s side. He hoped Will had forgotten about the sketchbook, too. He quickly snatched it from behind him, already holding it out of Will’s reach.
Will gasped. “Hey! No— Mike, no!”
Will reached for it, but Mike continued holding it just out of reach, a triumphant grin on his face. “Dude! That’s— that’s private!” Will half-laughed, half-panicked, grabbing Mike’s arm.
Mike laughed, a satisfied grin on his face. “It feels good to win,” he hummed playfully, lowering it slightly when Will gave up.
“You’re an ass, you know that, right?” Will said flatly, though the corners of his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Remind me why I put up with you?”
Mike gasped dramatically, feigning offense even though a smile still lingered on his face. “Because I’m awesome and devilishly handsome?”
Will gave him an exasperated look, lips pressed together as he suppressed a smile. That resolve broke quickly, a grin finally slipping through. He couldn’t stay annoyed with Mike for long— not with that stupid grin on his face.
Mike laughed, offering the sketchbook back to him. “Here. I won’t look at it if you don’t want me to.”
Will hesitated, watching Mike’s face— the softness in his eyes, the way his teasing melted into something more tender. He knew Mike meant it. He always respected the line between playful and personal.
He sighed softly, taking the sketchbook from him. “Okay, fine.”
He flipped through a few pages before slowly turning it around— revealing a sketch of Mike, half-lit by golden bedroom light, completely lost in his comic book.
The room went still as Mike locked eyes on the drawing, then back at Will, before looking down again. He slowly took the sketchbook from him, his mouth slightly parted as he admired it.
He let out a shaky breath, taking in the way Will captured his features— every freckle, every soft shadow, even the focus in his expression as he read.
Will shifted restlessly, suddenly feeling all too self-conscious.
“Will— wow.” Mike swallowed. “You made me… I don’t know— pretty?”
“I just drew what I saw,” Will murmured softly, averting his eyes. “You are pretty.”
Mike tore his eyes away from the drawing to look at Will. No one ever made him feel the way Will did. Every time it happened, it always caught him off guard.
He was still getting used to it— knowing he liked boys. Knowing he liked Will. It was hard for him, considering he’d only come to terms with it right before they started dating.
Will had known for much longer. He’d gotten a head start on being okay with it. Mike still had moments where a little voice in his head reminded him that Will was a boy, and that he shouldn’t feel this way about him. He didn’t care. He refused to care. He loved Will, and he’d be damned if he let anything ruin the way Will made him feel.
He reached forward tentatively, fingers brushing against Will’s cheek. He leaned in and placed such a soft kiss on his lips that it almost didn’t feel like their lips were touching at all. Seconds later, he pulled away and rested his forehead against Will’s, eyes fluttering closed.
“I think you’re the closest a person can get to being perfect.”
Will’s heart skipped a beat, a wave of warmth spreading through his chest. Mike thought he was perfect— of all things? It was so hard to believe, and yet hearing it said so matter-of-factly sent a shiver down his spine.
A quiet sigh escaped Mike’s mouth as he buried his face in Will’s shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist. “I really like the drawing,” his voice was muffled by the fabric of Will’s sweater.
Will brought a hand to the back of Mike’s head, running his fingers lightly through his hair. That earned a soft hum from Mike, his body relaxing against him.
“I’m glad you like it,” Will murmured. He could hardly believe this was his life now— holding Mike like this, hearing him say such things. It still felt unreal sometimes.
He draped his other arm over Mike’s back, pulling him closer.
Will looked down at Mike just as Mike looked up at him. The sight of Mike’s eyes glistening slightly— all those thoughts whirling behind them— made Will pause.
His expression softened, heart tugging at the sight. He knew that look all too well. It was a mixture of vulnerability and uncertainty, like Mike was holding back thoughts that were desperate to spill out.
“What’s wrong, Mike?”
Mike let out a short laugh, but it didn’t carry any humor. Laughter was how he coped.
“It really doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s just my brain being dumb.”
He broke away, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
Will didn’t push. He simply waited, stilling Mike’s restless hands by holding them. He squeezed lightly, and Mike returned the pressure.
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Will murmured, taking a steady breath. “But I’m here for all of it. Even the messy parts.”
Mike let out a groan of frustration— not at Will, never at Will. He leaned forward, resting his face against Will’s shoulder again, still holding his hand.
“I guess… I guess I— I don’t know how to explain it.”
He turned slightly so his voice wouldn’t be muffled, his eyes fixed on the curve of Will’s neck.
“It’s just… you’ve known you were— like this, for a long time.” He couldn’t even say the word. He always found a way to dance around it.
“But it’s all sorta new to me,” Mike continued. “I buried all those thoughts for so long that I never really let myself think about them.”
He let out a heavy breath, the warmth of it brushing Will’s neck. Will’s hand tightened in Mike’s as he spoke, each word raw and hesitant.
“And it’s not like I ever thought being different was wrong,” Mike said quietly. “I guess— just when it comes to me.”
His voice dropped. “I feel dirty every time I think about it. And sometimes I don’t even let myself think about it at all. Maybe I still haven’t fully come to terms with it.”
Will didn’t respond right away. He stayed still, letting the silence settle between them like a blanket.
“You’re not dirty,” Will said gently. “Not even a little.” He shifted slightly, just enough to make Mike look at him.
“And you don’t have to have everything figured out right now. You don’t have to call yourself anything if you’re not ready.”
Mike exhaled shakily, his eyes flicking between Will’s. “You’ve had so much longer to process all of this.”
With a frustrated groan, he rolled onto his back beside Will, staring up at the ceiling as his thoughts spiraled.
“I’m such an asshole,” he muttered. “You’ve got yourself all figured out, and I’m still in denial. I feel like I’m dragging you down with me.”
“No, Mike. You’re not dragging me down.” Will turned onto his side to face him, resting a gentle hand on Mike’s forearm. “You’re not a bad person for being confused. It takes time.”
Mike swallowed, staring at the ceiling. He hated that his brain worked this way.
“And for the record,” Will added, his voice quieter now, “I definitely don’t have everything figured out. I’m just good at pretending.”
Mike finally tore his gaze away from the ceiling, turning his head to look at Will. “Well, aren’t you… haven’t you figured out…” He groaned, running a hand over his face. “Jesus. I can’t even say it. See? I’m a lost cause.”
Will shook his head, scooting a little closer. “You’re not a lost cause,” he said firmly. “It’s okay to struggle with words, Mike. I wasn’t able to say it for a while either.”
Mike huffed out a breath, frustration curling in his chest. He hated this. He hated that Will had to be the one comforting him— he was supposed to be the strong one.
Maybe if they didn’t live in Hawkins, or if it was twenty years in the future, things would be easier. Maybe if he had a different family, it wouldn’t feel so hard to accept himself.
Will’s heart ached. He knew that look too well— the pride, the fear, the refusal to admit weakness. He recognized it because he wore it himself for years.
“Hey,” Will said softly. “I have an idea.” Mike glanced at him, brows raised. “Maybe you could try saying it out loud,” Will continued. “Even if you’re not convinced it’s true yet. It’s kind of like exposure therapy.”
Mike let out a small, humorless laugh. It was his way of easing his thoughts without screaming. “I guess I could try…”
He sat up, staring down at his hands resting in his lap. It shouldn’t have been this hard to say one word. He could admit that he and Will were dating, but he couldn’t say a stupid word?
“You say it first.”
Will blinked. “You want me to say it first?”
“Yeah.”
Will noticed the tension in Mike’s shoulders, the way his hands fidgeted in his lap. Mike— who had always been strong in Will’s eyes— looked scared of a single word.
Mike knew it was stupid. He knew it shouldn’t be this hard. Finally, he lifted his gaze to Will, looking at him through his eyelashes.
There it was again— that look. Vulnerable. Needing reassurance, even though Mike would deny it.
Will swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. “Okay,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving Mike’s. “I’ll say it first.”
“I am… gay.”
Hearing the words spoken aloud lifted something heavy from Mike’s chest. It made them sound less foreign, less like something he wasn’t allowed to say.
“I’m…” Mike swallowed, “I’m gay,” he said quietly, his voice raw.
Will felt a surge of emotion rush through him at Mike’s words. It felt like a barrier between them finally fell— something unspoken was finally named.
His fingers found Mike’s hand, intertwining their fingers together. Both of their palms were damp with nerves.
“I knew you could do it, dumbass,” Will said softly, bumping Mike’s shoulder with his own. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Mike huffed out a breath, his posture straightening as some of the tension left his body.
“That really wasn’t that bad,” he said. “I feel like I’ve never heard anyone say that word in a way that wasn’t negative.”
“Say it again, then.”
Mike blinked. “What?”
“You being pussy?”
Mike leaned closer, confidence flickering back into his expression. “I’m gay,” he said smugly. Will grinned, squeezing his hand.
“You know,” Mike continued, “it’s weird. I never thought being gay was wrong, even when people talked about it like it was. I always got so mad at people in middle school when they called you gay.”
“You always stood up for me,” Will said quietly. “You never did it out of pity or guilt. You just did it because it was right.”
“Well, yeah. You were my best friend— are my best friend.”
“Yeah,” Will said softly. “And my point is— now you’re scared to stand up for yourself. Not because it’s wrong, but because you spent so long protecting everyone else that you forgot how to protect you.”
Mike searched Will’s eyes, a heavy breath leaving him.
“Kind of heroic, actually,” Will added, nudging Mike’s shoulder with his own. “But also very dumb. Very Mike of you.”
A smile tugged at Mike’s lips. “Yeah, okay. Maybe you’re right,” he said, rolling his eyes lightly. He held Will’s hand in both of his. “When did you get so poetic, Will the Wise?”
Will laughed, leaning against him. “Shut up. I’m trying to have a moment here, and you’re ruining it.”
Mike gasped, feigning innocence. “How am I ruining it? I’m just addressing you by your real name!”
Will pulled his hand free, shoving Mike playfully and earning another dramatic gasp.
“That’s it!”
Mike grabbed a pillow and swung it at Will. Will let out a quiet scream, quickly clamping a hand over his mouth as he laughed— still mindful of everyone else asleep in the house.
They went at it for a minute, Mike attacking with the pillow while Will tried to fend him off. Laughter filled the room, along with whispered insults and breathless giggles.
Will finally managed to scramble away, grabbing the drawing he’d made of Mike. He held it up like he was about to rip it, eyes wide with mock threat.
Mike froze. “I’ll do it,” Will warned.
“What— Will! No!”
“I’ll do it, Mike.”
“Okay, okay! Truce!”
Will raised a skeptical eyebrow as Mike slowly returned the pillow to its place. “See?” Mike said carefully. “Just… put it down.”
Will hesitated before handing the drawing back, officially ending their war.
Mike looked back down at the drawing, carefully checking that the paper hadn’t creased during their fight.
“Hey,” he said quietly, “can I keep this?”
He glanced up at Will, still admiring the sketch. “Would it be— like, totally narcissistic of me to have a picture of myself on my wall?”
The way Mike held the drawing— carefully, almost reverently— made Will’s heart swell with affection.
He chuckled softly. “I think having a picture of yourself on the wall is pretty on-brand for you.” Mike laughed, leaning back against the wall.
“Admit it,” Will teased, nudging Mike’s foot with his own. “You’re proud of your good looks.”
Mike shot him a glare, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not that good-looking.”
Will gave him a look. He knew Mike knew exactly how good-looking he was.
“Don’t do that,” Will said. “I know a dozen girls in class who would swoon if you looked in their direction— if you were, y’know, popular.”
Mike laughed at the thought, shaking his head. “All the girls in class are mouth-breathers. Actually, all the girls in school are mouth-breathers.”
Will snorted, unable to hold back a laugh. He shook his head in amusement— only Mike could turn compliments into insults.
“Wow, brutal,” Will said, nudging Mike again. “But I don’t care about them anyway. You’re mine.”
Mike perked up. “Whoa— I mean, I am. Yours. But it’s weird hearing it said out loud.”
“Holy shit,” Will said, grinning. “Are you blushing?”
“Shut up.”
Mike shoved him lightly, earning a laugh from Will. “So can I keep it or not?” Mike asked, gesturing toward the drawing. “I want to put it with all the other sketches of yours on my wall.”
He pointed to the small section of his wall covered in Will’s drawings. Will’s smile softened. He always felt a swell of affection knowing Mike kept every sketch he’d ever given him.
“Yeah,” Will said. “You can keep it.”
Mike beamed, handing the sketchbook back. “You rip it out for me,” he said. “You’ve got artist hands. You’ll do it better than I would.”
Will laughed. “Artist hands?”
Mike nodded seriously. Carefully, Will pulled the page free and handed it back to him.
“You know,” Will said, handing the page back to Mike, “this might be my masterpiece. Maybe I should sign it before I give it to you— so that people know who made this masterpiece.” Will joked, but of course Mike took it seriously.
“Wait— you should,” Mike said immediately, eyes lighting up. “Where are your pencils?” He glanced around the bed, assuming they’d fallen off at some point during their multiple play fights.
“Or maybe you should use a pen instead,” Mike added thoughtfully. “So it’s less likely to fade.”
He hopped off the bed, heading to his desk to grab one.
Will watched him with an amused smile. “You’re serious?”
Mike returned, holding the pen out proudly. “You can’t give your art away without signing it.” He moved the pen away when Will tried to grab it. “Because what if one day I decided to turn on you and say this was my art? And then sell it for hundreds of dollars.”
Will laughed. “Just give me the damn pen, Mike.” He finally snatched it from him, hesitating for a moment before scribbling a neat signature in the bottom corner of the sketch. As he handed it back, he added, “That scenario is unrealistic. No one would believe you have any artistic talent.”
Mike gasped, pointing accusingly at the drawing. “I have tons of artistic talent. I bet I could draw you just as well as you drew me.”
“That’s a bold claim,” Will said. “Considering you can barely draw a stick figure.”
“You’re such a dick,” Mike muttered, already grabbing the sketchbook. “At least let me try.” He began scanning the bed for a pencil.
Will fished one out from the blankets and handed it to him. “Just so you know, if it’s horrible, I’m going to make fun of you for weeks.”
Mike leaned back against the headboard, sketchbook propped on his knees. “Make a pose or something,” he said, staring down at the blank page like it had personally wronged him.
Will scooted closer and struck an exaggerated pose, one hand resting dramatically on his forehead. “Like this?”
Mike laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, maybe just sit normally.” He started drawing, having absolutely no idea what he was doing. His eyes flicked between Will and the page every few seconds, trying to capture something recognizable.
“Picasso,” Mike muttered under his breath, nodding at his own work. Will laughed, leaning over to peek, but Mike turned the sketchbook away.
“Picasso?” Will scoffed. “You drew one self-portrait in art class, and it looked like a potato with feelings.”
“That self-portrait was abstract,” Mike said defensively. “Something you’d understand if you were on my level of skill.”
“Your level of skill,” Will repeated mockingly. “Which is apparently on par with fourth-graders.”
Mike ignored him, pausing his drawing with a thoughtful hum. “Okay, so how does one draw…” He trailed off, staring at the page. Will waited with a smile, not sure if his sentence was ending there. Mike finished his sentence a few seconds later, “..hair?”
Will burst out laughing. “Seriously? What happened to all that artistic talent?”
“Will, how the hell do you draw hair?” Mike asked, trying not to laugh at himself.
“Hair isn’t that hard,” Will said smugly. “You just need— oh, I don’t know— talent.”
Mike gasped and shoved him lightly. “You’re not giving me any advice?”
“Nope.”
Mike sighed dramatically and went back to the drawing. They sat together in comfortable silence after that, Mike concentrating hard while Will watched him with fond amusement.
At some point, their hands found each other— Mike’s left hand intertwined with Will’s right as he drew with his dominant one.
“Okay,” Mike said finally, holding the sketchbook up. “You need to keep an open mind.”
“Okay…”
“Remember, I’m an abstract artist. This is meant to be beautifully wonky.”
“Mike, just show me the drawing.”
Mike sighed and handed it over. Will looked down and immediately started laughing. The drawing was flat and clumsy, lacking any real detail or shading. And to make it worse, Mike had given him a literal bowl for hair.
“Seriously, Mike?” Will laughed. “The hair?”
Mike laughed too. “What? I thought I’d give the bowl cut a comeback!”
Will shook his head, still smiling.
“You'd better hang that up in the basement. And whenever you guys get a house again,” Mike added quickly.
“I don’t want this thing staring at me while I sleep.” Will laughed, earning a frown from Mike. Will groaned, letting his head fall back against the headboard. “Fine.”
Mike grinned, proud.
“You didn’t sign it,” Will pointed out.
“Huh? Oh.”
“Hypocrite.”
“Shut up, here,” Mike took it back from him, signing the bottom corner with ‘Love, Mike.’
Will smiled down at the drawing, the signature somehow making it more special than the sketch itself.
He set it aside before shifting closer and curling into Mike’s arms, resting his head against his chest. Mike welcomed him immediately, arms wrapping securely around Will’s back as he shifted to lie down more comfortably.
They settled together— limbs tangled, warmth shared— talking softly, laughing quietly, and occasionally drifting into comfortable silence.
Eventually, their voices faded, breaths evening out as sleep crept in.
They fell asleep like that, tangled together in the dim glow of Mike’s lamp.
In the early morning, Will slipped out of Mike’s room and quietly made his way back down to the basement before anyone else woke up. It was a routine they cherished— nights that belonged only to them, followed by mornings spent pretending Will had been downstairs the whole time.
It was comfortable in its normalcy.