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Mike bounces his foot on the floor of Nancy’s car. He keeps adjusting his hair, his tie, fixing his appearance in the mirror while Nancy pulls into the school parking lot. This isn’t his first time going to a school dance, but it’s his second dance with a date.
Truthfully, he doesn’t want to be here.
After Vecna was finally defeated, it took a long while for the party to cope with El’s passing—it was unexpected for everyone, especially Mike. He spent a long while moping around in his bedroom, doing nothing at all, really. Writing different things, then scrapping them, reading all the letters that he didn’t send to El. Lying in bed while the party hung out. Staring at the hundreds of drawings that Will had done for him over the years, which he had haphazardly pinned up on various locations on his walls. Including that painting.
He never got to ask her what it meant.
One day, eventually, there was a knock on his bedroom door.
“Mike?” a familiar voice inquired gently, as if he didn’t want to scare whatever was behind the door.
“Your mom let me in. Can I come in?”
It was Will.
Mike didn’t answer.
There was silence for a while. “You know, I’m not hanging out with the party today. They went out to the mall. I wanted to..” Will’s voice trails off. “I wanted to check on you.” He finishes.
Mike doesn’t respond.
Will waits a few breaths before mumbling something under his breath. Mike can’t make out what he says from behind the door.
“Sorry,” Will apologizes. “I’ll leave you alone.”
Mike surges for the door, flinging it open before Will can walk down the stairs.
“No, I’m sorry.” Mike bites his lip. His eyes are definitely puffy, his hair is greasy, and he probably reeks. “Just—give me 10. While I.. clean myself up.”
——————
They left their bikes perched against a large tree by the shore. Will had suggested going for a walk to talk about things—life, was the word he used, but Mike knew that he was just tip-toeing over El’s death. He had suggested Lover’s Lake, as it was a place that would be empty and peaceful enough for a chat. Mike didn’t have the desire to think too much about the implications of that.
Mike sits down first, on an exceptionally large tree root by the ebb and flow of the lake. Will fixes his bike and sits next to him.
For a while, it’s quiet. Mike enjoys the moments when they can just sit in silence together. It makes his heart hurt more than it already does, so he opts for a lack thereof.
Mike picks up a twig and throws it into the water. “What did you want to say?”
It comes out harsher than intended, and Will visibly flinches at the tone Mike uses, but he relaxes after a few beats. “I..um. I wanted to talk about..” He opens his mouth and closes it a few times. After contemplating his words, Will speaks.
“Mike, are you okay? I’m really worried about you. You’ve been at home for the last month or two, and obviously, you’re not doing anything productive. Not to make you feel worse, or anything..”
Mike doesn’t say anything in return.
Will continues. “I mean, you never hang out with us anymore. When we see you at school, you’re very.. distant. You don’t get food after school with us anymore, you hardly host campaigns.. You just go straight home.”
Mike curls into himself. He knows Will isn’t trying to scrutinize him or anything, and that he’s just concerned for his best friend, but he can feel the bile filling up in his mouth as the conversation goes on. Everything about this conversation just makes him feel more guilty. More alone. More wrong.
Will’s hand hesitates in the air for a second before he gently spreads his fingers across Mike’s back, rubbing up and down softly. “I want you to know that you can tell me anything. You can talk to me anytime about anything. You’re.. my best friend, and I want you to talk to me, Mike.”
Mike notices the way Will pauses on “best friends,” and he feels sick.
“I feel like I can’t do anything anymore,” Mike starts. “Everything I do, I’m reminded of her. How I failed her. How everything was my fault.”
He kicks a few pebbles into the water. They make a quiet ‘plop’ noise; it’s ripples slowly moving through the lake away from Mike.
Will leans in. “Oh, Mike, it wasn’t your fault.”
Mike’s eyes sting.
“But the worst of it is how guilty I feel,” Mike’s voice shakes. Will watches, rubbing circles into his back. “Not because I let her die.. but because,”
Will stopped rubbing circles.
“I didn’t tell her that I loved her.” Mike spits out. Tears start to roll down his cheeks onto his knees, and Will stares back at him in horror. Not that Mike is looking at him, but he can feel the way his face contorted into something unsavoury. Judgement, maybe?
“She told me she loved me,” Mike looks away from Will, back at the trees. “She thanked me for everything. She kissed me—in her head. But I couldn’t say it back.”
“Mike, wh.. what?” Will takes his hand off Mike’s back now, and that stings more than the entire conversation as a whole. “What are you talking about?”
Mike laughs at nothing in particular. Maybe he is laughing at Will—or rather, the horror in Will’s voice. The chuckle sounds more like a sob than anything. “And the worst part?” I don’t.”
“Don’t.. what?” Will pries.
“Love her,” Mike says, matter-of-factly. After realizing how bad that statement sounds, he backtracks.
“At least, not romantically. I realized that years ago. I was just too cowardly to say anything.. before she died—“ Mike corrects himself “Sorry, killed herself.”
Will’s silence is deafening now; whether it’s from his object horror or disgust, he doesn’t know. Mike feels like such an asshole. He forgot for one tiny second that Will is probably grieving more than him. El was his sister, after all.
“I’ve just been wallowing in my room, doing nothing, because I feel so unbelievably guilty. I couldn’t even tell her that I loved her. I was too scared.”
Will’s hand slowly snakes back up to rub circles on Mike’s back again. Mike sobs harder, quieter.
“I think..” Will starts, although it’s clear he doesn’t really know what to say to the bombshell that Mike dropped. “I think she wouldn’t have wanted you to lie, Mike. I think she knew.”
Mike looks at Will. There’s no yearning, or longing, or desire in Will’s eyes. The only thing that Mike sees is sorrow. Empathy. Maybe a bit of understanding. He just wished Will didn’t pity him.
“I think she knew for a while, Mike.” Will finishes. The way he says it isn’t accusatory, it’s soft. Comforting, as if he was speaking for her. “El and I spoke a lot.. while we were in Lenora. About you. And I think.. if she wanted to stay.. she would have. Don’t beat yourself up over what you can’t change.”
Mike buries his face in his hands while he rubs his eyes. He’d rather have this conversation with anyone but Will, but nobody else would understand except him.
But there are some things he just can’t tell him.
It’s one thing to realize that you weren’t really romantically into the girl you started dating when you were 12, but it’s another thing to fall for your best friend while you’re still dating said girl.
It’s another thing to realize you were too late.
How is he supposed to tell Will that he loves him?
Will leans in, bending forward to look at Mike. “But you can’t just wallow away in your bedroom until you die, Mike. We’re going to graduate in a few weeks.” He resumes rubbing Mike’s back up and down.
“You know.. Prom is happening soon, right? We’re all going. Dustin was talking about trying to get Susie to come, but.. I doubt that’ll happen,” Will chuckles to himself. Mike can’t bring himself to laugh. He can only think about one thing, over and over.
Should he? Should he ask?
Will starts to stand up, putting his hand out for Mike to grab onto. “I know you probably don’t want to go, but.. we miss you, Mike. I think it’d be good to get out. Before we graduate.”
Mike turns to stare. Will makes an anxious face and pulls away his hand briefly.
“Ah, sorry, I don’t know why I suggested that, you probably don’t want to go at all,” Will rambles. “I’m so sorry, Mike, that was so insensitive of me, and-“
“I’ll go,” Mike says, grabbing his hand.
Will pauses.
Mike starts hyperventilating. It’s not like he can go back now. “I know.. um—I know we established that you.. uh, got over me and everything, but—“
Will’s face lights up like Christmas lights, and he looks away into the water, chuckling anxiously. “I don’t—I don’t know what t-this has anything to do with the conversation.”
“God, you’re going to think I’m such a loser for bringing this up, and I really don’t know how to begin explaining what I’m feeling, and I don’t even know what you saw in me to begin with and—“ Mike shuts himself up before he can make things worse.
He tugs on Will’s hand to pull him closer; not enough to pull him to the ground, but enough for Will to gasp. “I’ll go.. to Prom. On one condition.”
Will blinks. “Which is?”
“Will you.. no, sorry—let me rephrase,” Mike looks away, down at his shoes that are now muddy from the shore sand. “Can I be your date?”
Will pales like he's seen a ghost, and Mike backtracks in horror. “Sorry, fuck, that was weird, I just won’t go, this is embarrassing—“
“Sure,” Will tugs Mike’s hand again, and Mike turns to look at him.
In Mike’s stunned silence, he notices how nicely Will grew into his features. His soft smile and his 2 front teeth that resemble those of a rabbit. His nose that scrunches when he smiles, and his gentle hazel eyes. Even if they weren’t related, Mike can’t deny that El and Will really looked like siblings.
He finally speaks. “What?”
“I’ll be your date.” With his other hand, Will fixes a strand of hair from his bangs, not letting go of Mike’s hand. “If you’ll have me.”
——————
And now, Mike’s here, sitting in Nancy’s busted Pontiac that she got second-hand. Ironically, it’s a car you wouldn’t expect Nancy of all people to drive, but it’s very her. Different.
“Mike, you look fine. Stop stressing so much, it’s making me anxious.” Nancy sighs, flipping through a few papers that she left on her dashboard. They were probably work papers she forgot to put away, and she just forgot.
“You don’t understand, Nancy,” Mike dooms, fixing his hair in different ways and smiling to examine if he had brushed well enough. “I have to look perfect. I haven’t left my room in fucking weeks.”
Nancy rolls her eyes. “I can’t help you with your physical appearance if I don’t know what your date likes.” She opens the glove compartment over Mike and stuffs the papers into it, slamming it shut. “Who is she? A new friend?”
Mike pauses. Suddenly, leaving the car right now seems like a much better idea. Lying to Nancy, however, wouldn’t be of much help, and not saying anything at all would reward him with an earful. He didn’t want to tell his sister this way, but it’s not like he really has a choice. Frankly, after everything, he doesn’t really care how she finds out. He just hopes that she won’t use it as blackmail material in the near future, given how embarrassing this is.
“Will.” He stares out the window.
Nancy straightens in her seat, as if suddenly this conversation was very important. “..Will? As in..”
Mike kisses his teeth. “Yes, Nancy, my Will. I mean—not.. my Will but, um.. Will Byers.”
Nancy takes a few moments to ponder. She taps on the steering wheel, and Mike wants to beeline for the school bathrooms to throw up. Maybe he did care how she found out; this is humiliating. Is this how Will felt? No, it was probably worse.
“Well,” Nancy giggles. “I’m honestly not surprised.”
Mike sputters. “W-what?! What do you mean?!”
“Well, it was obvious you always had a thing for boys, given that you always stole my magazines with an excess amount of shirtless men in them,” Mike pales.
“I just never thought you’d ask someone out.. let alone Will.” Nancy laughs gently to herself while she looks in the rear view, checking to see if anyone is going to pull into the school roundabout.
“What’s wrong with Will?” Mike scowls.
“Nothing, nothing,” Nancy smiles at him. “I’m happy for you, Mike, honest.”
The car goes quiet. The only thing that they can hear is the very faint sound of the radio, which Nancy turned down to pull into the parking lot. He could barely make out the faint synths of Smooth Criminal, which really wasn’t helping with the humiliation.
“Well, if you want my advice,” Nancy looks over at him. “Will still likes you, I can tell. You’ll be fine.”
“You’re lying. I don’t even know what he sees in me.”
“Yeah, well, me neither. You’re kind of insufferable to be around, but he sees something in you. Just be kind.” Nancy curses and honks at someone who parked too close behind her. Mike assumes it was going to rear-end her.
“And, uh, don’t be alarmed if he’s a little late.”
Mike looks over at Nancy, finally, after staring at his reflection in the mirror for God knows how long. “What?”
“Talked to Jonathan earlier,” Nancy takes a sip of her Coke from the cup holder, and pops out a piece of gum stored in her dash for him. “He told me Will was doing something. Needed help with something. Now shoo. I’ll pick you up around 10?”
Mike nods. He gets out of the car, and Nancy speeds away.
——————
When he enters the gym, it’s loud. Louder than the Snowball years back, definitely. He spots his friends and reluctantly walks towards them. They’re standing by the bleachers, which conveniently seem to be next to the drink tables.
“Hey, Mike!” Lucas laughs. “I didn’t think you’d come! It’s real good to see you.”
“You got a better haircut,” Mike jokes. Lucas frowns and quirks his eyebrow, and Mike backtracks. “Shoot—sorry, that was mean. I mean-“
Lucas barks out a laugh, patting his shoulder. “I’m messin’ with you, dude, I’m glad you could come.”
Max and Dustin also welcome Mike to the festivities. Max is wearing a nice loose dress—low cut, but ironically (and unsurprisingly) in sneakers. Her hair is done nicely, however, which suits the look. Lucas is wearing a matching suit; darker, to complement and contrast Max’s dress, but still very Lucas.
Dustin looks much better than the look he tried to sport at the last dance; his hair looks much better when he’s not trying to imitate Steve. He looks more authentic. He looks better when he’s dressing for himself.
“Is Will here yet?” Mike bites his lip.
Max sways her drink. “Nah, he said he was going to be late. He mentioned over the walkie. Did you seriously ask him out?” She smirks, nudging his arm irritatingly and so very Max.
“Yeah, what of it?” He pouts. He told them bluntly at the lunch table a few days back after Will had left to go to some club meeting. Safe to say, they were all shocked, but didn’t really tease him too much.
“It’s cool,” Max smiles. “I hope you have fun.”
——————
Mike sits with the Party on the back of the bleachers, sipping the punch—or, whatever amalgamation of a drink it is. It’s not like he has any idea. Frankly, he doesn’t care.
It feels like hours since he arrived (even though it’s really only been half an hour, at most), but his patience is chipped away every second that passes. He’s starting to worry that Will stood him up. Will wouldn’t do that; he’s not an asshole, but part of him feels this constant nagging anxiety in the back of his mind. Like he shouldn’t be here. Like he shouldn’t be having fun.
Maybe Will really did decide to bail. Maybe he realized just how much Mike isn’t worth loving.
“I think Will’s here,” Mike chugs the rest of his drink as Lucas elbows him roughly. “Yo, dude, check him out!”
Mike puts his cup down, which was previously obstructing his view. From across the gym, Will walks through the gym doors, looking around for the party. What Lucas failed to mention, however, was how good he looked.
He cut his hair.
His hair, no longer that cute bowl cut that was so undeniably Will, was blown out nicely. His bangs were swept to the side, framing his face. A “heartthrob,” Holly would call it. He looked like River Phoenix when he starred in Running on Empty. Not that he had watched or anything. Let alone memorized who River Phoenix is. Mike Wheeler doesn’t watch romance movies.
His suit was also very cute; his vest hugged his build so Mike could see every angle of his body. Will preferred wearing loose tops, so this was a sight for sore eyes.
Mike swallows thickly. “W-Will!”
Will turns to face him and smiles softly as he jogs over to his friends.
“Dude, I don’t like guys, but I’d totally be all over you if I did.” Lucas jokes, hugging Will and giving him a pat on the back. Max jokingly scolds Lucas for threatening to cheat on him, and Mike stands frozen as Dustin and Max intermingle with Will.
Finally, Will looks over at him.
Will waves softly. “Hi, Mike.”
“Hey,” Mike audibly gulps, and he’s sure Dustin’s giggles are an indication that he heard. “You look.. great. Your hair looks great.”
“Thank you..” Will tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Jonathan cut it for me.. and he styled it.”
Max laughs. “No way, Jonathan? I would have never guessed.”
The party laughs, and the moment finally loosens into something bearable for Mike.. Music rumbles the gym floor, vibrating up through the bleachers and into his own bones. At some point of their catching up (he isn’t entirely sure when), Dustin drags everyone down to the makeshift dance floor, jumping badly to a song that’s already a little bit outdated.
Mike laughs harder than he expects to; loud and unguarded. Lucas shouts something over the music that Mike can’t even really hear, and it doesn’t matter because Lucas is smiling at him like he used to when they were kids, and Max is spinning under his arm, her sneakers squeaking against the polished gym floor. Will dances a little awkwardly at first; his shoulders stiff and hesitant, but eventually he loosens up too; swaying ever so closer, laughing at Mike when he nearly trips over his own feet.
Their hands brush once—just once; quick and accidental, and Mike feels it everywhere. A quick jolt of electricity that makes his heart rate stutter. Maybe this was a good idea, after all.
Mike feels happy for once. Everyone else seems happy for once.
Time eventually starts to blur. The dance lights start feeling too bright and not bright enough all at once, reflecting off streamers and sequins and jewelry and the sheen of sweat on everyone’s skin and god knows what else. Mike tries to ignore it.
His head starts to feel fuzzy and his ears start ringing. He keeps laughing. Keeps moving, goes back to keep drinking whatever weird punch is in that bowl, because stopping feels dangerous.
If he stops, he might think.
If he thinks, he might spiral—about Will, about whether this night means anything in the long run, about whether he’s reading too much into smiles and glances and the way Will keeps ending up right next to him; hazel eyes locking with his own and staring up at him with fondness that could only mean one thing.
About whether he shouldn’t be doing this at all. About whether or not El would—
The air grows thick and heavy in his lungs, making it hard to breathe. His collar feels too tight. His skin feels too warm. For a brief moment (or rather, a long moment), the gym feels less like a dance and more like he’s about to die.
Will brushes his arm. “Mike, are you okay?”
“I—uh, bathroom,” Mike mutters.
He slips away while Lucas is mid-sentence and Dustin is attempting some embarrassing dance move that Max is totally going to tease him for later. He weaves through clusters of people, not caring enough about bumping into couples or friend groups. Each step toward the doors of the gym feels harder and harder than the previous step.
When he finally pushes through the double doors to the field, the music muffles instantly, reduced to a distant but audible thump behind him. The chill of the air hits his face, sharp and clean, and Mike exhales a long breath he didn’t know he was holding; shaky, like he had been holding his it the entire evening without realizing it.
He sits down against the concrete step outside the gym, tilts his head back, and listens to the silence.
This was a mistake. Everything was a mistake.
He shouldn’t have come tonight. He should be at home, lying in his bed until the late hours of the morning, thinking about how much he fucked up.
Love isn’t for Mike. It just.. isn’t.
He screws everything up. Will is all alone in the gym, and he’s probably enjoying the lack of his presence.
El should be enjoying this. It shouldn’t have been her. She should be here, enjoying this dance. She deserves it more than Mike ever did.
It should have been him.
The doors open behind Mike. He doesn’t bother turning around.
“..Mike?” Will treads lightly. “You okay?”
Silence.
Will sits down next to him.
“…Will, you’ll get sick.” Mike insists.
A soft, gentle laugh rings out from Will’s lips. The sound alone makes Mike feel much lighter. “I prefer the cold.”
Without thinking, Mike takes off his blazer and wraps it around Will. It’s a subconscious action; something that comes naturally. Innate. He flushes after the look Will gives him. “I just—I don’t want you to get sick because of me.”
They separate. Distancing from each other.
Mike doesn’t miss the way Will hugs his coat tighter to his body. “..Thank you.”
The silence that follows after the awkwardness between them is always comfortable, Mike notes. They’ve always been comfortable in each other’s wordless presence. Mike looks across the field that they’d run across many times in the last few years. The field is littered with sneaker skids, kicked dirt, and dead yellow patches of grass.
Will breaks the silence. “We saw you step out. I needed some air too.. I hope it’s not a bother.”
“No,” Mike shakes his head. “It’s fine.”
Will looks up at the sky. He seems to be pondering his next words, looking at the stars and satellites in the sky. He sighs. “Grief is weird.”
Mike looks at Will.
“I’m having such a fun time, with our friends, with you..” Will trails off. “I almost feel like I don’t deserve it.”
Mike nods.
Will puts his arms over his knees, leaning forward to stare at the field in the same way Mike was.
“Everyone feels the same way, Mike.” Will smiles gently at him, leaning over against his own shoulder to see his face. Mike notices that way his eyes are glassy. “They’re just hiding it. I understand.”
Mike exhales slowly, his breath fogging faintly in the cold air. He doesn’t argue, because he knows exactly what Will means.
“It feels wrong,” Mike says quietly. “To be here.. To laugh. She should be here.” His voice cracks on the last word, and he hates himself for it; hates how El’s absence seems louder than the music blaring from inside the gym.
“I feel like I’m ruining our date,” Mike mumbles.
“No, you’re not,” Will responds.
He presses his heels into the concrete, grounding himself, staring out at the grass so he doesn’t have to see the look on Will’s face when her name is looming between them.
Will tilts his head, eyes fixed on the grass too. “I keep thinking she’s just… late,” he admits, chuckling to himself. “Like she’s gonna show up any second and make fun of us for getting all dressed up—and my haircut.” A small smile tugs at his lips before fading. Mike doesn’t miss how his eyebrows furrowed.
He leans closer, their shoulders brushing, deliberate this time. “But I think she’d want us to be here, together.. N-not just you and I, but all of us.” Will finishes. The thought hurts to think about, but it’s also somewhat grounding.
They sit in the quiet after that, letting El’s memory linger between them without trying to ignore or push it away. It’s a moment of silence for her. Mike chews on the inside of his lip, and Will fixes the way his bangs are positioned, holding Mike’s blazer close to him.
The music stops from inside the gym, and a familiar song starts to play. A slow, romantic song.
Suddenly, looking at anything but Will seems interesting. Will seems to hold the same sentiment.
Mike gnaws at his lip, red and swollen. “..You like this song, right? The Smiths?”
Will looks over at Mike, blinking in confusion. It’s cute, seeing him look clueless, Mike notes. “..I do. How did you know?”
“You told me,” Mike stands up. “I remembered.”
Will sucks in a breath of air, and doesn’t exhale.
The slow swaying music of Back To The Old House rings and echoes faintly from the gym. Mike stands awkwardly in front of Will, hand outstretched, like a loser. “Will you.. dance with me?”
Will swallows. He looks down, then back up at Mike. His eyes look anxious, but hopeful. Yearning. “Out here?”
“I know you probably don’t feel comfortable dancing in the gym with.. everyone,” Mike rubs the back of his head, messing up the curls he meticulously tried to groom circa 2 hours ago. “It’s just us out here though, so..”
Will takes his hand.
For a second, nothing happens. They just stand there, fingers loosely intertwined, both of them painfully aware of how exposing this is, despite being alone. Mike shifts his weight on his feet, unsure where to put his other hand, suddenly hyper-aware of every shitty school dance he’s ever attended.
He lets out a nervous breath that comes out half-laugh, half-sigh. “Sorry,” he murmurs, already embarrassed and red-faced. “I’m not—I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
Will huffs softly at that, something fond in the sound, and steps closer anyway, tentative but determined, like he always is when he’s scared but refuses to back down.
“I don’t either,” Will admits, voice barely above the music drifting from the gym.
He lifts Mike’s hand a little higher, unsure, then settles his hand back down where it was. After a moment of quiet trial and error, Mike places his free hand at Will’s side, careful, like he’s afraid he might startle him.
Will hesitates only for a moment before wrapping his arms around Mike’s neck, hovering, giving Mike time to change his mind. When he doesn’t, when Mike stays, they begin to sway; small movements at first, barely more than shifting their feet in time with the slow rhythm bleeding through the thick brick walls.
It’s awkward.
Mike steps on Will’s shoe and immediately apologizes, mortified. Will laughs quietly and shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says, squeezing Mike’s neck just a little tighter. The reassurance settles something in Mike’s chest, and he lets himself relax, lets the tension in his shoulders drop.
They find a rhythm that works for them. It’s not perfect, or practiced, and it’s not like they’ve ever danced with each other before, but it..works. Mike focuses on the Will’s breathing, on the warmth that radiates through his blazer still loosely wrapped around Will, on the way the sounds of the night seems to hush around them so they can only hear the music.
“..Where did you learn to dance?” Mike spits out, looking away in embarrassment.
Will makes a smile-frown, rolling his eyes. “My mom made me dance with her for hours before the Snowball,” He laughs. “Guess it paid off.”
As the song continues, they drift closer without realizing, drawn together by gravity, or maybe something that’s been waiting far too long to be acknowledged.
Will’s head dips slightly, resting near Mike’s shoulder, and Mike swallows hard, positive that Will heard it. His heart races deep and low in his ribcage, but he doesn’t pull away. Will leans up and kisses Mike’s jawline, feather light, like nothing even happened, before settling back into the crook of Mike’s neck.
Mike wants to scream. Instead, he adjusts his grip, hugging Will’s waist closer than before, feeling the bumps of his ribcage as his hands move lower, setting just above his hips. It feels right: so right it almost hurts.
For the first time all night—for the first time in weeks, the noise in Mike’s head quiets.
It’s just Will.
Will, the music, and the slow sway of two teens finding their footing together after years of suffering.
It’s always been Will, hasn’t it?
When the song begins to fade, neither of them make any moves to stop dancing. They linger in the last few notes, and Will pulls back from Mike’s shoulder, opening his eyes.
Mike finally exhales, long and steady, resting his forehead briefly against Will’s before pulling back just enough to look at him. Will meets his gaze, eyes shining, and he smiles. His nose scrunches and his eyes wrinkle in a way that is so distinctly Will. His teeth poke through his smile, resting just between his bottom lip.
“I love you, Will.” Mike forces out before he can think about it.
Will giggles. “I know.”