Chapter Text
“And the storyteller? What about him?”
Will’s voice cracked a little, trying not to burst into tears, realising it's all coming to an end and they're all going to drift apart, maybe meet up once a month if they get lucky, but he don't want to drift apart from Mike, He can't drift apart from Mike, not when finallyheavy burden he was shouldering has lifted off his shoulders.
Mike was silent for a moment, looking for words, he glanced at all his best friends sitting in front of him, everyone's faces once filled with innocence and laughter now sad, grieving their stolen childhood.
“The storyteller…” Mike finally said, “…keeps telling stories. Stories no one would ever believe are real. Stories his friends helped make. So maybe someday, people can know them. That way… they’re never forgotten.”
He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and weakly smiled at his friends. Nobody had a chance to say something before Karen opened the basement door and called everyone for dinner.
One by one they left the room but Will lingered there, watching Mike clean up after their successfully ended campaign. He wanted to say something, he needed to say something or he felt like he'd lose Mike forever.
“The storyteller doesn't have to bear his burden alone” Will finally speaks after a moment of quiet between them, they never felt the need to fill the silence before, but it was now or never.
“Hm?” He turned around, eyebrows drawn in confusion.
“You don't need to face it alone Mike,” Will continued “your..epilogue, it doesn't have to be lonely future”
“We'll always be close,” Mike said quickly “right?”
“Yeah- yeah of course” Will shaked his head “but that’s not my point, i meant that, ugh, i was thinking about going to the art college right? But my mom- you know how she is, always worried about me after everything that happened and i was just thinking-” he took a big breath before continuing. Mike nodded in acknowledgement .
“I was just thinking, that if you don't mind we could be roommates, there's so many art schools i could go to that our options are very open and-”
“Wait- you want to move in together?” Mike interrupted I mean- I mean it's a good idea Will but- I thought you wanted to give it a shot, a living academic dorm life, y'know, partying all the time” he laughed softly, knowing it doesn't suit Will anyway.
“Partying? it's not really my thing Mike” Will laughed too.
“Give some thought to what I said and, I can wait for an answer”
With that, he turned and headed upstairs, immediately met with Max teasing him for taking so long. A few minutes later, Mike joined them, the noise of conversation and clattering dishes filling the house as they ate together laughing, talking, enjoying their time together.
But Mike’s mind stayed downstairs
Will had always had the biggest impact on his life. He was always there. His best friend for as long as Mike could remember. They grew up together, drifted apart, then somehow ended up close again like nothing really changed. Everyone noticed it the way Mike always checked on Will first, the way they gravitated toward each other without thinking. When they were little, they were inseparable.
It always felt right.
Mike next to Will. Will next to Mike.
And then Will came out. Said all those things about himself, about being different. About liking boys. About being “that”. And Mike told himself it was fine. That nothing had changed. That Will was still Will, still his best friend.
The thought of living together wouldn’t leave him alone. Sharing groceries, doing laundry, being domestic in a way that felt way too close, way too intimate. It scared him. Not because he didn’t want to live with Will- God, he’d wanted that forever. When they were kids, it was their dream. Endless sleepovers, staying together no matter what.
But something had changed.
Because how could Mike ever be like him?
They were different now.
Weren’t they?
But that was when they were the same.
Mike had always thought that was why they worked so well because they were similar. Liking the same comics, laughing at the same stupid jokes, liking the same food their moms always made for them. But Will liked boys. And Mike didn’t. He couldn’t. That wasn’t him. He wasn’t like that. He wasn’t.
The idea made his chest tighten. Made something ugly crawl up his spine. Because if he let himself want that future with Will, really want it, then people might look at him differently. Might think things. Might say things. Might put him in the same box they’d put Will in.
And Mike didn’t want that box. Because he doesn't like boys.
The thought of it made Mike stay up all night. He doesn't want to drift apart from Will. He kept telling himself he wasn’t terrified of how right it all felt, and how wrong he’d been taught that feeling was supposed to be.