Work Text:
Outside Berkley's freshman dorms, Will paced anxiously. He wasn't sure what he was anxious about. Things between him and Mike had been fine. Great even. So why did Will have a pit in his stomach?
His heart pounded against his chest as his eyes laid steady on the door. Just like that, Will felt thirteen years old again, too tall for his own body, too aware of his hands, his breath, the way he stood. There he was, with his stupid freckles and curly black hair that hung slightly over his eyes. He carried himself differently now though—almost self assured, or at least better at pretending. California had done that to him. Or maybe time had.
Before Will could collect his thoughts, Mike's arms were wrapped around him tight and warm.
“I’m so glad you made it! Let me show you my room, come on,” he said, pulling Will by the wrist.
Inside, the dorm lobby was filled wall to wall with students. Will dragged his duffel behind him as Mike weaved confidently through the chaos, offering quick hellos to people Will didn’t know.
“Sorry, it’s kind of insane today,” Mike said over his shoulder. “Everyone’s still in that ‘we made it to college’ phase.”
Will smiled faintly. “I think I skipped that phase and went straight to panic.”
Mike laughed, glancing back at him. “Yeah, that checks out.”
They climbed up two flights of stairs, Will focused on matching his pace and not overthinking the fact that Mike’s hand never let go of his wrist. Mike stopped at the end of the hall and fished his key out of his pocket. “Okay, this is me.”
The door swung open revealing a room that was so unmistakably Mike. The small bed in the corner was unmade, its blue comforter spilling onto the floor. The desk was cluttered with papers and old coffee cups, a typewriter sitting at its center. Fantasy posters covered the wall, filling up all the available space.
“It’s nice,” he said.
Mike watched him, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, “Yeah?”
“Yeah. It feels like you.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing compared to your fancy art school.”
“Yeah, well.” And that’s when Will saw it.
His painting.
He’d buried that memory so deep. And here it was, proudly displayed on Mike’s wall.
“I, uh, didn’t realize you still had that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Are you kidding?” Mike’s eyebrows shot up, his voice filled with excitement. “It’s probably the coolest thing I own. I mean, look at it!”
Will shyly smiled, “Mike, you don’t have to say that.”
“I’m serious, Will. You know I’ve always loved your art.” He paused, sitting on the bed, gesturing Will to join him. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that actually. For a long time now.”
Will felt hot flashes of panic as he sat by Mike’s side. “What is it?”
“You know how you said all that stuff about El? How she commissioned it and everything?”
Will could hardly breathe . Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “Uh, huh.”
Mike averted his eyes, his gaze dropping to the scuffed toes of his sneakers. “Well… I’ve been thinking,” he said finally. He exhaled, slow and shaky, and Will noticed how his hands trembled at his sides before he curled them into loose fists. “After everything you said that day back at WSQK…”
He trailed off, then forced himself to continue, the words coming out quieter, more careful. “Did you—” Mike swallowed. “El didn’t commission that painting, did she?”
Will shifted on the bed, suddenly too aware how loud his heartbeat sounded in his ears. Heat crept up his neck and settled in his cheeks, and he looked away, unable to meet Mike’s eyes.
Then Mike’s hand found his, his thumb brushed lightly against Will’s knuckles. “Will,” he said softly, lifting his head at last. His eyes pleaded in a way that made Will’s chest ache. “Please. Just be honest with me.”
Will swallowed hard. The room felt unbearably quiet. His fingers twitched in Mike’s grip, and for half a second he considered pulling away, letting the moment pass, pretending none of this had ever been said.
But Will knew he couldn’t lie. Not now. Not to him.
“No,” Will said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mike’s grip on his hand tightened.
“No,” Will repeated. “El didn’t commission it.”
Mike didn’t speak. He just watched, eyes wide, like he was afraid any movement might shatter whatever was happening.
“I made it for you,” Will went on, the words tumbling out faster now, like if he stopped they’d lodge in his throat. “I told myself it was just a painting. That it was easier to explain it that way. But it wasn’t—” He shook his head, a shaky laugh escaping him. “It was never just that.”
He felt his eyes start to water as he unburied the truth from so long ago. “Those weren’t El’s feelings. They were mine.”
Silence stretched between them. Will’s heart hammered so hard it almost hurt.
“I didn’t know how to say it,” he admitted quietly. “But it’s true Mike. I’ve always needed you. And I always will. I would’ve been so lost without you.”
Mike stared at him, stunned, lips parted like he was trying to find words and coming up empty. His hand tightened around Will’s, not letting go. “I always hoped it was you.”
“You… did?” he managed, his voice barely holding together.
Mike let out a quiet, almost nervous laugh, eyes dropping for a second before lifting again. “Yeah,” he said. “I told myself I was reading into it. That I wanted it to mean more than it did.” He shook his head. “But it felt like you. It always did. And then I started putting the pieces together and fuck I just felt like an idiot.”
“Don’t blame yourself. I was scared and confused.” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to lose you.”
Mike’s expression softened, “And you should know by now I’m never letting that happen.” He paused, tears finally falling from his eyes. “Will, I’ve missed you so much. I can’t keep pretending anymore.”
“You don’t have to. Never with me.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air felt charged, fragile, like one wrong breath could undo everything. Then Mike leaned in just slightly, giving Will time, giving him space.
Will closed the distance.
Their foreheads brushed first, very timid and unsure. Will laughed softly under his breath, the sound breaking through the tension. Mike smiled, eyes fluttering shut, and when their lips finally met, it was gentle, unrushed, and careful, like they were both learning something new and familiar at the same time.
When they pulled back, Mike rested his forehead against Will’s. “Took us long enough,” he murmured.
Will smiled, heart pounding, warmth spreading through him. “Yeah,” he said. “But we got here.”
“Thank you for being so patient with me. I know I’m fucked up, but I’m trying,” Mike cried.
Will rested his hand gently against Mike’s cheek, “I know, Mike. I know.”