Archive of Our Own ^beta

This is not good. This is anything but good.

The storm can start any minute, and yet Will is standing on the porch of the house, the new house, two-story house, a gift from the government, apparently to apologize for fucking up their lives. He's completely freezing, but also burning from anger. His hands are shaking, his breath is uneven. He looks right into Mike's eyes, furious and eager.

Will is officially done. He's done being nice, he's done hiding, he's done forgiving and acting like everything is fine. He's done caring too much about everyone but himself.

“Why are you always like this?” Mike asks sharply, brows furrowed.

“Like what, Mike? Like what?”

He takes a slow breath through his nose. “You're always, always acting like I didn't do anything wrong. Like I’m not wrong. And well, maybe I am. You know I fucked up, I treated El like shit, I treated you like shit, I always do. So why, the fuck, can't you just let me go?”

Will raises his eyebrows. “How the fuck can you make everything about yourself?”

Mike doesn't say anything. He just waits for Will's move, but there's no move.

Will's brain can't keep up with it. Mike has been acting weird the whole day. He brought chinese for him and El, but nothing for Will. El ended up sharing with him, but he was too busy biting his cheeks so he wouldn't cry. Mike said he didn't know Will was home. It's not true. Where else could he be?

Will could feel Mike's eyes on him all the fucking time. Searching. Drilling a hole in his head.

And yet, he didn't say a word to Will, the whole dinner and the time after. He was barely talking to El, too. He was just observing, staring at the siblings, frowning, squinting, maybe thinking. It's not like Mike at all.

Will had a great time with El, though, and he even thought that maybe he's really finally getting over Mike. But that's also a lie, because every time Mike was making that confused or concerned face, Will wanted to hug him and tell him that whatever is worrying him, it's going to be okay.

The whole drama started when they sat down on the couch. El sat next to him, making a silent alliance - we're not paying attention to his behavior for our own good sake. Mike sat in front of them.

“So,” he said. He didn't continue. El probably made a face, because he snapped, “What?”

“Mike, what's-” Will started, but Mike frowned at him, so he gave up.

But really, what's wrong with him? Why did he come to their house anyway, if he didn't want to talk? Or act nice?

“Mike, what is going on with you?” El asked, taking advantage of a moment of silence.

“Nothing, nothing is going on! Nothing new,” he huffed.

“Is that about what I've said about Je-”

“Nothing is wrong, Eleven,” Mike snapped. Eleven?

And Will immediately knew that there's something big going, obviously, but noone, not even Mike, can treat his sister like that so-

“Hey, don't talk to El like that!” Will said louder than he wanted to. “You've been treating her like shit the whole afternoon, come on, man. Have you just come here to act like- that, or what?”

“Well, I-” Mike lifted his eyebrows. “I haven't come here for her, so-”

“Oh, great,” El hissed. “I thought we were over it, I thought you were over it,” he said and stormed out of the living room.

So yeah, maybe El tried to make things better with them, and maybe she still loves him, but Mike obviously doesn't feel that anymore, so. It has to be it, because why is Mike like that?

Will waited for a moment, listening into the quiet buzzing of the fridge from the kitchen. He thought Mike would run away, like he does these times, but he hasn't moved yet.

When Will carefully glanced at Mike, two brown eyes were already staring into his soul. Mike was looking like a mess, dark and quiet. Will wanted to hug him, to stroke his head, to let him cry on his shoulder. He didn't. He was just sitting on the couch.

“What?” Mike hissed after a moment. His jaw was visibly tense.

Will didn't say anything.

“Right,” Mike huffed, eyes still on Will. “You can say how awful I am, now, and how much you hate me, and- and that I should get the fuck out of your house. Go on.”

“What? No! I don't-” Will tried, because what the fuck?

“Bullshit,” Mike glanced at the window. “I know how it is, Will, I'm not blind. I know you don't like me anymore, not like that, I guess. I know we're not that close anymore. And I know it's my fault so- Just say it.” Mike's voice was bitter, sharp like a knife. Like he wanted Will to hate him.

“Mike, what the fuck?” Will got up rapidly as his blood started to boil.

“You know what? Fine. I'll make it easy for you,” Mike stood up from the couch and came dangerously close to him. “We're done, too. I'm done hurting you. I- I'm not done. I'm a shitty friend, best friend, if you can even call me that. You can find someone way better, someone normal. So yeah. We're done.”

“Normal?” Will frowned.

Mike moved towards the door. He quickly grabbed his jacket and he was gone. Of course Will ran after him. Of course he grabbed his arm to make him stay. Of course he couldn't let him go.

So here they are, on the wooden porch, humid air around them, smelling wet and earthy.

Mike's still not moving.

This is fucked up. They both fucked up and he hates it. They shouldn't be like that.

“Just please, let me go,” Mike says quietly, no more anger in his voice. He sounds hurt. Will can't keep up with him. He doesn't remember how to breathe. He can't think, even though thinking would be really helpful here.

“God, Mike, what is your problem?” he huffs. “I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to be a good friend. I'm doing everything I can to make you happy, I always did. And yet you're telling me I’m the one being wrong?”

Mike bites his lower lip so hard that they become a little red from blood.

Will tries to calm down but he can't. It's too much. “I did everything to make you happy. Everything! I- I really tried to fix you and El, I agreed to be a doormat, I agreed to be forgotten, to be the one that comes last, God, I did everything I could to make you feel better.”

“You're not forgotten-” Mike starts, but Will is quicker, running on the overtaking fury.

“You've forgotten about my birthday, Mike. Twice. About my birthday!” Will says, close to telling. He can't feel anything, only anger. It's like the dam that has been holding his feelings finally broke, and now they both are drawing in a pure desolation of his.

“I- I haven't, Will, I just-” Mike's eyes widen, like he just saw a bear near to attack him.

“Oh, so my so-called best friend hasn't forgotten my birthday, he's just chosen not to give a damn about it. That's better, thank you,” Will bites his cheeks so hard he can taste his own blood. It nearly covers the bitter feeling down his throat. “Even today, you've forgotten that I might like to eat dinner. You always forget about me, and I always care. How can you- how can you even live like that?”

“I thought you were out,” Mike hisses. His expression is unreadable. Not that Will cares. “It wasn't on purpose.”

“Yeah, right,” Will snorts. “Where would I even be?”

“With that- girl. With Jennifer Hayes. I thought you were with her.”

Now that's unexpected.

“What? Why would I ever go out with Jennifer Hayes, Mike?” he frowns, voice higher than he wishes.

“El told me she was hovering around you. I- you know, whatever,” Mike breaks their eye contact for the first time, to stare at the floor.

“First of all, there's no one hovering around me. And second of all, even if there was- someone, why do you even care?” Will huffs. This conversation is getting weirder and weirder.

“I don't,” Mike says sorely. “Actually, do whatever you wanna do. Yeah, like, fall in love, start a family, be happy and all. Just let me go. I- I can't take it anymore, I have to go home.”

“Oh god, Mike. You need to stop it. Look, I get it, you're sad because of you and El, but why is that on me? It's not my fault you don't love her!”

“It is!” Mike yells, but then completely freezes, eyes wide and dark, mouth slightly open.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Will hisses. He doesn't remember when he was this mad. Especially at Mike.

Everything around them goes silent. The only thing they can hear is a silent tapping of raindrops on the roof above the porch. The sky slowly turns red, just like in the Upside Down. It's not a normal storm, but is anything normal here?

Mike doesn't respond. He looks frozen in time, shocked and kind of devastated. Will really wishes he didn't, but he wants to put his arms around him, take him inside and make him hot chocolate. And then just forget about anything that happened between them today.

But he can't. He promised himself.

He takes a step forward, then another one, gentle, because Mike looks like he's afraid of him.

“Why would you say that?” Will says with a lower voice, soft enough to make Mike look him in the eyes again. He takes a deep, shaky breath. His eyes are bigger than ever.

“I-” Mike tries. He freezes again.

“Mike, why would it be my fault?” Will asks carefully. The rain is getting heavier. They really should go back inside.

“I can't- I have to go, I really do. I'm sorry, Will.” Mike breathes out and runs to his car.

“Mike!” Will yells but doesn't run after him. “Mike, get back here, it's raining! You- It's not safe!” he tries, but Mike is already driving away.

That was the weirdest fight they've ever had.

Will cannot calm down. His blood still feels like it's boiling, but not exactly, because he's not angry anymore. He's just confused. Concerned. And something else.

The thing Mike has said to him rings in his brain as he wanders around his room.

It is.

It is your fault that I don't love her.

It is.

Suddenly, the yellow paint on the walls is too bright, too overwhelming. He lays down and hides his face in the pillow. The rain is louder than it should be.

Why would it be his fault? What did he do to make Mike stop loving El? It feels like the answer is somewhere near him, he just can't reach it. Or like he doesn't want to reach it.

Because Will knows that it has nothing to do with his own actions. He did nothing wrong, he wanted to help and he did help, for some time. He was the one to convince Mike to tell El that he loves her. He was the one glueing them piece by piece from the day Mike arrived in California. He was the one who put El's and Mike's relationship first, he was the one stepping behind. And finally, he was the one who's disappearing made Mike find El in the woods. He did nothing that would make Mike think what he said.

There's no logical answer to Will's questions.

Mike is weird. Well, all of them are weird, but when he was standing on this porch, he was acting so strange that Will's head couldn't contain it. Mike has always been the hot-headed one, the one that fights till the end, the one that physically cannot surrender. And yet, he ran away. He let Will yell at him, tell him these awful things and then he ran away.

He was visibly frightened. Maybe he was afraid of Will, maybe he saw that rage coming out of his whole body and maybe he thought Will would hit him or something. Hurt him, somehow.

Will can picture Mike shutting the door of his bedroom, jaw tight. Lying on his bed, hiding his face into his hands, trying to calm down. Taking Will's drawings off of his walls. Unswearing their friendship once and for all. He can't stand this thought. Maybe Mike screwed up, but so did Will, and to be honest, he's the one who's been lying to his best friend for years. He's the one hiding his feelings, trying to escape, to avoid the truth. He also hadn't reached out to Mike in Cali. It's on them both.

Maybe Mike really thought Will doesn't want to be friends anymore. Maybe he still thinks that. Maybe that's why he said he was done, maybe he really wanted to make things easier for Will. Maybe he wanted to rip off the bandaid.

That's not right. Fuck the self promises.

Apparently a huge dose of adrenaline spreads through Will's body, because he doesn't even feel his body moving, when he stands up and basically runs in front of the house, just to get on his bike and hurry towards Mike's house. Thank God his new house is like a 5 minute ride from Mike's, because it rains so heavily that he can barely see the road.

His bike lands on the wet ground, when he rushes to the front door. His hand is on the handle, when he feels it moving.

“Oh shit!” Mike hisses, his hand on his heart.

“God, I'm so sorry, I didn't want to scare you,” Will squeaks. He feels his heart racing, and it's not from running or biking.

“No, it's okay,” Mike says, barely smiling. Will takes a quick moment to look at him. He looks awful actually, his face is pale, kind of greyish, eyes wide and a little red. Scared. Hurt. Devastated, even. Will wants to hug him. He wants to put his hands on his cheeks, calm him down somehow. “What are you doing here?” Mike asks quietly.

“I- I wanted to see you,” he says. He sounds more tentative than he wishes to. “I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt, um. We can talk tomorrow, or any time you want. I'll go back home, you can continue that- anything you wanted to do.”

Mike lets out a short breath. “I was going to- um, I wanted to see you, too.”

“Me?” Will squeaks again, and God, he sounds so desperate.

His embarrassment floats away when he sees Mike's smile widen a little. “Yeah, um, you. Of course I wanted to see you,” he says faintly.

“Oh-”

“Would you like to, um, come inside? We have to dry you up. Your hair is soaking wet,” he steps back to make room for Will. Suddenly he can feel every trickle of water running down his nape.

Mike leads him to the bathroom upstairs, just like Will hadn't spent half of his life in this house. He doesn't say anything when he hands him a clean towel, a hairdryer and a pile of clothes.

“Thanks,” Will mutters. Mike just nods and closes the door of the bathroom.

This is not good. This is worse, even, because he'll have to concentrate while wearing clothes that smell like Mike, which is not possible. Why is Mike making this so hard for him? He just wants to talk, to say sorry, to forget and go on with their lives. The only thing is - that's not true. He doesn't want to sweep it all under the rug. It's not fair. He needs to be honest, and so does Mike. They used to tell everything to each other, and this may be their last conversation ever, because Will's truth is not an easy one, unless being in love with your best friend of almost ten years while both of you are boys is easy.

Will can sense the tension from the hallway. The door of Mike's bedroom is slightly open, but he still knocks.

“Come in,” Mike whines. His face changes from a frown to something softer yet more frightened when he sees Will. “Oh, um, I thought it's my mom. You don't have to knock,” he says and Will can't miss the flush that comes to Mike's face.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “I didn't want to interrupt you,” he says, which is (again) a lie. He knocked because he's fucking scared. He's scared to look at Mike's face, to see the anger, the disgust, something that would tell him that they're over. And, the most important thing, he really doesn't want to think or talk about what happened at his house. About what Mike had said.

He does look at him eventually, because what else to do, and Mike- he's giving him the smallest, most sheepish smile he's ever given him. It's contagious.

“What?” Will frowns and laughs anxiously, because it's absurd. They had the worst fight in their whole history an hour ago, and Mike is just there, sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes wide, a small blush spreading on his cheeks - if Will's not imagining it.

“I'm just- Did your really ride in this fucking storm to see me?” Mike breathes out, like this question took more strength from him than it should.

“I- Yeah. I did,” Will says and chooses to stop standing in the door frame like an idiot. He closes the door behind him and carefully sits next to Mike, a proper space between them. Mike's expression changes. He stares at his knees, frowning. For the millionth time this day, Will wants to hold him, calm him down, and, fuck, he wants to kiss him and he wants Mike want the kiss. A pie in the sky. He won't do any of this, obviously. He can't, it's not okay to use Mike in this poor state of mind to fulfill his horrible dreams. Tonight is about making their friendship right. To open up just right to make them okay, without spilling too much. “I don't want to fight,” Will says after a moment of silence.

“You should,” Mike murmurs, eyes still on the ground.

Will frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mike lifts up his head, still frowning. “You should want to fight with me. I- It's not okay for you to forgive me so easily. I messed up, I-” he bursts out. “I'm destroying everything. It's my fault. I- I think I'm broken, Will.”

“Hey, don't say that,” Will says softly. He feels like he's going to cry. “I can't imagine a single thing that is broken in you, Mike.” He wishes he could say more. He wishes he could tell Mike how much he means to him, how he makes his life better, easier, even though sometimes he's messing things up. He wishes Mike could see himself with Will's eyes.

“Will, you don't even know-” Mike groans and presses his palms to his eyes. Will wants to put both hands on his cheeks and scream into his face. “God, it's just- I know I've been pushing you away. I'm sorry. But I guess I've been feeling that you're pushing me away, too. And I- I just thought you don't want me anymore. In your life. Because I did so much harm, I- I can't blame you. Just please, tell me the truth.”

There's a beat of silence. Will closes his eyes tightly, as if it would do anything for him. Tell the truth. But he can't. He won't. He can say something, but not everything. There are things that Mike had done and said to him, even more that he hadn't. Will can operate with that.

He wasn't aware of his heart pounding so loudly. “You'd hurt me, Mike,” he manages to say. He really is about to cry. “You had, multiple times. You- you had said things, and sometimes I'd felt that you'd abandoned me. And something I still feel like that. Today, I- I felt that. We used to be best friends, and now I feel like a liability to you, to everyone, but especially you.”

Will can't believe he said that. It's something that'd been running in his brain for God knows how long. Something he'd been pushing away, because he loves Mike too much. He hadn't been able to believe that Mike could ever hurt him like that.

He feels two big, warm drops of tears run down his cheeks when he closes his eyes. He loves Mike, but he should love himself, too. Maybe this is something you do, when you love yourself. You're honest.

He can't look at Mike, not yet. “And, you know, the worst part of this whole thing is- that you really can be a great best friend. And every time I thought that we were over, you'd just come to me, with a movie and Reese’s Pieces or take me for a stupid walk, or sit with me at the lake, and I- I don't know, everything felt so normal. I don't know how long I can cope with that, Mike,” he says, digging his nails into a soft fabric of Mike's sweatpants that he happened to wear.

“That's because-” Mike tries, but takes a break to steady his breathing. Looks like Will isn't the only one going insanely anxious. “I'm so scared to tell you.”

Will finally glances at him. Mike looks like he's fighting an ugly cry. His eyes are wide, he's breathing heavily, and Will just can't take it. He loves Mike so much, too much to ignore his current state. Fuck that, fuck his dignity, fuck everything. He scoops closer, his thighs are almost touching, and he locks Mike in a hug.

It's enough to make Mike cry. He buries his face into Will's neck and grabs the front of his shirt. Will draws small circles on his back with one hand, the other gently scratches Mike's head. “It's okay, you're okay,” Will whispers and Mike shivers under his words. They sit like that for a few moments.

When Mike finally lifts his head, he's so beautiful. His cheeks and nose are red, eyes wide and shiny. His hair is messed up, but in a good way. This is sick of Will to think about it now, whenever, but he just can't help it. Maybe tomorrow they won't be friends anymore. Maybe this is the last time Will can look at him like that.

“How can I not love you?” Mike whispers after they part. He looks serious. Is that a joke?

Will doesn't know what to say, the only thing that comes to his mind and doesn't sound that weird is, “Who says you can't?” Well, maybe that is kind of weird. But well, who says you can't love your friends? You obviously can and it doesn't have to be romantic or anything like that.

“God, you don't get it. You-” Mike huffs and shifts, so he can stare at the wall again. “I hadn't forgotten about your birthdays. I'd been planning what I'll get you, what I'll say and- and in my head it had sounded so obvious and pathetic and I'd been scared you would notice,” he says in one breath.

“Notice what?” Will asks faintly.

Mike continues, like he didn't hear his question. “I hadn't forgotten about you, I've been thinking about you every day since, I don't know, probably since we met. It's like you live inside my head. I know I've been hurting you, I just- thought it would be for the better if I disappeared, so I kinda did. I've always thought that El would fix it, that it would be easier, better. Well, she hadn't. I keep hurting you both.”

“Wait, Mike, I don't understand. Notice what, fix what?” Will breathes out. He may be having a heart attack, right here, right now. Maybe he's hallucinating from the lack of oxygen.

“I- had been writing you letters. When you were in Cali, I had tried to call you so many times, and you hadn't answered, you hadn't called back, so- I'd started writing. The letters.”

Will just stares at him. He has to be hallucinating. He hears his blood directly in his ears, he can feel the hot blush spreading all over his whole body.

“I have them here,” Mike says and before Will can ask about what the fuck is happening and is he dying, he leans out and takes and piece of paper from his desk. There is more. A pile of neatly closed envelopes laughing Will in the face. Somehow, it feels like a slap.

“You'd let me think that you don't want to talk to me,” he says firmly, a bit too cold.

“You'd never called me back,” Mike says and his voice is so small and sad, and Will feels so stupid because he didn't even know Mike had been trying to call him in the first place.

“I didn't know you'd called. Really I- My mom was occupying the phone. I really didn't know,” he whispers. Stupid.

“I- had written- something. Could you, um, could you read it? Like, now?” Mike asks tentatively. The tears still glimmer on his cheeks.

Will makes a bold move. Very, very stupid. “Maybe you could read it- for me?”

“Oh.”

“I'm sorry, I- I can read it myself.”

“No, no. I'll read it.”

“You sure?”

Mike doesn't answer. Instead, he straightens the paper and takes a big breath. “Dear Will,” he murmurs, then squeezes his eyelids. A single teardrop streams slowly down his face, and that's enough for Will to reach for his hand. It's cold and sweaty. Will squeezes it once, to hopefully ground Mike, and it works, because he relaxes his muscles a little.

“You don't have to do this,” he murmurs. “It's okay.”

“But- would you read it, then?” Mike asks sheepishly, like the answer wasn't as clear as water.

“Of course,” Will smiles. Mike bites his lips with a short breath out. “And Mike, there's nothing in this universe, nothing in any universe that could make me hate you.”

“Im not so sure,” Mike whispers.

Their fingers are still entwined when Will starts reading.

Dear Will.

Today was a shooting star night. Me and the others went stargazing and all I could think about was you. I imagined how excited you'd be, I pictured your smile, so sweet, so sincere. Your eyes squint a little when you smile, you know? I miss that.

I think I miss everything about you. I miss your striped t-shirts, I miss your artist hands, I miss the spot above your lips. I miss how you laugh, even at my worst jokes. And you're so honest about it, and the sound of your laughter makes everything brighter. I miss how you draw, any time you can, I miss hanging your work on my walls and watching how proud you are of them. I miss your heart. I don't know anyone who's heart is bigger, more open. I miss your touch. I miss that magnetic feeling that pulls me to you every time you're near. Maybe not only, then, because you're no longer here, but I still feel that. I need you close and I guess my needs will never be fulfilled. Not anymore.

I screwed everything up. Maybe if I didn't, you'd still be here, with me. Maybe I wouldn't be writing this letter, maybe we'd have a sleepover in the basement, maybe you would let me hold your hand, like old times. That's all I've ever wanted. I'm sorry I took you for granted.

Tonight, I wished I could turn back time. If I could, I would've never ever said what I said when we were fighting in the rain. If I could, I wouldn't have let you leave my house the night Demogorgon got you. If I could, I would change so many things. Maybe if it all didn't happen, I would have you here.

I also wish I could send you the letter, but I can't. If you'd see it, you'd know why. I can't send it because I'm a coward, but please, understand me, I don't want to lose you. Not again, not anymore.

I can't lose El, too. And what kind of boyfriend I am, if I don't even think about her while watching shooting stars?

But I can't stop thinking about you, Will, and it's making me crazy. I think I'm going insane. I see you everywhere. At school, when we're supposed to find a pair, I always look for you. Sometimes, I see you at a lunch table. In every conversation, I think about what you'd say. I see you in every art project, I hear you in every song, I can't write a campaign that's not somehow connected to you. You're everywhere and you're everything, and it's exhausting.

No, it's not. I want to see you and hear you, I want you everywhere, and it scares me so much that sometimes I forget how to breathe. I know that this is wrong, and I'm so sorry. I promise that when we're finally back together, I will act normal. I won't be creepy, I won't be disgusting, I'll try. You won't even notice how much I love you.

Love, Mike

Will finds himself sobbing. There are a few wet dots on the paper. “Mike,” he whispers, because he can't find any words to describe how he feels. He carefully glances at Mike. He's frowning, a mix of sadness and fear on his face. His eyes are red, cheeks wet and shiny.

“I'm- I'm so sorry,” Mike whispers, voice trembling. “Please, don't run away. I know it's gross, I'm-”

“It's beautiful,” Will says softly and shifts to look at Mike properly.

“It's-” Mike breathes out. “It is?”

“Mike, is this why you were acting like… that?”

“I'm sorry,” he lets go of Will's hand and falls on his back. “I- I didn't know what to do. I still don't. I didn't want to be a burden. I did everything, everything to be normal, I swear, but it wasn't working. And I was so scared of- this,” he gestures vaguely. “And I was so, so dumb, because it's impossible to not love you, Will. It's not possible. And even if it would be, I don't want to stop loving you, ever. So I had this awful, stupid fucking idea to pull away from you. To make you hate me, so you'd leave me behind. So I couldn't hurt us. And I know this was stupid. I know. I'm so sorry, Will, I'm so sorry.”

He is sobbing. That breaks Will's heart. He's so stupid and Will loves him so much.

Will lays down on the bed. Their hands are slightly touching and Mike's is trembling. Will imagined that kind of moment since he was fourteen, and he'd thought he'd be more- anxious. He'd thought his heart would be pounding, that he'd be trembling too. But right now, he feels calm. Steady. Moved to his core. Mike loves him. Mike Wheeler loves him. The thing is, Mike Wheeler doesn't know that Will Byers loves him too.

Tears spring into his eyes. His hand finds its way back onto Mike's. Mike shudders from the touch. Will knows what he should say. He knows the words, he has said them in his mind millions of times, but it's harder than he thinks it would be.

So instead, he rolls on his side. Mike mirrors him immediately, like he's been waiting for this move. They're not sobbing anymore, but Will can still feel the tears running down his face, a warm reminder of how much he loves the boy staring at him with those big, dark eyes.

“Please, say something,” Mike says shyly. He's not scared anymore. There's something in his expression that Will can't quite read.

This is the moment when Will can feel his heart again, pounding so hard that his sure whole Hawkins can hear it. His hand trembles a little, when he places it on Mike's cheek and sweeps away a tear from under his eye.

He doesn't give himself any more space to think, when he scoops a little bit closer to Mike. Their noses are almost touching and there's a hint of anxiety in Mike's eyes again. Will gently squeezes his hand, and when Mike squeezes it back, there's nothing left to do, to think, to imagine.

Will kisses him once, a tentative, electric touch of lips. He did it. He kissed Mike Wheeler.

But what if Mike didn't want it? What if Mike hates loving him, what if Mike doesn't want to be with him like that? What if he understood him wrong?

“What does it mean?” Mike whispers sheepishly as he lifts himself up on his elbow. His voice is so careful, so full of hope that Will's panic mode completely disappears. He leans across his head though, so Will still doesn't know how to breathe properly.

“I love you too, Mike,” Will says and Mike's eyes widen. Oh god, Will could literally drown in them, he actually would like to drown in them, to drown in Mike Wheeler’s skin and never let go.

God, that's dramatic.

Will's hand wanders into Mike's hair, the back of his head.

“But- You mean, as a friend? Best friend?” Mike's voice is still careful, doubtful even. It makes Will want to cry again.

He presses gently on Mike's head, so he leans towards him. Their lips find each other again. The kiss is longer this time, but it still lasts for maybe three seconds. Mike's eyes grow even bigger when they part.

“Friends-,” Will whispers and glances at Mike's lips for a split second. They're the most addicting thing in the whole world. “Friends don't kiss each other, Mike.”

Mike inhales sharply, still handing above Will. Then, he smiles, so sincerely that Will's whole body fills up with butterflies and sunlight. For a moment they just look at each other, but then Mike leans closer and kisses Will, but it's different. It's urgent, it's hungry. He tastes like salty tears, like a sunset, like music and like happiness. He is everything.

Will slowly traces Mike's spine with his hand, just to tuck it under his t-shirt. Mike shivers under his touch and it's the most amazing thing in the world. The feeling of Mike's lips on his own, Mike's hands all over his body is undescribable. Will feels like he's dreaming, like flying all over the galaxy.

“Wait,” Will whispers after a good ten minutes, as Mike kisses a path from his jawline to the collarbone.

“Huh?”

“Maybe we should-” he moves from under Mike to properly lay in bed, like a normal person.

“Yeah, okay,” Mike says and wastes no time, already smooshing his lips all over Will's face, then again, down his throat.

They spend almost half of the night giggling, whispering and kissing. Kissing! And it's nothing like Will has imagined, it's a million times better, because Mike clearly wants it just as much as Will does. At some moments he thinks that Mike maybe wants it even more, and just a thought of it makes him go absolutely crazy.

It's not like he hasn't been ever thinking that Mike could want him, but he's also decided long ago that it's utterly impossible. It's not, though, so how could he not go crazy?

“Hi,” Mike whispers sweetly after what feels like eternity, when Will takes a short break for a breath and, additionally, to lean over Mike and take a proper look at him. Will has always known for the fact that he is beautiful, but now- His lips are kissed red, his hair messy, an intensive flush all over his cheeks and nose. And his eyes, big and shiny, glaring to Will's soul. He's more than beautiful. Will doesn't know how to put it in words. He's just- he's so Mike.

“Hi,” Will answers with the same sweet tone and the same shy smile.

“I love you so much,” Mike says, softly tucking Will's hair behind his ear. “You don't even know.”

All of the sudden Will feels a wave of very stupid uncertainty. “Really?” he asks, feeling his cheeks getting even more red.

“Of course,” Mike smiles. And again, it's so contagious. “I mean it. And I- I'm going to make it up to you. All of these years, I promise.”

Will feels like he really could float away if Mike wasn't holding his waist. “Yeah?”

“Oh, um,” this time Mike gets more red. He's so cute. “I'm sorry, that's okay if you don't want it,” he frowns.

Will can't hold a laugh. “Mike, are you kidding me?” he says and kisses him on the cheek, above his lips, on the eyebrow, under his eye, on the tip of his nose. “Of course I want it,” he kisses his lips. “How could I not want you?”

“Oh,” Mike smiles shyly. Will grins back. He feels like he's won a lottery.

“So,” Mike tugs his other hand under Will's shirt (of course it comes with a soft gasp of his own) and pulls him closer, if that's even possible, “I'm taking you on a date tomorrow. I mean, today. And you can't say no”

“Why would I say no?” he laughs, the sound of it is muffled by his neck.

“Well, I don't know, I'm just saying!” Mike pokes his ribcage.

“Okay. You can take me on a date, anywhere you want to,” Will murmurs. “But we should go to sleep.”

“Yeah, we should.”

“I love you too, by the way,” Will says as Mike covers them with a blanket.

“I know you do,” Mike kisses his head.

And as they both doze off, Will feels in every inch of his body that everything's going to be okay.