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The morning started like any other.
Unremarkable, pain, boring, whatever Mike wanted to call it. Repetitive was probably the best word. Like water dripping from a well, droning on and on until the stone crumbled under its own weight. Right now, Mike felt like the mossy stone, though more rotted than grassy. His head hurt, not that it wasn't normal, Mile couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up without the dull pounding in his head.
He sighs, digging in his nightstand drawer, scrounging up some mystery pills, and downing them dry. Mike groaned before sitting up, stripping off his sweater as his tank top stuck to the skin on his back, slick and damp with sweat. Mike rested his head in his palms, exhaling a shuddering breath. He'd had another nightmare. Again, that wasn't out of place but this one was about Will. How Vecna had gotten him and Mike just stood there, frozen.
And without having Will by his side was troubling. Mike missed the shit out of him. He had a hard time admitting that to himself but after his third mental breakdown about a fantasy his brain was pushing to the forefront of his mind that wasn’t even true, Mike had a feeling that his emotions were a little more than friendly. Mike was whipped, and he was finally confident in himself to say so.
He just hoped he wasn't too late. You see, Will and him were back on speaking terms after a big argument that ended in tears, hugs, and profuse apologies. Thank god for that, because the months they weren't talking were absolute torture, like a fork scratching on a finely painted porcelain plate.
Mike dragged himself out of bed, sleepily wandering to the bathroom. He runs the sink, splashing the icy water on his face for a wake-up call. School was still out due to the “earthquake.” It was cool the first couple of weeks, just staying home and not having to do anything, but now, Mike wants structure back. He wants to go somewhere for eight hours a day and zone out until three forty-five.
Mike stares at himself in the reflection of the mirror. It's a carbon copy but it doesn't feel like him—a pale limitation, lacking in self-love. Mike sighs, brushing his teeth before heading downstairs and turning the corner to the basement, ignoring his dad snoring on his La-Z-boy. Mike quietly descends the steps, his fingers grazing the wooden railing with a sense of familiarity.
Will's sitting on his mattress, sketchbook in his lap as he sits crisscross applesauce, his tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips for concentration.
“Moring.” Mike smiles, his voice laced with sleep as he sits down in front of Will.
“Oh, shit!” Will jumps, looking up at Mike with a surprised expression. “Dear lord, Mike.”
“Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.” Mike chuckled, leaning towards Will’s drawing, examining the page.
“Watcha drawing?”
“Nothing really. Just stuff around me.” Will explained, turning the book around, placing a finger on the page, and sliding from sketch to sketch.
“Cool,” Mike said, his eyes wandering from the different illustrations until landing on Will.
“What?
“Nothing.”
“BREAKFAST!” Screamed Holly, and that broke Mike out of his trance.
⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄
Mike’s mom slid a plate of pancakes, eggs, and sausage in front of him with a kiss before moving on to Will. They fell into the same rhythm as every other day.
Will took his seat at the table before Mike as Mike scooted his chair closer to Will, their thighs pressed together and their knees touching as they whispered about bullshit to each other. It was good, stable even. Having this routine with Will kept Mike sane.
“Did you hear that loud ass thunder crack last night?” Mike whispered, a mouth full of pancakes as he snatched the syrup off the table. His mother gave him a look, raising an eyebrow at his cussing. Mike ducked his head, a silent apology, before turning his attention back to Will.
“Holy, yeah. It woke me up.” Will snickered, stealing a sausage patty from Mike as Mike took a pancake from his plate.
“Bro, that shi—stuff was scary,” Mike remarked, his eyes shifting over to his mother briefly to see if she caught his slip-up. Luckily, her focus was now on Holly and the butter everywhere but her mouth. He was in the clear.
“Yeah. I thought it was a demo or something.” Will smiled, laughing quietly as he cut his pancake in half.
“God, I would've freaked the fuck out.” Mike laughed along. His mother cleared her throat, her patience wearing thin. Why was she only listening to the part of their conversation when Mike cursed? Selective hearing at its finest Mike guessed.
Breakfast carried on but Mike was distant. He wanted to go up to his room with Will and get away from his family. To just sit in the dim glow of lamps and tell Will all his secrets, their hushed voice barely audible over the sound of music coming from Mike’s stereo. He wanted Will to know how he felt and that he'd been feeling this way for years. But most of all, Mike wanted Will to teach him how to paint.
It was something that Mike always wanted to do with him but with everything going on around them, he never had time to ask. But now, with school being out, him and Will being back on speaking terms, and Vecna being nowhere to be seen, Mike finally had an opening.
⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄
Breakfast slowly faded into lunch as Mike stayed up in his room, pacing. He’d been reading a comic book until his leg started to shake and the words on the page blurred. Mike realized that he’d been reading the same sentence over and over for two minutes, not taking in a word of what the character was saying. Mike groaned, flopping down on his bed with an exasperated sigh.
He wanted Will.
To hang out with him.
To talk to him.
Literally anything.
His mom had taken hold of Will after breakfast to help clean up the house. Well, not really. Karen had asked for help, and being the perfect kid Will was, he was the first to offer to assist her. So that’s Mike’s conundrum, just a whole lot of waiting. He started to get very bored, so Mike got a little…creative? He moved his bed to the other side of his room, tilting his head to the side before moving it back to its original place.
Mike had also decided to rearrange his comic book collection. It used to be alphabetical order, but he decided to try color coordination. After an hour, Mike realized he hated it and immediately changed it back.
Ultimately, after what felt like eons, Mike heard a knock on his door. He practically flew to the handle, swinging it open.
“Hey. I finally escaped.” Will laughed breathlessly. He looked tired, probably from cleaning for three straight hours. Will’s cheeks had a red flush dusting them as his posture was slumped over, his eyes sunken and distant.
“Thank god. That felt like fucking decades.” Mike sighed, pulling Will into his room.
He blundered in, tripping over his feet as Will rubbed his eyes. Well, it seems like the painting plan will have to wait until later since it would be criminal if Mike let Will stay up for even one more second.
“You’re taking a nap.” Mike declared, already pushing Will to his bed.
“Mike, I don't need—” Will’s body visibly melted into the mattress with a groan, his eyes closing with a calm smile on his face.
“You were saying?” Mike teased, pulling the covers over Will’s relaxed body.
“Shut up.” Will protested weekly as the familiar scent of Mike drifted into his nose and lulled him into sleep.
Mike had to physically restrain himself from kissing Will on the forehead. It was very, very, tempting. His soft chocolate hair seemed like it was calling Mike’s name to push it aside and leave a chase kiss on Will’s skin. After an internal battle, Mike gave in. Moving Will’s hair and laying a gentle kiss right above his eyebrows. Mike could’ve imagined it, but he was pretty sure Will’s smile grew a bit.
⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄
Around three, Will started to stir. Mike had been sitting at his desk while Will rested, working through his comics when he heard a groan. Mike spun around in his chair, the newsprint folded between his fingers.
“Hey…” Will yawned, rolling over on his back as he rubbed his eyes.
“Hey, feeling better?” Mike questioned, putting his comic down and stretching out, his limbs shaking.
“Yeah, much better.” Will chucked, sitting up in bed as he hunched over, laying his chin in his hand. Will’s eyelids fluttered, as if they were trying to drag him back into the murky depths of sleep. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing. I was just reading.” Mike said tossing over the comic he was on to Will, getting up out of his chair, and walking over to his bed.
“Mind if I borrow?” Will asked, looking up at Mike as he slid into bed next to him, reaching over to grab the book.
“We can just read together right now.” Mike shrugged, leading into Will’s side as Mike placed his arm around Will’s shoulders, tucking him into his chest.
“O-oh…sure.” Will stuttered, a flush casting across his face as he got comfortable in Mike’s arms.
It was normal for them, at least, it used to be. Mike was always touchy with Will. Hugs, thigh brushes, cuddling, it wasn't a foreign concept to him. Even when his dad had sat Mike down and talked to him about how boys shouldn't share a bed, Mike protested by having Will over for a week and sleeping with him shirtless every night. It made his dad furious but Mike didn't care. That was—is his best friend. And the last thing he wanted was for Will to feel uncomfortable in a house that was basically his second home.
But now…now it was different. Mike had all these…thoughts and feelings about Will, about his best friend. So every touch was overthought until Mike’s head split in two. Each time Will’s eyes would cast downwards when Mike skimed his fingers across Will’s arm when they were sitting felt like something more.
A voice in his head always echoed when Mike would stare at Will’s lips, a loud constant reminder that boys shouldn't feel this way. Mike had repeatedly tried to block it out and yes, the screaming had dulled to a whisper, like the crushing waves against rocks as they evened out to the shore, but it was permanently there; waiting for Mike to stare at Will again that was a bit too long for just friends.
They stayed like that for a while, softly breathing as their limbs tangled. Mike didn't know how long they sat knotted together until Will’s stomach growled. They shared a look with each other before laughing, their foreheads touching.
“Hungry?”
“Yeah.”
⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄
Will chewed on his ham sandwich as he drew, swiping off a drop of mayo from his sketchbook. He tsk-ed, rolling his eyes slightly while licking his thumb. Mike had stopped eating a while ago, opting to instead watch Will. He'd always loved to people-watch but Will was different.
He talked with his face. Even though he was just drawing, Will always had an expression. If he had a line he didn’t like, Will’s face would scrunch up and a crease between his eyebrows would appear. If Will did something he thought was really good, his face would relax again, and a small self-satisfied smile would cross his lips.
It was tantalizing to watch. More than that.
“Hey, so, I wanted to ask you something,” Mike said, pretending to read his comic as he looked up at Will.
“Shoot,” Will muttered, half listening as he was too engrossed in his painting.
“I wanted you to teach me how to paint.”
Will's hand stopped moving, his brain registering for a moment what Mike had just said before he looked up, his eyes sparkling.
“Really?!” Will beamed, scrambling up to lead over Mike’s bed, looking down at him as his body basically shakes with excitement.
“I mean, yeah. I've always wanted a sort of lesson but I never found a good time.” Mike chuckles, sitting up a bit from his slouching position on the wall as he stares back at Will. Mike really just wanted to grab Will’s face and kiss him senseless but he withheld, deciding to just stare at his lips before his eyes snapped back up, the voice in his head pinging in his brain.
“Wow, I-i mean, I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me that for like, years!” Will sighed, immediately crawling off Mike’s bed, stumbling to the door. “I’ll be right back!”
Mike heard Will thump down the stairs and go to the basement, collecting god knows what. Mike's leg shook in tandem with Will’s footsteps as he ran back up to Mike’s room, a plethora of art supplies in his arms.
“Okay, okay, here.” Will panted, sitting down on the floor in front of Mike and dumping the supplies on the hardwood. Cups and paint brushes spilled from his hands as Mike reached over and dug under his bed, pulling out the old sketchbook Will had gotten him last Christmas that he could finally use.
Will quickly put everything in its place, lining the brushes up from smallest to largest and placing a cup in front of Mike.
“You want water in that—”
“Yes!”
Will was back up on his feet within seconds, running to the bathroom before coming back with two paint cups full of water. Will tucked his legs under him as he sat, a beaming smile on his face as his body vibrated with excitement.
“Okay, we’ll start with value and shading. Then you can paint a landscape.” Will explained with his hands, opening his sketchbook as Mike followed suit.
Mike nodded, hung on every new word Will was teaching him. Will illustrated how the colors bend together to make a cohesive picture. How each shade has its opposite and how they work concurrently to form new pigments.
“Each line you draw means something,” Will told him, “Even the ugly ones.”
Mike zoned out a couple of times, mainly focusing on how Will just lit up about painting. He theorized that it was probably due to the fact that Will hadn't been able to have a moment like this in years. Will's childhood had been ripped away from him so days like this were few and far between. Something normal, something steady. Will had a childhood innocence in his eye that Mike hadn’t seen since they were children on the swingset.
Through the nostalgia, Mike recognizes that sparkle. It's the same one that the party used to get when talking about D&D. Will's always seemed to burn brighter, though, especially when he would put on his Will the Wise outfit.
And now, that same spark was back, and Mike got to experience it all over again. Mike zoned back in when Will was talking about paint brushes and how the thickness affects the drawing. Mike’s pretty sure that he zoned out during the part when Will was explaining different canvases, but Mike believes that he doesn’t really need to know that.
“You know your primary colors, right?” Will looked up, shoving some paint brushes into Mike’s arms.
“Yes, Will. I took third grade with you.” Mike chuckles, rolling his eyes as he places the brushes in his cup of water.
“Right, sorry. I'm just covering all my bases.” Will apologizes, looking down while rubbing his neck. “Alright, I think we're ready. Wanna paint?”
“Yes please.” Mike sighed, leaning back on his wall as Will got his paints ready. He drizzled out different shades onto a small palette. Cobalt, ivory, chartreuse, etc. It was nice to watch Will in his element. The soft sound of rain patterning outside as Will quietly hummed to himself, his fingers moving with practiced precision over the pant tubes. It hit Mike with a wave of nostalgia again, bringing him right back to the time when Will would gush about new paint sets he'd gotten, not stopping until someone else changed the subject.
Mike wanted to reach out and lace their fingers together but he stopped himself, instead opting to let Will just do what he needed to. After prep, Will was ready.
“Come sit next to me.” He smiled at Mike, the corners of his eyes crinkling as Mike slid over to him. “Great, let’s start with something simple. Just paint what's outside your window.” Will explained, picking up a pencil as he began to sketch. Mike followed along, chewing on the tip of his pencil as he stared out the glass. Trees stared back at him, waving in the wind. Mike tiltedhis head before sneaking a glance at Will’s paper.
Hmm, nice.
He thought before looking back out the window. Mike began with just drawing out the trees. Foliage and leaves covered his stationery as Mike got lost in his pencil scraping against the sheet. He got why Will loved painting, this was really fucking relaxing. The sensation of lead sliding across paper to create a beautiful image that your brain came up with was in a way, poetic. Mike kinda zoned out, just letting his hand glide over the page and sketching whatever came to mind.
After an hour or so, Mike leaned over, placing his head on Will’s shoulder as he held up his sketchbook.
“How does that look?” Mike mutters, awaiting Will’s approval.
“Mike, that's really good!” Will praised softly, his finger tracing over the intricate line work. “At least for your first time. I like it.”
“Thank you.” Mike's heart smiled, mirroring his face. His cheeks brightened a hue, his eyes casting down to Will’s finger.
“I think you're ready for paint,” Will said sliding over the palette.
Mike's fingers grazed over his a second too long, taking the paints into his hand as he lay his sketchbook on the hardwood. Will explained which brush to use first and Mike gingerly plucked it out of the cup. He dipped it in the darkest green to start as Will mentioned little tips he uses while panting. Mike hummed to himself as he caught onto a rhythm. He let the paintbrush and the delicate line work lead him before washing out the color and picking a new one.
Okay, scratch that, painting is better than drawing.
Mike's body felt warm. And he didn't know if it was being in proximity to Will or that he found something that made him feel…good. Something that made him useful, his skillsuseful. Something that didn't make him feel like a burden.
“Hey, what should I—”
Will turned his head to the sound of Mike’s voice at the exact moment Mike turned his, Will’s paintbrush colliding with Mike's face. A streak of sage came into contact with his cheek, smearing across the flushed skin.
“Shit, I'm sorry.” Will laughed, reaching out to swipe the color away from Mike’s face.
“You’re so totally not!” Mike protested, his smile growing as he picked up his own brush and dipped it in the blue, sliding it across Will’s forehead.
“Mike!” Will scoffed, rubbing his skin as he giggled. He retaliated by copying Mike, slathering his brush in yellow and swiping it on Mike’s other cheek.
“You bitch!” Mike yelled even though there was no bite in his tone, only euphoria.
The paintings were discarded as Mike and Will’s attention was now on each other and the paint flinging in their faces. Mike started it first, grabbing his palette and flinging it onto Will’s shirt. It splattered on the cotton before tumbling to the ground, an array of mixed colors now adorning Will’s shirt. Will followed suit, throwing his own palette at Mike as they laughed.
“You suck!” Will yelled, swiping his shirt with his hand as he tackled Mike to the ground, pinning him on the hardwood before stamping his face with muddy paint. Mike looked up at Will, wiping his lips before the paint dried. He was smiling, a real smile. Something Mike hadn't seen in a while. They were both breathing heavily as Mike’s eyes searched Will’s, looking to see if he wanted the same as Mike did.
“Did I get any in your eye?” Will whispered, staring down at Mike’s lips before snapping his eyes back.
“No,” Mike whispered back, pursuing Will’s eyes with his own.
“Good.”
“Yeah, good.”
Silence filled the room except for the light padding of rain outside. Mike gingerly reached up and placed his hands on Will’s waist, his thumbs dipping below the fabric of his shirt, tracing circles. Will’s breath hitched, it was small but noticeable as Mike’s surprisingly cold hands came into contact with his skin. Mike glanced back up at Will who was already looking at him, his eyes scared but with a glimmer of want. Will nodded, the motion barely there but Mike saw it, he understood what it meant.
Gently, Will leaned down and met Mike in the middle, their lips touching. Mike's stomach clenched, the voice in his head banding on his skull to stop, stop what he's doing because he's running a friendship that meant more to him than his life. But Mike didn't care, not with Will’s soft lips on his and the little noises escaping Will's mouth. It was hesitant at first, a combination of nerves and guilt but it quickly softened into a familiarity. Mike knew that he wanted this, and he knew what Will wanted this too. Mike’s hands ran up his shirt, gliding across the expanse of his chest. Mike didn't even mean it sexually, he just wanted to know.
After a while, Will pulled back, his face flushed and his lips wet. His breathing was far more erratic as he stared down at Mike.
“I think I got paint in my mouth…” Will whispered, a tone of disbelief in his voice.
“Y-yeah, me too.” Mike breathed out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before pulling Will back down for another kiss.