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It's the peak of spring, warm comfortable mornings and slightly chilly nights, when Will finds himself sprawled out on the carpeted floor of Mike's room, a pencil in hand as he sketches to oblivion, a tongue stuck out in concentration. Just like any other Friday evening after school.
The sounds of comic book pages flipping and pencils scratching stretch around the room as distant laughter bangs against Mike's closed door. Will thinks it's probably from Holly and Nancy.
Will lies on his stomach, kicking his feet in the air and his head propped up on one hand, engrossed in the world he's building on that piece of paper. His knees dig into the carpet below him next to Mike's bed. Speaking of Mike, he's sat against the head of his bed, probably a hundred pages into one of his stupid comics, occasionally letting out a groan as wind rushes through the window, blowing the curtains that frame it into Mike's field of view.
And Mike's too stubborn to let the curtain have what it wants, so he sits there, still, not moving an inch as he gets slapped with yellow fabric once in a while. Will finds himself shushing down a laugh every time he looks up to witness it.
Mike's been really clingy recently. Maybe it's because of his break up with El and realizing Will's happy to give him company. Until he gets another girlfriend to hang out with. Will doesn't know exactly. But there's been a shift in their friendship. A good shift.
Though he wants the best for his friend, he has to admit, Mike and El weren't… the best match. And it's not because Will is shamefully in love with Mike. They were obnoxious. And El just seems happier when she isn't tangling her arms around Mike. Mike too. He seems like himself again. The leader of the party, the theatrical dungeon master coming up with the most creative of campaigns. He's Mike The Brave again. The Paladin who snaps back at any bully troubling their party, their Cleric.
He has caught Mike doing odd things a couple times.
Often, Will catches him staring at the back of his head during class. Maybe there's something in his hair, he thinks. He felt him brush his fingers against his under the cafeteria table. An accident. At sleepovers, while everyone's dozing off and Will feels his own eyes get heavy, he sometimes feels Mike's hand snake round him under the covers. Mike's a cuddly person when he's drowsy. Sometimes he lays his head against Will’s shoulder. Again, he was probably half asleep. When the party watches a horror movie, Mike holds his hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing his hand at every jumpscare onscreen. He just doesn't like jumpscares and is seeking comfort in Will. No biggy, it's normal to be scared he thinks.
This is just how they are. They've always been this close.
Sometimes, it gives him hope. Hope that, maybe, Mike is like him too.
But he shoves that hope away quickly. Because even if Mike was like him, why would he ever choose Will? And he knows it won't happen. ‘Cause Mike is simply not like Will.
He feels the breeze hit him through the window, tousling his hair over his eyes. Soon after he hears Mike riffle through a couple pages before snapping the book shut, a yawn escapes his mouth.
It's not long before Will feels a presence to the left of him. Yet he pays no mind, still focusing on the creature he's made come to life on the piece of paper.
“Whoa, dude! Is that a Thessalhydra?” Mike gasps in awe as he positions himself next to Will, mimicking the way he's sat.
“I mean, kinda? I just made it up.” Will huffs out a laugh, hoping the pink blush creeping up his skin is unnoticeable.
“I keep forgetting you're an actual art prodigy.”
“I'm so not-”
“You so are!” Mike exclaims in conviction, “Why don't you ever submit stuff like this at that art club of yours?”
“I would. But not everyone likes DnD, Mike.”
“So?”
Will shrugs. He has no reason to bring something like this to his art club. But he also has no reason not to.
Mike sighs before rolling on his back, widening the gap between them that was non-existent before.
This is nice. Will wants to stay in this moment. This moment of tranquility and serenity–Whoa, big words. But it's as true as it is cheesy. College scares him. He doesn't want everything to change again. He doesn't want to grow distant from his best friend. Even though he dreams to be more, he's fine with this.
A groan escapes Mike's mouth before he speaks again, “We should do something fun.”
“Something fun?” Will looks at the boy in front of him shifting positions, crossing his legs and towering over him.
“Yeah.” Mike's eyes glow with mischief as he watches Will mirror his sitting position.
“Like what?”
Mike hums to the question, as if he's coming up with something on the spot. But Will has a feeling he's acting, and has had an idea since he slid down off his bed. But maybe it's just him.
“I- uh…” Mike stutters, a tiny crease forms between his brows. It vanishes just as fast as it appeared, “I heard, from the grape vine, that… hold on- there's this- I think you should draw me. Properly.”
“Are you commissioning me to draw your face?”
“Commissioning? What no- I mean yes. No. I don't know.”
Will gives him an amused look, “What are you actually asking for, Mike Wheeler?”
“Full name? Jeez-” Mike shivers, acting perfectly, “Look, I just, I don't know- want to help you. You know, with your art. Kinda.”
“Okay,” Will says slowly, “How?”
Mike lets out an audible groan, expressing annoyance, likely more at himself than Will, “I heard that there's this… exercise, that like, I don't know- help you draw better.”
“Yeah, isn't that what most exercises do?”
“Uh huh. We could do that.”
“How is that going to be fun? For you especially.” Will quirks his brows up at him.
“You could do it with touch.”
“What-”
Mike grows a bright shade of crimson but pushes on, “I- I mean, like… you know, I heard that an artist- sometimes instead of looking at the reference and drawing what they see, they draw what they feel. Touching it.”
“Who's teaching you all this? No way- are you seeing someone in my club?”
“What- No!” Mike becomes defensive, insisting he's not.
“Is it Jessica Wilson? Or maybe it's Sabrina Clarke?”
“No!” He exclaims, with an expression of… disgust?
“Then what? Are you stalking me? Your own best friend?”
“I'm not stalking you. I just- I heard what you guys were discussing the other day-” Mike looks straight into his eyes, “The day you made me wait for hours,” He says accusingly.
It's true. Mike insisted on walking him home that evening and Will told him he could. But he just didn't realise the session would extend for an extra hour. He did feel really bad for Mike. He promised to make up to him somehow one day.
“Sorry,” Will pouts.
“Yeah, so… this is how you can make it up to me…” A cheeky expression dances on Mike's face as his brows wriggle.
“I don't understand how this is making up to you-”
“It is,” Mike leans slightly forward, not close enough to make Will feel prickly in his own skin though, “please…” he pleads with those–god damn, puppy eyes of his. Sparkling like they hold the world behind them. They do, in Will’s eyes.
“Fine.”
“Okay. Cool. Great.” Mike jumps up from his spot on the floor.
“Wait what right now-”
Before Will can even think of protesting, he finds himself sitting on the bed, cross-legged against the bedframe. Mike sits across from him, at the foot of the bed. A fresh page is open between them, a lonely, roughly sharpened pencil lies on top.
“You're being serious.” Will deadpans.
“Of course I was,” Mike grins, annoyingly Will can't even think of getting mad at him for it.
“So, do I just-” Will reaches for the pencil and the sketchbook and rests it on his lap.
“Hold on-” Mike slides off the bed once again and goes to his closet, rummaging for something. And once he finds whatever he was looking for, he turns to Will, hiding the item behind his back.
“What are you doing?” Will quirks an eyebrow, intrigued.
Mike finally walks over, “No cheating,” he smiles before revealing a red blindfold.
“That's unnecessary,” Will feels himself flush.
“Oh but it is. It's not an exercise if you cheat through it. Then you won't learn anything.”
He's not… wrong. Maybe Will is a little gullible. Maybe.
Will sighs in defeat, which makes the smile on Mike's face grow wider. He brings the blindfold to Will's face and wraps over his eyes, tying it into a little bow at the back.
“I could have tied it myself, you know,” Will scowls, hoping it would hide the pink lingering on his face.
“Sorry, too late.”
“You're not sorry.”
“Oh really? What gave it away?” He can feel Mike grinning in faux-confusion.
With his vision hindered, Will feels more exposed. Mike's face is usually very expressive, very readable. So not knowing what the other boy is thinking right now makes him feel… insecure.
The mattress dips in front of him. Mike is sitting a lot closer than he had been before. So close that Will can almost feel his body heat radiating off him. But it makes sense right? Before, the book was between them, and now it's not. So it makes sense for Mike to move closer to him. Right?
“Ready?”
“This feels weird.”
“Relax. It's only me. And we can stop if you feel too weird about it. Okay?"
“Okay.” He trusts Mike with his life. So this shouldn't be too hard.
He thinks Mike is smiling. Honestly, he always is, when he's looking at Will.
“Okay.” Mike echoes.
Will feels Mike's hand against his, carefully cradling it and raising it to Mike's face.
When his fingertips make contact with Mike's skin, he realises how soft it actually is. Softer than he had imagined.
“You can start now.” Mike whispers. Will only hears it because of how close he was to him.
“Okay,” he breathes out, feeling heat creep up his neck and pool at his ears and cheeks
He can't believe he's actually doing this. Something so stupid. Something so intimate. If Will was being honest, he didn't need to touch Mike to draw him, he could already do that with his eyes closed. He'd tried to memorise every freckle on his face. The way his lashes curl ever so slightly, like he had got them done every morning.
He gently shifts his hand so that his palm rests flat on Mike's cheek. It's hollower than it had been when he was a kid. Mike had lost a lot of weight after hitting puberty. He feels heat bloom under his palm, but maybe it's just him being delusional.
He shifts it more, so that his thumb is gracing his jaw, feeling the edge of it. It moves to his cheek bones and then his temple. Will feels his other hand begin to sketch, like muscle memory.
He then realises they're doing the exercise completely wrong. He's not supposed to see his reference, but he should be able to look at his sketch. Mike can be stupid sometimes, but Will was dumb enough to blindly follow his lead. A giggle escapes his lips upon realisation.
“What's so funny?” Mike whispers almost.
“Nothing,” Will knows he should stop and correct themselves, to follow the exercise properly, but he decides to play along. To cheat anyways.
“Then why are you still smiling?”
“‘Cause this is stupid. It's gonna end up looking horrible.” He smiles.
“And? Nothing you draw is ever horrible. I bet you draw with your eyes closed all the time,” Will's hand still lingers on Mike's face. He can feel each muscle move as Mike talks.
“I wish I was that good.”
“You are that good.”
“Whatever.” He feels like he's blushed for the thousandth time today.
His fingers continue their journey. His thumb traces over Mike's eyes as they flutter shut, wispy lashes feather his skin.
Will has to be completely honest. He's only playing into whatever game Mike has made for them so that he can savour these touches. He's imagined it before. Touching Mike's face, running his thumb over his cheek. He knows he's going to replaying this moment a gazillion times in his head. But can you blame him? This might be the only chance he gets to be this close to Mike.
His fingers reach the bridge of Mike's nose. Going over the tiny bump there. It's beautiful. And it's his favourite feature to draw, when he can see his sketch. His other hand continues to sketch. For all he knows there's a mess of scribbles etched into the page.
But he doesn't care, because playing into Mike's game is fun. Accelerating almost. He can hear his heart beat grow faster. Maybe he's a creep. But it wasn't his idea to do this in the first place.
He hopes he's not a creep, honestly.
His thumb gently graces over Mike's upper lip. He hears Mike's breath hitch at the contact.
This feels so wrong.
His lips are slightly chapped. He runs his thumb along his cupid's bow. He wishes he could see it for himself up close. Mike's warmth breath on his thumb makes him flinch, goosebumps littering his skin as the hair on the back of his neck stands.
His thumb makes contact with Mike's bottom lip now. He feels across, not realising he's gently pressing his thumb into it. It only hits him when he hears a soft groan escape Mike's mouth.
Fuck.
He should have done that. That was weird. Why the hell did he do that?
Panic sets in as Will flinches his hand back, “I'm so sorry- that was- I shouldn't have done that.” A lump forms in his throat, as he feels his eyes burn with tears under the blindfold. He let himself get carried away, and now he's made it weird. Shame buries itself deep in Will's chest. Mike probably thinks he's a creep. He's probably ruined their friendship. How could he do such a thing? “This was a stupid idea- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-”
Will reaches up to pull off his blindfold when he feels Mike's hand gently around his wrist, tugging his hand away from himself, “No Will- I… it was okay… I li- I didn't mind it…” his voice is drenched in embarrassment. But he was being honest. He really didn't mind it.
Will lets his hand get tugs away, Mike guides it back onto his face. Will doesn't know what he's doing anymore. He's not in the right state of mind. He wasn't in the right state of mind when agreeing to this. He's never in the right state of mind around Mike.
He nibbles on his lip, contemplating what he should do. But Mike seems, oddly, eager to continue.
So he does.
After avoiding touching Mike's lips for a good 2 minutes, hes back there. His thumb brushes against his bottom lip. It's wetter now than it was before. He must have licked them.
He's going insane.
He can feel Mike's hot breath against him, as his thumb presses into his lip. Insanity has taken a hold of him now. His thumb presses harder against his lip, out of curiosity. He can hear Mike's breathing quicken each passing second.
He feels Mike lean into his touch, as Will tries to lean away. The sensible part of his brain tells him to stop. Stop this mess before it's too late. But it's too quiet for him to hear it. So he chooses not to.
The pencil in his other hand is long forgotten, probably rolling around somewhere on the surface of the sketch book.
Mike's jaw falls open. He feels the heat from Mike's mouth brush against his thumb. “Will…” It's hot and wet.
He should stop. He's crossed the line now.
He pulls his hand back again, creating distance between them. He shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have let his stupid love and yearning for Mike ruin him. “Shit,” He whispers, “I'm sorry-” He sure he's red as a tomato by now. “I-”
He can't say anything more when he feels Mike lean closer. The mattress around his dips down as he feels Mike's breath against his face. And before he can think and analyse what's happening around him, his hypothesis is confirmed.
He feels lips grace his, slightly chapped but soft. It's tentative and light. Gently pressing into him. He gasps into it, afraid that if he breathes too hard, it'll slip away.
Mike pulls back, “Will…” He feels him leaning again, his hand cup Will's face,
“Mike..” He rests a hand on Mike's chest, gently, but not really, pushing him away, “This is wrong… we shouldn't…”
“Do you want to stop?” It's quiet. His thumbs trace circles on Will's cheeks. His face casts a pleading expression Will almost misses. Like Mike's hoping he says no. That he doesn't want to stop.
Does he want to stop? In all honesty, this is wrong. And they should stop before anyone sees them. Before they make mistakes. Before there's a irreversible dent in their relationship. Logically, they should stop-
“No…” He timidly admits, feeling himself burning up as he mentally facepalms himself for being so direct.
“Then I don't see what's wrong.” Mike smiles, he knows. He just wishes he could see him.
Lips crash into him again. A loose mouthed kiss, this time it's still tender, but more passionate.
Mike leans forward, softly pushing Will against the bed frame. One hand rests at his jaw while the other cradles his head, so it doesn't hit anything hard. Mike's hovering over him now, he's sure of it. His hands find their way grasping at the edges of Mike's shirt.
It's not long before Mike's lips begin to move. His thumb digs at his jaw, guiding it open. Mike tilts his head slightly to get a better angle, deepening the kiss. Strategically sucking Wills upper lip, then lower lip. His tongue darts out once a while, tasting Will.
Will feels like he's in heaven, and he never thought he would. And he's never kissed anyone before. But it feels like his body already knows what to do. Like instinct. He tilts his head, trying to be as close to Mike as possible.
His insides are burning with desire. He wants more. He wants all that he can have. It's like he's going to implode if he doesnt get it.
Mike pulls away, breaking the kiss to have an opportunity to breathe, leaving Will's lips swollen and lonely. He is still close. Close enough that their noses bump. The hand cradling Will's head tugs at the blindfold until it comes loose and slides off of Will's face.
Their eyes meet. Mike's eyes are hooded over. Glistening with desire. Now that Will can actually see him, he realises how exposed he really is. He thinks he's turned a shade of burgundy now. There's no going back anymore. His eyes drift down to Mike's lips. They're swollen and wet too.
Will feels his body surge forward, capturing Mike's lips in a heated kiss. Mike lays him back down, a hand snakes to the bottom of Will’s shirt, slithering its way under it. He gasps into Mike's mouth as he feels his hands grip his waist, giving it a light squeeze.
Mike's teeth dig into Will’s lip, nipping at it hard enough to shoot sparks of pleasure through his body. He feels a tongue dart out, licking his bottom lip as if to ask for permission.
Mike's tongue slips into his mouth, exploring each corner and crevice. Poking and prodding at the inner lining of Will's mouth, leaving no sufrace untouched. He wants to memorise the way this feels. Memorise the way Mike's tongue investigates his mouth.
Will slings his arms around Mike's neck, pulling him flush against him. The tongues finally meet. They engage in a rhythmic tango, messily choreographed. Mike's leg inserts itself between Will’s, pressing upwards. Will moans in Mike's mouth which only makes him more certain with his movements.
Will feels heat pool inside him. Like he's going to explode into a thousand pieces of mush. His limbs are noodles, he can hardly feel them as his heart continues to beat louder in his ears. And he doesn't want to. All he can feel right now is Mike's hand under his shirt and Mike's tongue tangling with his. And all he wants to feel right now is just that, Mike.
He wants more. He needs more. He needs Mike to-
“Mike! Will's mom is on the phone! He needs to leave right now!” Karen's shouts echo through the house. Mike shouts back in acknowledgement before turning to Will.
“You…” he breathes out, creating a distance as he rolls off of Will, avoiding his gaze, “You should probably leave… your mom… she's…”
Tension grows in the air around them. It's… uncomfortable.
Will nods, “Yeah I should…” he hesitates for a moment before getting on his heel. Hands empty, he walks out of Mike's room, closing the door behind him.
He's ruined it. Everything. Ten years of friendship down the drain ‘cause he was too selfish. He saw it in the way Mike didn't bother to spare him a look after. Walks down the stairs, replaying everything in his head. It felt so good. But was it worth it?
He ruined it all just ‘cause he was too selfish. Mike probably hates him now. He thinks he's disgusting.
This shameful feeling lingers as he steps to the front door of the Wheeler house, shrugging on his jacket and bidding Mrs Wheeler goodbye. Looking up at the stairs, he realises Mike really hasn't come to walk him out.
That's all the confirmation he needs. He steps outside, closing the door behind him. He takes a step forward into the chill of the evening as tears burn his eyes.
He's about to leave when the front door behind him flies open. When he turns he sees Mike panting, his sketchbook in hand, leaning against the doorframe.
Right, he left it there. He is just here to give it back to him.
Mike steps outside, shutting the door behind him. Standing only a couple inches away, he hands him his sketchbook, “You, uh, left this… so.”
“Thanks” He holds the sketchbook against his chest, turning away to leave.
“Will… wait.” A hand on his shoulder stops him, Mike scratches the back of his neck as he continues, “I- uh…”
Wills turns to face him completely. Expecting the worst.
“What would you think- No. Hold on. Uhm-” Mike's awkwardness almost makes him laugh, but the pain in his heart won't let him, “I was just wondering… how would you feel about spending tomorrow at the arcade? J-just the two of us…”
Will's eyes widened at Mike's suggestion. His heart feels warm again, beating loud in his ears. He knows it is probably just a hangout, but he can't help but savor the warmth as his cheeks flush, “yeah… no yeah. Cool. I'm down…” His attempt at sounding casual fails miserably.
But he remembers, it's just a hangout. Cool. A hangout between friends. ‘Cause what else could it be? It's just a hang-
“Cool. So… it's a date.” Mike nips at his lips.
A date.
Their eyes meet. Will searches them for dishonesty, but there is none.
Will fights back a smile, “A d-date. Yeah.. cool.” He smiles anyways.
Mike steps forward, closing the gap between them, and presses a chaste kiss on Will's lips.
“I like you.”
There's a beat as silence falls between them. He has to say something. Anything.
“I think we kinda messed up the order of things.”
Not that.
“What's the right order?” Acting oblivious, Mike questions as his lips stretch across his face into a slanted smirk.
Will falls for it, “Well usually, it's I like you first, then date, then kiss. And we kinda did it the opposite way. Kiss, date then I like you. That's wrong and-” Will stops himself, biting down at his lips, when he realises he's going to be a rambling mess. It's not his fault, it's his nerves.
“Well,” A blatant grin dances on Mike's lips, “I like you.”
“Me too. I like you too.”
Will didn't get a wink of sleep that night. All he could think about was:
Mike's lips. Oh my god! A date. It's a date!! With Mike Wheeler! I'm going to embarrass myself. His lips felt so good. I'm going to die. I need him. What if he doesn't like me like that- no we kissed. Oh my god we kissed! No, we made out. A proper make out session! Who am I!? I can't face him tomorrow. Argh, I'm doomed. But it's a date. A fucking date!?!? I can't do this-