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A brush stroke, and another. Quick and sharp, followed by another one, longer this time. Two more ups and downs before he wipes his brush on the sleeve of his shirt. God what a mess.
Will has been working on this project for a while, it’s for his abstract class tomorrow. He started last week but still has a long way to go. The sun already setting, creates soft strikes of yellow and orange across his canvas causing the bubbling shadows of leaves to wiggle, as if they wished to contribute to his work. Will steps back from the painting. Why did he choose to use so much blue? It’s almost like water. Looks a lot like Lovers lake…
It’s been awesome. Having his own life, far away from that small town in Indiana. It’s been something he imagined way before graduation. Still, as his eyes sweep across the canvas something in him flickers, an awfully bright realization that nothing would be the same as when they were kids. The dirt roads, the AV club in school, his friend’s basement: a place for fun, adventures, friends.. best friends.
Of course
He remembers everything. Too much and too intense. He knows he will never truly be over him, if he blinks too fast images of certain eyes and a sharp faced black haired boy flood his mind- just brief flashes, not long and not too loud but.. when was lightning not dangerous?
At least they are still friends, always a phone call away. And the others too, they’re not really even that far of a car ride away. Lucas also came to New York, and visiting Dustin doesn’t require a plane ride either, only Max and Jane are harder to see frequently, studying in California.
He smiles, kinda awkward. Do any of them even know he remembers so fondly? Becomes so so happy when he thinks of them, their summers, winter and spring breaks, holiday get-togethers? Do they know its only because of the love they give him that he is able to keep going? That he was able to be brave? Does Mike even know about anything?
He lowers his hand, paint brush hanging limply. Canvas still half empty and blue… so so blue. At least twenty different shades. Where are his other colors?
„There is no way I’m finishing this in time” he mutters to himself, curtains swaying slightly in the April dusk.
Will almost misses hearing the phone ring but it shatters the quiet. He quickly runs to the bathroom finding a rag he uses to wipe his hands, but there’s no time to wash them so he just clumsily grabs the receiver, whispered curses leaving his mouth when he almost drops it. Lifts it to his ear stuttering a quick „Hello”. He waits for an answer back.
„Will, Hi! Its M-”
„Mike!” Will speaks almost too quick, definitely too eager (some things never change).
„Hello! Long time no see. I mean not ‘see’ since its just a phone call but- oh and I-i I mean we went for coffee on Monday but I- I just- shit I mean... I just meant I haven’t seen you or rather haven’t been seeing you as much as I used to.” Mike says, sounding all too nervous, something that’s been pretty consistently happening each time they interacted since graduation.
Wheeler doesn’t seem to have the same skills for holding a conversation as he does for writing them.
„It’s ok I feel you. I miss when we saw each other everyday”. Will doesn’t think about sounding needy, he doesn’t really care either.
„Okay, Soooooo... I had a talk with Gavin and turns out, tonight is open-door-party-night at my dorm, which I don’t want to indulge in. Hence why I’m calling- I was hoping since your roommate left early for break I could … maybe stay the night? I just really don’t want to be near when 15 people come in my shared, cramped, seriously small bedroom and down beer all night”. Comes the rambling complaint from Mike, the other boy listening couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Mike Wheeler never changes.
„Hey I think it would do you some good to socialize a bit” Will challenges „You haven’t told me about any new friends you’ve made since starting school”. He loved to tease Mike like this, made his smile grew bigger, made the conversation feel electric. Will had not fully realized yet what Mike was asking for, he just honestly, whole heartedly wanted their talk to stretch on, to reach further, to hear Mike's extended babbling for just a second longer.
„Come on Will, you know I hate everyone except you guys. The idea of having to talk about school with other student when that is the only common thing we share- it is ridiculous, and tiring. Please save me! You have to save me pleaseeee-„ okay now Mike was whining. And that’s Dangerous.
„Jesus Mike okay, okay” Will looks at his other hand: blue shades of oil paint far from drying stain his fingers as he rubs the tips of them together. He gets so fidgety when it comes to Mike. Still so nervous.
I guess Will Byers never changes either
„Come over anytime, you know the building, just bring food, please?” Will pauses „And not like last time. I do not want pineapple on my pizza”. He finishes speaking, smile growing even wider at the response he anticipates will come.
„Dude you didn’t even try it! But alas, sorcerer I shall abide by your wishes as a loyal paladin” Wheeler answers, any sign of his earlier nervousness switched with the usual flirty- Wait that’s not right. He can’t be?
„You are dumber than I remembered”. Will replies half laughing, the words moving faster than his thoughts, not a usual phenomena.
„I am, but you seem to love it. Be there in a flash”. Mike states.
„And no pineapple„ Will remarks.
„No fruit at all” is the other boy's closing line.
Will seriously doesn’t get it. He let Mike go, or at least he tries to, since he came out to his friends and family. Still, something just wasn’t right even before that.
When Mike confessed to everyone about him and Jane being broken up, he finally let himself be more observant. It’s almost like the black haired boy was trying to flirt with him since they had that awkward talk in the upside down. Right.. what the hell was that about?
Slowly and with lingering regret, he lowers the phone’s receiver. Yellow plastic now marked a hundred shades of blue.
What am I doing?
The curtains still sway left to right- back and forth, their playful fluttering almost causes the paint covered artist to fall deep into his thoughts again but stops himself.
„Damn… the assignment”
Will gets back to his art, getting the rest of the oil paints from his desk drawer, the mess created in the dorm almost starting to take over his absent roommate’s side of the space. Things he will deal with tomorrow.
No more blue.
Three hours go by, Will’s thoughts: a mixture of words he remembers from abstract class and sentences he heard Mike speak. Brows furrowed together, he keeps reaching for some variant of blue but stops himself rapidly. Nothing can explain the way Mike has been acting lately. It’s their first year of college so sure, he may behave out of character -homesickness manifesting- but in these last few months, they hung out together basically every week.
And if Mike was in fact flirting, he was not subtle about it.
Will rocks his brush back and forth diagonally across the painting, a huge yellow streak forming in the middle of an unforgiving backdrop of dark rivers, night skies and midnight forests. When did he first notice it?
Maybe October, halloween party.
He was invited to Mike’s college dorm along with the rest of the party. With all his friends there, ecstatic, finally catching up and getting to know how everyone has been settling in at school.
That was the night Mike touched him like he doesn’t touch his other friends.
„It’s cold” Their breaths forming a clouds as they exhaled into the cold October night
„Your face still gets red from it? " He looks the same as when he was 8.- Will thinks
Cute-
"Mike, go back in, you'll get sick". Byers interrupts his overwhelming mind. Before it gets even more insufferable.
He let his eyes linger on his friend for longer than he originally meant to.
Dark locks of hair curling near Mikes' ears and neck. His hair always grew back unbelievably fast. Dots of light freckles scattered from cheeks to nose, not as visible as in the summer. Still looking just too good not to draw, to not get inspired by. Maybe Will did draw him for his profile study homework due the 3rd of November, but who really knows.
Then Mike grabbed Wills' hands, seemingly a swift decision he was alarmingly confident at making as he lifted them up to his face, smile becoming more apparent, eyelids closing.
Hands, freshly out of Will's coat pockets went stiff upon contact, hot fingers now pressed firmly to Mike’s freezing cheeks.
„And your hands are warm... like they always were." Said Mike, voice hushed.
He was crazy. The alcohol- although neither of them drank - must have gotten to him. But Will let himself be held and didn’t pull back as he dotted his eyes along his friend’s features. They didn’t talk about it, what was there to say really? The way Mike’s fingers slid between his as he pressed their hands together? Instead they went for a movie the next day.
There was also that time, Christmas, back home when Mike suddenly radioed him on the evening of the 26th.
„Will, do you copy?” the static voice cut through the stillness of his room in the cabin, making him jump out of bed and lower the volume of his walkie.
„Yea it’s me, what do you want, Mike” Will managed to get out, his pissed tone trying not to dominate his voice but he was just about to fall asleep. Looks at his watch: 11 pm.
„Meet me at the corner of Cherry and Mulberry in 30 minutes.” the static came back as the dark haired boy on the other side presumably lifted his finger off the button.
Will sneaked out the cabin's window, hesitantly jumping on his bike, after he put on an extra layer of clothing on top of his pajamas -because, he’s not that crazy.
He raced to the mentioned meeting place, well... because: What if something happened?
He didn’t even ask, his friend sounded haste, weird, like he has potentially practiced multiple ways of getting the message to just Will (channel 3 was only theirs after all) and decided on this tone, this arrangement of words. This was weird.
As he arrived, the other boy was already there, waiting, shivering in only his pajamas and the sweater he presumably got as a present just yesterday. stupid
„Im sorry- my mom told me you were leaving tomorrow and- I wanted to give you this” Said Mike, while stepping closer to Will, who finally noticed the binder the boy was squishing together under his crossed arms, holding onto it as if the black casing would slip away when not held in a sturdy grasp, when not held dearly enough.
Will took the binder, finding it to be… full of letters all signed ‘Mike’ at the bottom.
As Will started to read the first one, his friend was already jumping back on his bicycle and starting to speed away back towards the opposite end of town.
„Merry Christmas” Mike shouted, pedaling heavily, standing tall on the bike to accelerate his speed.
The other boy couldn’t even get out anything he may have considered as a fitting response as Mike was already heading further down the empty road, deeper into the cold night. Great.
What was this all about? Will went home-arriving sooner than humanly possible- and he read the first letter.
And then he read the second letter, and then the third one. And another letter, and another one. Until it was dawn and even though the sun reached his tired eyes behind the curtains of his lashes, He couldn’t stop reading the last one over and over.
The one that had ‘Love, Mike’ written at the bottom, crossed over a hundred times.
But Mike can’t fool an artist, he deciphered it with ease. Will abruptly shoved the binder under his bed and never spoke about it.
So Mike did write him letters when he was in Lenora…
The third time he recognized something was off- is now striking his overflowing thoughts, gaining authority over his headspace. The third thing.
Will jabs his brush into more yellow pigments -gold this time- slushing his brush around in the oils. The hues on his canvas striking opposites, his movements jittery and static, drawing circles, triangles, hexagons- anything that makes him feel like he is riding this hope out of himself.
Hope was dangerous.
Specks of the paint get all over his cheeks he pokes so forcefully, hand coming up to swiftly scratch the space between his eyebrows (his glabella).
That night a month ago.
Mike invited him over for what seemed like a usual weekly hangout. But that was the day Mike kept constantly bumping into him, his eyes loitering on Will after every joke, every chuckle, each time the look they shared extended out more and more driving Will crazy. That couldn't be a coincidence.
So when they finally decided to say their goodnights, Will felt like he lost control over himself, over the wall of lies he had built up in front of his feelings. It made things hurt less intensely sometimes.
He felt his grasp loosening on his words, the sentence slipping from his mouth so quick he got startled by the sheer force of it.
„El didn’t commission that painting” Will's shoulders became tense at once under the vibration of his own voice, starting to regret this truth he revealed on a whim, but Mike spoke almost in the same beat as him.
„I know”- was his easy answer.
It was the only answer he got as he shared one last, lengthy look with Mike, face beaming as he started to walk away.
So he knew. Since when? How? What did this mean for them?-
Suddenly, a knock on the door he knows he should have expected shook him out of this trancelike state. The room now darker, last bits of the late sunlight oozing in. Window still open, but curtains hanging without their usual dance. Will looks down at himself: clothes covered in smears of paint, hands sticky and wet, blotches of the used materials cloaking him from forearms to fingertips.
„Ugh” he really was messier since he moved away from home.
Still, he grabs the same rag as earlier and runs to the door quickly, opening it to reveal his friend with three boxes of pizza towering in his grasp.
„Hi” Mike manages to get out, almost dropping the food as he takes in the sight of Will. „Woah, are you ok? Did I interrupt something?”
„Its Nothing, just this painting I’m working on. It’s due tomorrow” Will says flatly, trying not to sound happy- a poor attempt at not revealing how glad he is that Mike is here, that he’s staying here.
„Well don’t let me stop you, just gonna uhm- yeah just putting these down and I'll be out of your way” Mike’s eyes dart from Wills desk to his painting then the open window, and in between all of these, back to Will, each. and. every. time.
Will closes the door moving back to the tall easel standing near the window, large tarp for protection laid out on the wall behind it and the surrounding carpet. Mike has placed the boxes on the table, leaning back on it as he scans Will and his art, positively mesmerized, he says: „When did you start? It’s not like your last assignment at all, its so… free”
The artist turns around, his face unsurprisingly has many strokes of yellow smeared across it, but he doesn’t now. Doesn’t realize that’s why Mike seems to be eyeing him so intensely. More passionately than he does the painting.
„Thanks. I mean, yeah it’s for my abstract art class. You know- basically just something to represent a feeling that you want to give across to the viewer, but sticking to only the very basic forms of expressions- so no complex use of, well… anything- and honestly, its really liberating. I just don’t know what exactly I’ve made”. Will laughs at himself, he really is just confused, maybe that’s what he should call it, ‘confused…’
„Well it looks done! You should liberate your art style more” The smile Mike flashes Will as he talks feels like the moon shining brightly through clouds, and he is just not ready for that comparison. Will really doesn’t want to use his brain right now.
„How would you even know how close it is to being finished?" the shorter boy replies "I still need at least one more color, it’s too blue.”
„I like blue” Mike asserts. Practically offended, he is instantly stepping closer to Will and smirking down on him as he reaches his side. „You’re so messy, almost like a part of the canvas. Did your professor allow organic materials to be used? ”The boy teases.
Will looks up at mike, that fucking smirk.
„Guess what, I don’t recommend you taking that tone with me in my artistic space. I’m more in control here than you’d think.”
Will carefully reaches for his palette next to him, now mostly tainted the color of the sun with some dark blue shades left on one edge. Holding Mikes' gaze, he inches it closer into his grasp. He can play dirty if he wants to, with the friend he adores so much, too much.
Being this close to him after the past months, he doesn’t care anymore. He plays into it. Whatever that may mean.
„Well at least I’m clean, looks like by the time you wash up, I’m gonna be done with the pizzas” Mike remarks, looking even deeper into Wills' eyes, smearing the paint the boy has on his nose with his index finger, mischievous creases near his eyes form, and Will decides he's had it.
He swiftly palms into the light oils with a solid motion and swipes his hands across Mike’s cheeks.
The other boy doesn’t have enough time to react-or his brain is working slower than normal-as he only gets to step back an inch before Will’s fingers collide with his face. He gasps audibly.
„WILL” Mike shouts, face now smeared in gold and amber- specific names he probably doesn’t know but Will does- and he’s laughing.
„You better start running” Wills eyes go wide at that. Mike lunges for his palette and the paints squirted on top, palms into a collection of blues and spreads the substance easily across his hands while he sends a very concerning, devious smile in the other boys way.
„I warned you” Will says, beginning to back up, smile so wide he’s starting to giggle, a low hum of fear escaping his throat at the same time.
„Mike I warned you, you didn’t listen, We’re even!” He says while trying to create distance between themselves in the small area.
„Oh We are far from even, look! You even got it on my shirt! Byers, you are dead!” Mike holds his hands up in front of him rapidly heading towards Will, while the other boy half screaming, half laughing, starts running towards the other corner. Running as in- hopping on his bed and hoping Mike stops his menacing walk-over.
„No! No! I’m already covered” Will tries to squish himself as close to the wall as possible, probably leaving specks of paint along the way.
„Save me the hassle and give up” Mike says, voice low, as he abruptly jumps on the bed and grabs Will by his wrist pulling him off and clumsily stumbling to the ground, almost falling over. The action leads to Will grabbing Mike’s exposed arms and hands coating them in prints of more yellowish paint.
The colors start to blend together- green.
„Oh my god you are out of your mind!” Will screams, but the way his face hurts from how happy he is cannot be concealed by his scolding words.
As he gains his footing back, and looks up at Mike, the other is staring at him wide eyed- something is wrong. He's not smiling, his mouth slightly agape, eyes dark, yellowish blue-green marks now covering multiple parts of his body and clothes while his blue hands are all over him. One on his waist, another on his wrist, holding him close enough to be- too close.
Upon comprehending this, Will feels like he could faint in an instant.
„You are pretty like this” Mike states as a matter of fact, eyes hazy, dark hair messy and hands tight around Will. Eyes moving rapidly, fixating on his eyes, his cheeks, nose, eyebrows, lips. Then they stay there.
The other boy cannot utter anything back, there is not really a rational answer he could muster up. Not a single word forming in his mind. Some things truly never change.
He catches himself moving forward quicker than he feels Mike do.
For someone who never knew what kissing felt like- what a great, what a long awaited one, a kiss you yearned for- felt like, this was incomprehensible.
The way his stomach flipped, like when he went down too fast on that hill near his old house. The way his skin felt all fuzzy, as if he was made of TV static, invisible lines blurring the edges of his frame.
As he finally allowed himself to relax into it, Mike pulled back.
Still looking down at him, eyes not moving away from Will- just heavy, lidded and even darker -If that’s somehow possible, he asked-
„Is this okay? A-are you okay?” jet-black orbs moving up from Will’s mouth as their gazes lock.
„Mike-„ Will smiles. He tries to say: Yes. Yes please. This is all I’ve ever wanted, please. Don’t stop! Don’t stop now!
But he instead skips the unimportant chatter. Right now is not the time he wants their talk to last longer, in this moment, he demands to be kissed again and again. And he wants to kiss Mike again and again. So he does.
Will starts sliding his hands up to cup the boy’s face, maneuvering one hand to rest on the back of his neck.
They clash together, not much like they blended into each other the first time. This was more like jabbing a brush onto a palette and hoping for a mixture of your two colors.
And it worked.
Mike immediately grabbed onto the side of the other boys face, pulling him even closer.
Will couldn’t believe how soft his lips felt, how smoothly they moved together with his own, or -how sharp Mike’s teeth were biting down on them.
He gasped, unknowingly letting the taller boy deepen the kiss, tongue sliding across his bottom lip, moving along his teeth, into his mouth, meeting his own. Mike hummed, a satisfied sound making Will’s stomach jump and flip over again.
Will didn’t want to mindlessly guess but his legs would not hold him for that much longer. He grabs onto Mike harder, into his hair, all over his jawline. Mike’s hands started to roam all over his body- his sides, his back, his waist now all so- so blue. The moving hands of his… friend? made him gasp, and sigh over and over, it just felt that good… what is this boy doing to him?
„Mike wait- I can’t-„ he doesn’t even get the chance to take a breath as Mike is already back to smashing his lips to Wills. But a sudden jolt escapes him, finally backing up when he feels Will slightly tremble under his grasp.
„Sorry- Will Im so sorry, I- did I hurt you? Are you okay...Are you okay?” Then Mike notices.
Their breathing is rapid- Mike has to pause after every other word. Putting their temples together as he holds the other boy firmly, looking- searching all over his face for signs. Will knows Mike can read him. He always could.
So Wheeler gets the memo, and moves Will towards the wall, in this tiny space nothing is too far away at least.
He lets Will lean his back against it while placing one knee in between his parted legs. They are flush together, inhaling rapidly. Will just mumbles a 'thanks' and is already pulling the other in by his shirt collar.
„Seriously, this was one of my nicer shirts” Mike grunts.
"Oh, so you wanted to look good for me?" Will says, loving that he knows just how to push Mike's buttons.
"No-n- I mean I guess, yeah but i always dress nice for you so don't try to insinuate that I-I mean I didn't like... wore a suit and tie so i don't get it why it's such a-"
„I'll tear it if you don’t shut up ” Will grits through his teeth and with a new found confidence he flips the two of them over so now the taller boy is flush up against the wall.
But before he can reveal his satisfied smile, Mike is begins to pull on him already, grabbing clumsily at whatever he can reach. Hands skimming, slithering up and down Will's sides to his hair, along his jaw and tilting his head.
This was heaven for them, and Will finally understood he was not alone.
As Will caressed along the sides of the other boy, hands running up all the way to his arms, then back down to his lower back, he also kept pulling: closer and stronger.
The noises Mike was making hit him in the guts harder each time he heard them. He was not letting the boy go easy, thats for sure. But needing to catch their breath is not really a thing that could go unaddressed for too long.
„Woah, you… how are you so good at this?” Mike speaks first, inhaling in-between words. Orbs jumping from Wills' lips, up to meet his gaze, then back down every millisecond.
„What, you think I haven’t kissed anyone since high school?” Will teases, observing the mess he created: Mike in front of him, knees buckled, figure slumped backwards- signs that any strength and confidence he had left his body a while ago.
But Mike seemed to perk up at what Will just said, a different tone in his voice emerging.
„What. Who was it? Will seriously, who was it? When? Tell me?” Mike gushes, smile fading, jealousy spreading fast like wildfire. It makes Will grin even more.
Oh he loves this game.
„None of your business, Wheeler” he manages to spit out before feeling the two familiar slender hands cup his face and pull him back down for another kiss. He cannot get enough of this boy.
Fingers find their place back along Mikes' cheeks, holding him pulling him in and pushing in further towards the wall.
A sudden cold hit his sides, clammy feeling up his back, Mike started lifting up his shirt, gaining access to his skin in the process. Will cannot wait to return the favor.
Will lifts his hands while Mike removes the clothing item, tossing somewhere, as Will focuses his attention back on Mike. Lifting his messed up top over the boys head also, and flinging it over his shoulder in a brisk move. They observe each other for a minute, hands never leaving the other's body. Prints forming all over their torsos, faces, necks, collar bones, stomachs, lower backs and waists.
Will feels good about that. Feels like they can never be washed off.
Not leaving any second for useless words to be spoken, they go clashing against each other. Only this time Will, drags his mouth down Mike’s cheeks, jaw and neck, leaving kisses, and gently sucking on spots along the way that get covered up in paint as his sweeping hands come following down making a visible yellow trail.
„Will-„ Mike moans his name.
Holy shit.
Will never imagined it would be like this, he never really imagined anything going this far- only a few times when he couldn’t control his dreams- so he yanks up his head too fast.
Will didn’t remember being this close to his easel- and his side table- only realizing the proximity when they end up knocking it over.
Mike loses balance at the sudden movement, pulling Will and knocking the painting down in the process onto the tarp below. Now both fully green- Mike more chartreuse, Will more teal but both of them equally hidden under an array of colors. The artwork stumbles on top of them, the mess becoming overwhelming.
„Shit, sorry I-I uh tripped” Mike says, eyes still locked firmly on the boy now on top of him, one hand lifting the smudged painting off of them. Will can only half hear him as blood starts rushing to too many parts of his body way too fast.
He is holding himself up with his arms, legs tangled together with Mike’s- an awfully confusing arrangement of limbs that he probably couldn’t sketch even if he were to take a picture right now.
Byers just smiles, again- or more like still. Smiling so bright he feels himself glowing slightly, the boy under him bearing a matching expression.
They are so dumb.
„Let’s clean up and eat” he says firmly, lifting himself off of Mike and lowering a hand down for him to grab onto, slowly rising up together.
Mike suddenly lunges at Will, burying himself into his neck.
„I-i never knew- I never know what I want. Im still afraid-I don’t fully- I don’t yet fully get what this means but, let me try. Please”. The taller boy mutters into his skin.
Will rarely heard Mike speak this quiet, this honest. He may only start to realize it now how deep he also buried his own feelings. And with them, himself.
Will lifts his arms, hugging Mike back, a strong sense of deja vu spilling over him at the embrace.
„I know what I want Mike” he speaks into his hair. „We’ll figure this out together”.
The dark fluff of curly locks rises up, the familiar eyes scan him over again.
Will acutely becomes very aware of them not having shirts on.
"I think Its safe to say I’m finished with this assignment” Will grabs the sides of his work lifting it up while Mike steadies the easel. Canvas currently blue near the edges, with prominent yellow swatches glowing in the center followed by the burst of all the other colors Will used- tried to use- smudged by handprints and god knows what else, because the locks on Mike’s head are littered with pigments.
„I love it. It’s like, pfftt- everything that happened, uhm.. just now.” Mike is dumb, and Will does love it.
„I hope you get to keep it, I have an empty space next to another one from the great Will Byers” he continues, rambling „I think it needs company. Also, it won’t believe the story this one has to tell.” He ends with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows, to which Will just rolls his eyes.
Mike's mood changed way too fast, but then it gets switched again.
„So who was it Will?” He begins but the other boy is already heading off to the bathroom, shutting the door.
„Im not telling!” Will shouts, small giggles escaping his mouth as he holds the door closed „You wouldn’t handle it well”.
„Please tell me it’s wasn’t Richie” Mike pleads, eyes going wide, hands coming up to start forcing the wooden door open. „Oh I’m going to kill that son of a bitch”
Will doesn't respond, but lets Mike in, sounding a squeal when the other boy grabs his waist and shoves him further inside. As they slowly start washing off the paint it clings to their skin less and less.
It will be a long night. A long night with talks, fruitless pizza, shared bed and blankets, quiet truths and secrets flooding the room then scurrying out the open window.
And when Will wakes up the next day, he maybe titles the painting something cheesy, or maybe more cryptic, something that’s also abstract and makes Mike laugh.
But as he will attend his class at noon, it won't come as a surprise when the girl next to him asks how the blue stains all over the back of his neck came to be.