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“Hey, Will! C’mon buddy, time to wake up and get going, okay? We’re all done here, it’s all done.”
The warbled voices began to separate from one another, like oil from water. Groaning, he blinked his eyes like a frog, one and then the other, the harsh operatory light greeting him with a menacing glow. Slowly, the blobs of color before him began to sharpen into focus, taking the form of two random people he had seen briefly before, and his mom, studying him with intensity.
“Welcome back, sleepyhead,” Joyce whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “how’re you feeling?”
“Mom,” he tried to say, but the sound that came out was a strangled grunt. Huh. Usually he has no problem speaking, but something was in his way. Gauze. Bloody gauze, specifically, was in his way. He gingerly reached a hand up to touch his cheeks, brushing against the damp dressing that was dangling between his lips. Huh. That wasn’t there before.
He tried blinking his eyes again, wondering briefly if it was all a bad dream. He scanned the room for a sign of something familiar, his eyes resting once again on his mom, whose hand was still gripping his free one.
“Hi, sweetie,” she cooed, pressing a quick kiss to the back of his hand, “you just had your wisdom teeth out,” she reminded, stifling back a chuckle, “remember?”
Will did not remember, but to be fair, he felt like he could barely even remember his own name right now. Muscle memory was the only thing tying him to his own self, he supposed. He blinked, hard, and the room seemed to sharpen dramatically. The heavenly light above him (more like hellish, why was it so bright?) had been swiveled off to the side, spotlighting the tray that was littered with empty anesthesia carpules, discarded cotton rolls, and the remnants of the resorbable sutures. On the counter behind him rested a flimsy plastic box in the shape of a tooth.
“Do you want to take them home?” An assistant appeared at Will’s side, shaking the box in her hand.
Will’s eyes narrowed, attempting to piece together why the hell this stranger was shaking what looked like a rattle in his face. He wasn’t a baby!
“What,” he mumbled, bringing his hand up to tug on the gauze in his mouth.
“Oh, nope, leave that in there,” someone else chimed in. It was the dentist, Will would later be told. She washed her hands fervently in the sink, wringing them out and drying them on a new piece of paper towel. Coming around to the side of his chair, she wrapped an ice pack around his face, the cold seeping into his skin.
“Everything went great, I don’t anticipate anything going wrong,” she explained, scribbling away on the scrap of paper that rested against her clipboard, “just as long as he doesn’t smoke, no use of a straw, and no spitting hard in the sink. Soft foods only, at least for the first week or so.”
Joyce nodded on Will’s behalf. “Don’t worry, we learned the lesson about smoking with Jonathan,” she muttered, tossing her hair over her shoulders at the memory, “I’ll keep an eye on him, I already mentioned to Karen that I’d be making a metric ton of mashed potatoes for the next week or so.”
Karen. Why did that name sound so familiar? Will thought on it for a moment, before a sliver of sobriety lapped at the edges of his mind. Karen Wheeler. Mike’s mom. Mike.
“Mike, where’s Mike,” he slurred, tugging lightly on his mom’s sweater. His head slumped to the side, the chill from the ice pack cushioned between his cheek and shoulder.
“He’s waiting for you at home,” Joyce replied, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, “we can go see him once you’re ready to go.”
“Oh I’m ready to go,” Will huffed, pressing his feet into the floor and attempting to steady himself, failing miserably. Joyce gripped onto his arm, the assistant flanking his other side and putting her arm around him.
“Take it easy there, my friend,” the assistant warned softly, beckoning one of the hygienists to push the wheelchair into the operatory, “you’re getting a chariot out of here.”
Will’s eyes widened, jaw going slightly slack enough for one of the pieces of gauze to tumble out onto the floor. It looked weird, Will decided, and…wait, was it red? Was that blood?
“Am I bleeding?” Will’s tongue sloppily dragged over where he could feel the edges of the stitches from the one site sans gauze. A metallic taste washed over his tongue and Will wrinkled his nose at the sensation.
“You need to keep the gauze in your mouth,” Joyce sighed, pulling out an extra piece from Will’s goody bag and putting it in his mouth as best she could, “bite down.”
Will obliged, letting himself be hoisted by the assistants and his mom into the wheelchair. The posters on the wall spun as he moved. He was dizzy and completely disoriented. All he could focus on was that Mike was at home. Mike! His Mike!
“Can we leave, I wanna see Mike,” he pleaded, crossing his arms across his chest clumsily, fingers remembering that they were able to move.
Joyce laughed into her shoulder as she helped push the chair towards the exit. “Don’t worry, he wants to see you too, we’ll be there in no time!”
Will giggled, although he didn’t really know what was so funny. Everything seemed to be hilarious, now that he thought about it. Fortunately, it did feel like he was in a chariot right now, being whisked away like royalty.
“Mike is, soooo,” he slurred, before dissolving into yet another fit of giggles, placing his hands on what he thought was his face, but was actually the velcro ice pack, inhaling sharply, “cold!”
Joyce tutted, fumbling to get her car key out of her purse. “Mike is cold?”
Will whined in response, kicking his legs off from the rests on the wheelchair and dragging them against the welcome mat as Joyce pushed him out towards the parking lot.
“He is not cold, mom! He is warm like,” he paused, waiting for inspiration to strike, which it fortunately did the second the chair hit the sidewalk, “like the sun!”
Joyce gave his shoulder a pat, sighing quietly. “That’s nice, honey,” she responded, flinging open the door and turning back towards her son, “d’you think you can get into the car with just me, or should I go grab one of the assistants?”
Will shook his head, albeit a bit too hard. “No,” he said defiantly, “I can do it, I’m, I’m strong, mom,” he huffed. He lifted his arms to grip Joyce’s shoulders tightly, steadying himself. She curled her arms around his waist in return, tugging him towards her and bringing him to standing. Will swayed like a drunken plant in the wind, eyes squinting as the clouds above drifted away from the sun.
Through a lot of effort (Will was apparently wildly high maintenance under the influence of whatever drugs they gave him), Joyce managed to get Will in the car. It was a struggle to get him buckled up, with Will complaining that he was ‘being suffocated’ and ‘sorcerers don’t wear seatbelts, duh’. As soon as they pulled out on the road, the hum of the car engine combined with the smooth-ish road lulled Will into a daze, eyes lidding.
Joyce peered at him through the rearview mirror, watching his head bob from side to side with each turn. At one point, she thought he had woken up from his half-hearted nap, mumbling something that sounded awfully like ‘I need my Mike’, but he just let out a content breath, a sleepy smile tugging his chapped, albeit slightly bloody, lips.
When Will stirred again, he was somewhere else. How he had managed to be transported, he didn’t know. Hell, he could hardly remember the first half of the day when he wasn’t under the influence.
The first thing he noticed was that the cold pack around his face was gone, cheeks now hot and tender to the touch. He groaned, leaning his head back and hitting something hard. Ouch.
“That’s not nice,” Will muttered under his breath, eyes adjusting to his surroundings and oh. Oh. He was no longer in the wheelchair or in his car. He was in a bedroom. Mike’s bedroom. It looked cleaner than the last time he’d been in here, although, at this moment in time, Will couldn’t pinpoint when that was.
It was cozy, he’d give it that, being tucked under a navy blanket and surrounded by what felt like thousands of pillows. He dragged his fingers along his jawline, wincing ever so slightly. The drugs were still working, yes, but some soreness had started to kick in. His face was either numb or swollen or both. Probably both.
Looking around, despite floating in his delirious haze, Will was able to deduce that something critical was missing from the room.
Mike.
Will stuck his lower lip out and pouted, tears starting to burn at the corners of his eyes. He decided to blame it on the discomfort from the extractions and not the ache in his heart he felt from a lack of a certain Wheeler.
“Mike? Miiiiike,” he called into the void, “Miiiiike, where are you?” The house creaked in response, icy wind howling at the window as if it were laughing at Will. He sighed, frustrated. Maybe he was out with the Party, or helping his mom do something, or maybe he was trying to win El back or-
His stomach churned, swallowing hard. Mike and El had been broken up for a little while now, weeks? Months? Will couldn’t remember, and he quite frankly didn’t want to. Technically, nothing had changed. Everyone still hung out and there wasn’t any awkward tension.
Okay, well, that was a lie. The tension that Will felt when he was alone with Mike seemed to always be there, like a rubber band waiting to snap. He worried it might never go away, but that was a thought far too complex for Inebriated Will to consider right now. All that Will wanted right now was-
“Will?”
Like his wish from a genie came to life, Mike poked his head in the door of his room, black curls brushing against the frame. Will sighed joyously, allowing his body to sink back into the cushions that surrounded him.
“Mikey,” Will drawled, digging his arms out from under the blanket and grabbing at the air like a toddler begging for a snack.
Mike shut the door behind him with a soft click. “Hey there, you’re awake,” he said, coming to take a seat at the foot of the bed, “how’re you feeling?”
Will’s eyes fluttered shut, giggling to himself. Mike was here, like, actually here! Which would have been more surprising if Will wasn’t literally in his room.
“Mmmph, okaaaaay,” he mumbled, tongue sliding around in his mouth, feeling foreign, “they took my teeth, all of them!”
Mike chortled, drawing up one knee and resting his chin on it. “All of your teeth, huh? That’s a real shame, how are you gonna have dinner?”
Will’s eyes bugged out of his head. Mike was right, how was he gonna have dinner?! How could he have let his mom do this?
“Do you think that I’ll ever have a milkshake again?” Completely seriously he was asking. His doe eyes met Mike’s but Mike didn’t seem to share his same sense of panic. In fact, Mike was laughing. And Will couldn’t believe it.
“You’re laughing at me? Mike, this isn’t funny, we need to focus,” he lamented, stretching his arms out towards Mike and grazing the fabric of his jeans, “you have to help me!”
Much to Will’s dismay, Mike only laughed harder. He felt the bed dip and squirm underneath him as Mike scooted closer, gaze sweeping over Will in a way that made his stomach twist with something he couldn’t quite place. He tipped his head down, voice low and mischievous.
“Can you keep a secret?”
No, Will thought, particularly not in the state he was in. The medications seemed to bathe the gears in his brain, loosening them up and letting his imagination start to jog slowly. He nodded intently, sitting up slightly and woah he should have sat up slower. The walls of the room seemed to slosh around him.
“Easy there,” Mike cautioned, putting a hand on Will’s shoulder to help steady him, “you’re still recovering.”
Will just made a hmph sound in response, tilting his head to lean against Mike’s hand on his shoulder, groaning regretfully. Right, still sore and recovering. Right.
“I wanna hear the secret, Mike,” he begged, swatting at Mike’s knee haphazardly, “pleeeease?”
“Okay, okay,” Mike conceded, scooting closer to him and leaning in closer and closer and oh. Will wondered if genies were actually real, because the situation unfolding before him felt like one straight out of his dreams. A brief flash of self-consciousness and guilt washed over his chest; Mike was leaning in to kiss him and his lips were probably still bloody from earlier.
Before Will could do or say anything else stupid, Mike’s head swerved to the right, warm breath tickling the skin by his ear. He shuddered, eyes closing involuntarily.
“You didn’t actually lose all your teeth,” he whispered, voice low and smooth, “just four of them that you won’t need.”
The words took a fast track through one ear and out the other. Something about teeth and the number four. Will would figure it out later. This wasn’t usually how his dreams went. Usually at this point, Mike was holding his face in his hands repeating some sort of rom-com-esque monologue to him while tense orchestra music played in the background.
“Hm,” Will managed to eke out, as Mike retreated and did another once over of him, “that’s a lame secret.”
Mike let out a laugh through his nose, shaking his head. His inky curls swept across his cheekbones like one of Will’s paintbrushes on a canvas. It all happened in slow motion. At least, it did from Will’s perspective, the reflection of the overhead lights casting a shadow on the crown of Mike’s head. Fitting.
“Oh, yeah? You have a better one or something?”
Will’s head was bobbing up and down before it occurred to him that he was nodding. It felt nice, like he was floating down a lazy river, water lapping gently.
“Mmmhmm,” he mumbled, leaning back against the pillows, “but we can’t tell Mike,” he warned.
Mike’s brow raised, an amused smile creeping up onto his face. “Oh, we can’t tell Mike? Must be something crazy then.”
“Yep,” he replied, popping the ‘p’ dramatically, “it’s, like, super top secret,” he added, sitting up abruptly again and putting his hands on Mike’s shoulders, slumping forward, “Ca-razy.”
“Uh huh,” Mike mumbled sweetly, “well, can I hear this almighty secret?”
Will looked up at Mike, and his heart swelled with some feeling he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He opened his mouth to say something, what was it? He wasn’t sure. Did Will have any secrets? He wasn’t sure anymore, as far as he was aware, he told Mike everything.
“You’re pretty,” he blurted, nodding his head affirmatively as if that would help etch his words into stone.
“O-Oh?” Came the response from Mike, face twisted up in curiosity, “that so, hm?”
Will shrugged. “Well yeah,” he responded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, shaking Mike by his shoulders, “but not, like, girl pretty,” he assured, “you’re like, like Mike pretty, mhm.”
Mike’s chin tipped down, releasing a breath before chuckling incredulously. “Well, thank you for sharing your incredibly almighty secret,” he remarked, genuine fondness sweeping the sarcasm out of his words, “you’re not too bad yourself.”
Will’s laugh came out like a squeal, shoving Mike’s shoulders back and watching him sway like a pendulum. “You’re so silly, Mikey,” he teased, shaking his head again, “that’s not the secret.”
“C’mon,” Mike pleaded, hands clasped in front of his chest, “I told you my secret, you have to tell me yours.”
“Nuh-uh,” Will denied, waving a finger in front of Mike’s face gracelessly, “I promised I wouldn’t tell Mike. And I don’t break my promises.”
A moment of silence followed, save for the whir of the wind smacking against Mike’s window. Will settled back against Mike’s pillows, taking in a deep breath through his nose. Ahh. The pillow cover smelled like Mike, comfortable and homey, with a whisper of eucalyptus.
“Who did you promise?”
Will stirred slightly, wrinkling his nose in defiance. “Hm?”
Mike shrugged, tracing circles into his bedsheet. “The secret. Who’d you promise not to tell?”
Will blinked at him owlishly, not quite understanding Mike’s question. Wasn’t it obvious?
“Me, duh,” he scoffed incredulously, “I promised me that I wouldn’t tell Mike the secret.”
Mike hummed in response, drumming his fingers against his jeans. He seemed to ponder Will’s words for a moment, before a metaphorical lightbulb went off above his head.
“But…you can tell Mikey, right?”
Any other day than today, Will would probably have barked out a laugh and said something about how Mike is so full of shit. How there was no way he was going to admit anything else to him for fear of putting strain on their relationship. Friendship. Best friendship? He wasn’t even sure anymore.
“Hmm,” he contemplated, peering up at Mike curiously. With his eyes half closed and Mike’s hair draped in a way similar to how it was when he was a little kid, he did look like a six year old version of Mike Wheeler.
“Okay, Mikey,” he drawled, holding up his hand with his pinky extended, “but you have to pinky swear not to tell Mike.”
A cold finger hooked his pinky, giving it a gentle squeeze. Mike (Mikey?) held their hands up between the two of them.
“Okay. I won’t tell Mike.”
Will shook their pinkies together like it was a handshake after a long job interview. Mike’s hand felt so natural in his, even if it was just one finger. He scowled, wriggling his hand to better clasp Mike’s hand in his. Sighing contentedly, he leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes. He tugged their intertwined hands toward him and let them rest on his chest. The warmth from his hand felt better than any pain medication he’d had earlier.
“Well?”
Will’s eyes opened, forehead wrinkling in frustration that a noise startled him out of his haze. “What?”
Mike laughed exasperatedly, squeezing Will’s hand. “The secret, Will. Tell me the secret.”
Will hummed in realization. “Ohhh, oh, yes yes,” he mumbled, giggling to himself under his breath, “are you ready?”
Mike swallowed down a laugh, nodding. “I’ve been ready for the last half hour or so.”
“Come closer,” Will pleaded, his free hand motioning, “it’s a secret so I have to whisper it.”
If Will wasn’t so delirious from the drugs, he might have been able to notice how Mike’s expression shifted, if only for a moment, to something more intense than curiosity. Something a little shyer.
But it went unnoticed, so Mike leaned in a little closer. Evidently not close enough, given Will's disapproving look on his face.
“You’re moving too slow, I said closer,” he huffed, giving a harder tug on Mike’s shirt enough for his chest to rest on their still intertwined hands. It took a brief second for him to get accustomed to the new pressure that rested against him, but it was certainly a welcome one.
“...this close enough?”
Will nodded plainly, watching the lump in Mike’s throat bob up and down like a yo-yo. His lips twitched into a smile. A yo-yo would be so fun right now. Wait, what was he doing again?
“Yo-yo.”
“Huh?”
Will blinked. “A yo-yo! Remember when we used to play with them and Dustin got them tangled in his braces?” He dissolved into a fit of laughter, cheeks growing more tender by the moment, but he couldn’t help it. He felt so light and free. Is this how Jonathan felt when he was high? He understood it now, if that was the case.
“Will,” Mike interrupted sternly, gaining his attention with a tap on his cheek, feather-light, barely there. A sliver of sobriety zipped through him, almost returning him to his base-line, sober state. But it was there as soon as it left, now replaced with a dizzying sensation of infatuation.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” he hummed.
If Mike wasn’t so antsy, he might have laughed at that. “Will, you’re killing me, just spit it out!”
“Spit it out?” Will’s face warped with disgust, tongue toying with the sutures at the extraction sites, “that’s yucky. Spit is gross.”
“Oh my god,” Mike groaned, hanging his head in defeat, “tell. Me. The. Secret.”
Right! That’s what this was for, the secret. There was too much for Will to focus on, between the proximity of him and Mike to the uptick in pain that was settling at the angle of his jaw.
Will’s free hand snaked up to clumsily hold Mike’s chin in his palm, his fingers pressing against his cheeks. Mike’s face was so warm, Will discovered, heat blooming under his touch.
“Don’t. Tell. Mike,” he slurred, twisting Mike’s face from side to side as if that would help the words land, “but I…” he paused, whether to gather his thoughts or for dramatic effect, neither of them would ever know, “I like Mike.”
Mike’s face looked utterly ridiculous, lips and cheeks squished between Will’s one hand. “Mm?”
Will released his grip on his face, wrestling his hand free from Mike’s so he could put both his hands under Mike’s jaw.
“But you can’t tell him, okay, Mikey?”
“I,” Mike started, “I mean, aren’t we-you, like, best friends?”
Will giggled. “No. Well, yes, but I mean like,” he sighed dramatically, warm breath ghosting across Mike’s face, “I liiiiike Mike,” he let out another snort of a laugh, “like Mike, that rhymes!”
“Like…like like him?”
Will moved Mike’s head to make him nod. As if that would finally make him understand.
“Oh. Oh.”
Will shrugged, disappointment creeping into his voice. “Yeah, but,” he blew air out, lips stuttering against one another, “he doesn’t like me back.”
Mike’s face seemed to jolt at Will’s confession. “How…how do you know that?”
“Oh, Mikey,” Will lamented, giving his cheeks a gentle squeeze, “you are so dumb. Mike is this…picture perfect son,” he started, “who’s gonna marry the girl next door and have two perfect kids and live in a biiiiig house with two kids,” he paused, “and maybe a dog.”
“Will-”
“It’s okay though,” Will admitted, sheepishly, “I’ll get over it,” he mumbled, glancing up at Mike’s face, whose face was still cradled in his hands. Huh. Mikey looked an awful lot like Mike. What a crazy coincidence.
“No, Will,” Mike started, putting one hand over the other boy’s, “you don’t…you don’t know that I, err, that Mike…doesn’t like you. Like you back.”
Will studied him curiously, squinting his eyes. “And do you know that Mike likes me back? Hm?”
Mike’s eyes widened greatly. Will felt his hands burning against Mike’s cheeks, fingers feeling sticky and sweaty against his skin. Mike took too long, apparently, to answer Will’s question.
“Your face is all red,” he commented.
Mike let out a breath through his nose, peeling Will’s hands off his face, but not letting them go just yet. Their fingers rested against one another tentatively.
“Yeah? Well, yours is starting to get swollen and bruise around the jaw,” he countered.
Will inhaled sharply, bringing his hands up to his own face. It felt foreign to him, not used to how tender and puffy his cheeks were feeling. “Oh, no,” he groaned, looking up at Mike, pupils dancing with worry, “does it look bad?”
Mike’s expression softened, and something stirred in Will. A realization of sorts, if you will. Fleetingly, a bubble of panic rose up in his chest, but before he could sort out his own thoughts Mike derailed them with his next words.
“No, Will, it looks,” he paused, pressing his finger pads against Will’s, “you look…beautiful.”
Beautiful. The word floated out of Mike’s mouth and got caught in Will’s chest, like a moth to a flame. The moment of awe was short lived, cut off by a sharp laugh erupting from Will’s stomach.
“You’re so funny,” he exclaimed, “beautiful is for…well, it’s for girls and girlfriends. And art sometimes. And sometimes sunsets, and oh, and sunrises too! And-”
Will’s cut off with Mike’s finger pressed against his lips, chapped and with remnants of dried blood smeared in the corners.
“Why can’t it be for you?”
Will supposed it was a fair question. Why couldn’t it be for him? Well, for one, he was a boy and he certainly didn’t look beautiful with his face all puffy and swollen. He remembered how his brother looked when he got his wisdom teeth out. Then again, Jon didn’t listen to the dentists and smoked later that day, developing dry socket. If Will looked anything like Jon did when he was recovering, he probably looked wrecked.
“I…actually don’t know,” he admitted lamely, meeting Mike’s eyes nervously, “do you…do you actually think I’m beautiful? Even like this?”
The drugs had worn off enough for Will to see Mike’s expression shift, transforming into something painfully fond. It made his whole head ache, and not from the dental visit earlier.
“Friends don’t lie, remember,” he whispered, “of course I do.”
The confirmation did something to Will, his gut twisting. Mike’s smile was so soft, voice low and peaceful like the one that was reserved for him. Mike’s voice had always managed to soothe him when things were stressful or scary or-
Wait.
Wait.
Mike’s voice. Mike was telling him that he was beautiful. How had that even happened? He wanted to claw at the edges of his mind, pull back in the warm and giddy feeling that came with the anesthesia from earlier, but it was lost. Gone. Dissolved into near nothingness. All he was left with was a hollow, sobering feeling of oh shit, what have I done.
“Mike?”
“Yeah?”
Will blinked, almost in disbelief. His hands reached up to Mike’s face, the urge to know he was real trumping the anxiety that came from being so physically close.
“Are you…is this…real?”
The corners of Mike’s mouth curled upwards into a careful, puzzled smile. “Yes…? Why, is something wrong? Are you in pain?”
Yes, Will wanted to say. His thumbs brushed against his cheekbones, studying the smatter of light freckles that dotted Mike’s face.
“I…told you that I liked you,” he said slowly, coming out almost like a question. He half expected Mike’s memory to be jogged enough for him to wrinkle his face in disgust.
But instead, Mike's face managed to soften even more, leaning against Will’s hands with the faintest increase in pressure.
“Mhm,” he hummed in response, “and…do you remember what I said?”
Will wasn’t sure if he wanted to try and remember what Mike said in response. He wasn’t certain he could trust his own mind or memory. It had only deceived him in the past. He tore his hands away from Mike’s face, shaking his head and sinking his face into his palms. His entire head was pounding with pain, partially from the wisdom teeth, mostly from the pressure that was building behind his eyes as he tried to swallow down the tears that were forming.
“Will,” Mike said softly, nudging him lightly, “c’mon, Will, look at me.”
Will nearly always gave in to Mike, but he felt so embarrassed that he couldn’t bother right now. His fingernails dug into the skin by his hairline.
“Are you grossed out?”
It came out squeaky and uncertain, the words landing in the palms of Will’s hands.
“What?” Mike’s voice echoed out into the room. “No, Nancy’s had her wisdom teeth out, I know that it-”
“No,” he huffed, shaking his head, allowing the few tears to trail along his lashes, clumped together wetly, “no, not that. Are you…grossed out by…me liking you?”
Will felt sick saying that out loud. Mike already knew he was gay, but this was new territory, treading at the edges of their friendship. What if this was all too much for Mike to handle? What if it made things weird?
Then, quieter, in the back of his mind.
What if Mike hated him for this?
A quiet sigh escaped Mike’s lips. “You are so, so, dumb,”
Will winced, his red rimmed eyes meeting Mike’s warm and welcoming gaze. Well, if nothing else, at least Mike didn’t look like he wanted to hurl. In fact, he looked…giddy?
“I’m…what?”
Mike's hands surged forward, cupping Will’s jaw tenderly and oh, this had to be a dream. Except that the touch on his face was so gentle and so inviting that Will prayed to whatever god wasn’t already on the phone with some mortal that this was real. Mike’s thumb brushed lightly against Will’s bottom lip.
“You,” he whispered, face seeming to inch impossibly closer, “are so,” his forehead pressed against Will’s, “so,” the tip of his nose grazed against the other boy’s, “so dumb.”
He was hallucinating, that’s definitely what this was. Hell, he was probably still knocked out at the oral surgeon’s office waiting to wake up from his wisdom tooth surgery. This was all a stupid dream!
“I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”
That was a new one. The dream usually ended with Will leaning in and Dream Mike faded away into nothingness, becoming a mist that dissipated into the vast void of his mind. As it stood, Mike was still real, his hands still on his face, warm breath hitting his lips every few seconds. Maybe anesthesia just made his dreams all the more real.
Or maybe, it wasn’t a dream at all.
Mike didn’t disappear into thin air, no. Instead, his lips brushed against Will’s softly, pressure on them nearly non-existent, but there. Will’s lips and face ached from the touch, a blend of relief and anxiety all at once. And, oh, was this better than all of his dreams. Selfishly, he wished this were happening under better circumstances. Maybe after a house party when everyone was tipsy, or under a lamplight during a misty rainfall. He certainly didn’t imagine this kiss, his first kiss, to be in Mike’s room while he was recovering from surgery.
Oh. That’s right. He was kissing Mike.
Will tugged back, head hitting the headboard. This was definitely real. His head and jaw never hurt in his dreams.
Mike looked positively dazed, eyes wide in disbelief. “Was that…okay?”
And Will laughed, because he thought it was utterly insane that Mike Wheeler was asking him if their kiss (their kiss!) was ‘okay’.
“I mean, aren’t my lips still, like, bloody from the extractions? You didn’t think that,” he paused, picking at a fraying thread on his sweater, “that it was gross?”
Mike shook his head vigorously. “You think that blood is going to be what scares me off? Might I remind you that we’ve literally been to other dimensions.”
Will smiled sheepishly, ducking his head down. “You have a point,” he replied. Then, after a beat, “would you wanna do that again?”
“What, kiss you?”
Somehow hearing the words said aloud was even more embarrassing than just thinking about them.
“Yeah, that.”
Mike shrugged. “I could be convinced,” he teased lightly, “but,” he added, tipping Will’s chin up, “you can’t tell William I have a crush on him. Gotta keep that our secret.”
Will bit down on his lip to avoid smiling like a fool. “You have my word,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand along his jaw tenderly.
“Does it hurt? Here,” he offered, clambering off the bed, “how about I go grab you some painkillers and water and some sort of snack? I know mom just got some yogurt if you want."
“I’ll take the drugs, thank you very much,” Will sighed, leaning back against the pillow, attempting to focus on the warmth in his chest and not the ache in his head, “...and some yogurt would be nice too.”
Mike nodded, giving him a soft look before ducking out of his room and padding down the stairs.
Will let out a quiet breath, looking up at the ceiling, the room no longer spinning around him. He tried to smile to himself, wincing as his cheeks twitched. That painkiller could not come soon enough. His fingers traced gingerly over his lips. His Mike-kissed lips. The thought alone had him buzzing with glee.
Maybe he didn’t need the painkiller afterall.
Maybe he just needed another kiss.