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Moonlight reflects through the windows of the church, shining on the pews and highlighting the soft contrast of dark shadows and quiet rays of light. The faint fog of the night casts a light haze outside, surrounding the church with a misty atmosphere.
It's nights like these where Will finds solace in the church. It's not on days where he's watching a minister preaching up on a pedestal or on days where his father forces him to go to mass or on days where he needs to find God the most. It's on still nights where the only ones in the church are Will and the Lord.
Will gets on his knees in front of a wooden pew, clasping his hands together.
He'll pray for comfort, or something to distract him from what's been done.
He'll pray his sickness away until every ounce of blood in him dries.
He doesn't say the prayer out loud, because hearing himself say it makes his struggles too raw and too real. He hopes that God can still hear him.
There have been countless times where it's been proven that God was never listening. Yet, Will continues to pray. It's a false sense of safety.
The whole prayer is a plea for forgiveness and serenity—yet forgiveness and serenity are only promised in Heaven and not on Earth.
Sometimes, Will wishes he wasn't on this planet anymore. He dreams of pastel colors and ivory clouds painted in the bright sky with pearly gates somewhere below it and angels singing in the distance.
But then, he realizes that he's not destined for that afterlife.
He realizes that he's damned to hell for his sins.
That is why he's kneeling in front of this wooden pew, repenting his wrongdoings and begging for something peaceful to overtake him instead of the guilt and shame he feels.
Will has called out to the Lord, and the silence that fills the church is his response.
Just like it always has been.
Just like it always will be.
-
Will isn't a stranger to what's wrong and what's right.
He had to learn over the years.
He had to learn that it's not okay to be too close with a boy. That it's not okay to be too touchy with a boy. And that it's certainly not okay to be in love with a boy.
Not when he's a boy too.
So he's repressed his feelings for as long as he can remember.
Every time Will sees the crinkle in his best friend's brows, or the way he paces when he's nervous, or the way his face lights up when he's excited, those feelings that Will has tried so hard to push down decide to resurface.
And every time Will gets called a queer or some derogatory name, he's incredibly ashamed of those feelings. The ones that he can't seem to hide.
It's written all over him.
He's a walking target, and he's been shot at far too many times to count.
The last time he was hit, it was like he was pointing the bow and arrow at himself.
Because he made a mistake.
A terrible mistake.
-
"Mike, I don't think that's a good idea."
"What are you talking about? It's a great idea."
Mike begins to climb out the window, his mom's opened champagne and his walkman in hand.
"Are you coming or not?"
Will hesitates, just before saying:
"Fine."
He follows Mike out the window, finding a spot to sit on the roof—and puts as much distance between him and his best friend as he can.
Will is taking his secret to his grave.
He can't afford to slip up.
"Why're you all the way over there? Come over here," Mike waves his hand toward him, gesturing for Will to sit closer.
"Why?"
"Well—I… It's cold out here. You're probably warm."
Will's face heats up. He studies Mike's flustered expression. His fluttering eyelashes and sparkling, brown eyes and beautiful mouth are enough for Will to run way too hot out here.
Mike's rosy cheeks must be from the cold, Will tells himself.
He hopes Mike assumes the same about him.
"Okay."
Will huddles up with Mike, and Mike leans into Will's shoulder. His shaggy curls tickle Will's neck delicately. Like a soft and sweet whisper. Like background music that you remember is playing every once in a while. Like gentle morning sunlight peeking through lace curtains.
"I was right."
Will's mind draws a blank.
"Huh?"
"You're really warm," Mike smiles.
Will hopes that Mike doesn't suspect anything of it. In the sense that—Will is filled to the brim with pure heat because his nervous system decides to turn into something a bit like fireworks whenever he's around Mike.
Will fidgets with his fingers like always. It doesn't necessarily calm him, but distracts him instead.
Mike shifts a bit, then nudges Will.
Will turns to see Mike holding out an earbud. He takes it, letting himself hear the music.
In this world, I lock out all my worries and my fears
In my room
In my room (in my room)
Will smiles. It means:
I love you.
But he could never actually admit that. He could never say those words out loud because he knows he means them more than anything else he's ever said and then it'd all be too real. He can't say them because he knows it's dirty and wrong and unacceptable. So instead, he says:
"The Beach Boys?"
"You know it," Mike smiles back. It means:
I knew you'd like this song.
Will lets out a shy laugh.
Mike takes a generous sip of the champagne that Will forgot was even in his hand.
He looks up at Will, holding the champagne up. And at first, Will hesitates. The smell of alcohol usually sets off something in him that's similar to panic. Or dread. His dad ruined it for him a long time ago. Whether Will was 10 years old watching his dad stumble around the house blacked out, or whether Will was 15 years old downing shots for the first time and finally realizing that there's no way his dad's hatred for him came from alcohol (Will refused to drink beer when trying it), the feeling was all the same. It was almost shameful in some way. It was always almost shameful in some way.
Yet, Will still accepts the bottle of champagne. He's actively reclaiming something, for his own sake. He can't let his dad have that power over him. Not when he's worked so hard to let go of the past and find control in his godforsaken life.
He drinks the champagne.
He chugs it, actually.
And then he regrets it, because what if he says something that he can't take back when he's tipsy and his guard is down?
He gives the bottle back to Mike.
Mike takes a larger sip than last time.
Then, he rests his head on Will's shoulder again.
And when time goes by, Will starts to feel fuzzy and happy. He knows he's buzzed, and can't help but want more. Despite the consequences.
So he drinks more. And more. And more.
And more—until he's dizzy and way too giggly.
Will knows that Mike is drunk too by the way he gets clingy and sappy, and by the way he sighs so contently, nuzzling his head into the crook of Will's neck.
Will is just grateful that Mike can't see the bright crimson shade of his face right now. And that he gets to be in this moment.
"Do you ever think… like, sometimes… you wish something could last forever? But then you realize that forever isn't promised to anyone? And then you get sad?" Mike asks.
Will's eyes widen.
Because he knows exactly how it feels.
"Yeah…" Will replies. "I do."
Be Like a Woman starts on the walkman.
Show me the light
Will's faith has been fading recently. Even though it was all he knew for a good portion of time.
But he's starting to think that Mike is some sort of god himself. He's starting to think that Mike is the light. His light.
Tell me a story
And make it a good one
Will wants to believe a narrative that doesn't exist. He wants to live in a story where boys can be close with each other and be touchy with each other and be in love with each other freely. He knows a world like that doesn't exist.
Maybe he'll have to write his own narrative where one does.
Will breathes in Mike. His oxygen. His light.
He smells like the same laundry detergent his mom has used for 10 years straight and something warm and inviting. Something like home.
"I really like being with you. Here."
The statement catches Will off guard.
I really like being with you.
If only Mike meant it in some other way.
Some romantic way.
Some…
Some dirty and wrong and unacceptable way.
Clarity hits Will hard. Like an unmoveable force. Because he isn't supposed to be doing this—and he knows that.
He had to learn that it's not okay to be too close with a boy. That it's not okay to be too touchy with a boy. And that it's certainly not okay to be in love with a boy.
None of this is okay.
It was all temptation. And Will fell right into it. He fell into a high that he'll always be chasing. And he's still damned to hell for that. He always will be, because he was born a sinner. And no matter how hard he's tried to change that—it's in his blood. It always comes back to this. Falling into temptation. Giving into the wrong and the reckless.
Do what you want
But be like a woman to me
What if Will was a girl? A girl that Mike liked?
Would Mike go further than this? Would he maybe kiss Will and say it was an accident in the morning or something stupid like that?
It would at least be something.
It wouldn't be sinful anymore.
Will's stomach twists, in a nauseating way. All the praying he's been doing, all the hope he's had—it all means nothing. It never did mean anything.
Will swallows it down—the weird ache in his throat.
His eyes sting, and the cold air hitting them only makes it harder to fight tears.
He really doesn't want to cry in front of Mike. Not when things were going so good. It doesn't matter if he does or not though, because Mike says:
"Will, what's wrong?"
The first tear falls, and then the second, and then it's like someone turned a faucet on and it won't turn off.
Will's shoulders shake violently until Mike's weight crashes into his and he feels Mike just holding him.
Mike's arms feel so warm and secure around Will and it only makes everything worse.
"F…Fuck, I'm–I'm s–sorry," Will's voice breaks.
"No. No, it's okay," Mike reassures him. "Is it your dad?"
Will honestly wishes this was just about his dad and nothing else. But it's not about that. It's about everything else.
It's easier to lie than to tell the truth.
"I–I guess."
Will's a bit calmer, or just distracted by the lie he's telling.
"Shit, I'm so sorry. I should've never—"
Well, Will really didn't think that one through.
"No! No… I… I just… It was random. I don't… regret anything. I liked—um… this. I—"
Mike looks up at Will with the saddest, guiltiest, and prettiest eyes Will has ever seen.
He doesn't know if that or the truth that he could've told is worse.
He feels just about as guilty as his best friend looks.
"I—Okay. I…"
The tears come again. Will becomes a hysterical mess.
"I—I… Mike, I don't—Fuck, I just—Actually j–just f…forget all of th–that. I lied, o–okay? M–My dad—sure he's… he's…"
Will sobs.
"I d–don't want you t–to feel g…guilty. Because… B–Because… I d–didn't tell the—the truth. I don't—I… I just… There's s–some things th–that I–I just c–can't say." The end of Will's sentence is barely a whisper. It's painful to say out loud.
Mike's thumb draws circles on Will's torso and he threads his fingers through Will's hair.
"Okay," he responds quietly, continuing to soothe Will.
"I–I'm so s–sorry."
"Hey," Mike looks into Will's eyes, hands moving out of his hair to cup his jaw. "Look at me. I'm not mad at you, you know. You don't… need to be sorry at all. Like, I… you don't owe me anything. I don't need to know what's going on to help you feel better, even if I really want to."
Will doesn't even notice the moments when Mike slurs his words.
He grips onto Mike's jacket tightly.
"We can go inside. It's warmer. And you'll feel better. If you rest," Mike says.
"O–Okay."
Will and Mike cling to each other as they head back through the window so they don't stumble and trip and fall.
They sneak to Mike's room, still carefully steadying themselves on one another and pale–painted walls instead of brick.
Mike closes the door behind Will, nodding his head toward his bed.
"You can lay down, you know."
Will hesitates before allowing himself to fall back on Mike's mattress. The action feels heavy and slack because of the champagne.
He takes in the soft golden light of Mike's bedside lamp and the colorful posters on Mike's walls and the way Mike's comforter feels like the ivory clouds painted on heaven's skies. It's all so distracting that Will didn't even notice his uncontrollable crying transforming into silent, salty tears.
He likes to imagine that the salt in his tears is the same salt in an ocean somewhere out there. Matter isn't destroyed nor created, they say. Some people believe they came from God, and some people believe they came from the stars in the sky above them. Will believes that he came from the Earth—and that he's made up of all of the things on it. He believes that he's the salt in the ocean, the clouds in the sky, the soil in the ground, and the heat in fire. He believes that he is entirely made up of particles that are a product of the love God—or whatever's out there—chose to put into everything on this planet.
Will feels that he was made with care.
He wishes living life was as simple as being present in it.
He wishes that he could leave the Earth with the same care that was taken in creating him.
He wishes, wishes, and wishes.
And it all comes back to faith. Not just in the Lord, but in everything else in the world.
He doesn't say the prayer out loud, because hearing himself say it makes his struggles too raw and too real. He hopes that God can still hear him.
There have been so many times where it's been proven that God was never listening. Yet, Will continues to pray. It's a false sense of safety.
Every night that Will has spent in that damn church, he's spent it wishing.
But…
Not all dreams come true.
Eventually, you wake up.
-
Will's knees hurt from how long he's been kneeling in front of this pew.
He's been reflecting in silence, which might be worse than living out the consequences his faults.
But then, he figures that this is the consequence of his faults. This moment is a punishment. This moment is supposed to show Will that what he did was dirty and wrong and unacceptable. And Will knows that. He did what he did and he knew it was dirty and wrong and unacceptable—and he did it anyway. That is deeper than some innocent mistake. That's his own conscious and sick and twisted doing.
Will breathes in the air of the church.
It smells like old paint on the white, wooden walls surrounding him and the scent of pine coming in from the forest outside and the distinct smell of the outdoors at night.
It makes Will feel alive.
He wonders if it makes the Lord feel alive too.
"If you can… um."
Will has a thought, and it's:
This is so stupid.
He doesn't know why he just started to talk to a being that's not listening to him. It's like his brain was working infinitely faster than his mouth.
Will has always been a dreamer though.
Not all dreams come true.
Eventually, you wake up.
"If you can hear me… Please. At least show me that you're there."
A chilled breeze drags across the room.
And for a second, Will closes his eyes.
He imagines that he's the salt in the ocean, the clouds in the sky, the soil in the ground, and the heat in fire.
He pretends that he's unbreakable—a man who can't be moved.
He pretends that he knows what he's doing. That he knows where and how to find God and how to make his moments with him count.
And he pretends that the Lord still loves him the way he used to.
-
Will stares at Mike's ceiling as Mike holds him. He can't look Mike in the eyes while this is happening, but still—just for a moment—everything feels a little bit better.
Mike pulls back.
"You feeling okay?"
"Yeah," Will utters.
"Music?"
"Sure."
Mike gets up slowly, stumbling to his 70s stereo that sits on his desk.
Will hears a click, and then music.
I'm out of my mind
And it's only over you
I'm out of my mind
And it's only over you
It's a love song, and Will doesn't think much of it. But it only worsens the sinful thoughts he has of Mike and triggers his nervous system into a firework show all over again. Flying sparks burn parts of Will's insides as Mike spoons him again.
He allows himself to take a quick, guilty glance at Mike.
And his breath catches when he sees his best friend already staring at him. He hopes Mike doesn't notice the action. Thoughts circle Will's mind.
Is there something on my face?
Did he figure it out?
Does he know?
Will tears his gaze off of Mike, but he still feels Mike's eyes on him.
"Will," Mike breathes out. It's a dreadful and sensual sound.
It was all temptation. And Will fell right into it.
Will tries to ignore the feeling of scorching heat crawling up his veins and arteries.
It always comes back to this.
Will can only think:
Don't say my name like that, because if you do, the prayers and apologies I've sent to God mean absolutely nothing.
He already feels the ache of want.
Falling into temptation.
"Hm?"
Giving into the wrong and the reckless.
"Was it about me?"
Will's blood runs cold at the question. He knows exactly what Mike is talking about.
"No. No, it's okay," Mike reassures him. "Is it your dad?"
Will honestly wishes this was just about his dad and nothing else. But it's not about that. It's about everything else.
The world around him stops spinning, and it's like everything's frozen in time.
Will's stomach twists, in a nauseating way. All the praying he's been doing, all the hope he's had—it all means nothing. It never did mean anything.
"I…"
He can't lie to Mike. He never could.
Will reminds himself that he's the salt in the ocean, the clouds in the sky, the soil in the ground, and the heat in fire. He's unbreakable. He knows what he's doing. The Lord loves Will and he'll protect Will from temptation and all evil.
At least that's what Will forces himself to believe.
My heart's your future
Your future is me
Will listens to the song like it'll ground him.
"I'm sorry," he utters quietly.
"For what?" Mike asks. There's genuine confusion written over his face.
Will is sorry for being so close with Mike. Will is sorry for being so touchy with Mike. And Will is greatly sorry for being in love with Mike.
"I… can't say it."
If he says it, it'll make things real—and so much worse than they are now.
"You don't have to."
Will knows that Mike still won't understand what he means—maybe for the first time ever. But, Will still feels warm all over. The explosion of fireworks inside of Will turns into a supernova. The sparks inside of him are now bright little stars, hung in a vast galaxy, surrounding that supernova.
It's so wrong.
But it feels so right.
Will avoids looking at Mike any longer.
Maybe if he doesn't look at his best friend, he won't feel so nefarious for his actions.
"Hey," Mike says kindly, grabbing Will's jaw ever so softly and turning Will's head to face him. "I…"
Will looks up at Mike, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. He doesn't notice how obvious he's being.
They sit there for a moment.
Will's heart beats out of his chest, the rate of it so fast that he thinks he might go into cardiac arrest.
"This might be weird and totally out of the blue, but... do you… uhh—like… you know? Are you..."
Will's breath hitches.
He knows.
Nobody says gay out loud unless they're trying to insult Will.
And every time Will gets called a queer or some derogatory name, he's incredibly ashamed of those feelings. The ones that he can't seem to hide.
Will is grateful for his best friend being cautious around the subject instead of aggressive, at least.
It's written all over him.
Will has a thought, and it's just:
Is it really that obvious?
"I—Well… I don't—It's not obvious—you're…"
"Fuck, did I just say that out loud?" Will asks, and it comes out rushed and worried.
"Will. It's okay."
Will sighs in relief.
Mike drapes a hand over Will's waist.
"Is this—umm… Is this okay?"
Will nods.
"Are you sure?"
"Y–Yeah."
Will's nerve endings feel tingly and it's like he's on fire with the amount of heat coming from him right now.
The relief he feels from Mike still being able to touch him doesn't override the guilt he feels because of the sin he's committing.
"I shouldn't… This is wrong."
"What?" Mike looks really disappointed.
"I can't—you…" Will pauses. "We can't be touchy like this. Not when—"
"When what?"
Mike sounds frustrated—or sad. Will can't decipher it. Even in the height of those emotions, he never fails to keep his tone soft and loving.
Will's head dramatically spins as he pulls back, partially from the champagne, and partially from Mike.
"Not when I feel like I'm going crazy."
Will immediately regrets what he said because of the underlying message.
His eyes stay on the floor as Mike starts to speak.
"You…" Mike doesn't finish his sentence. Instead, he says:
"Really?"
Tears pool in Will's eyes.
"Shit, I–I didn't… I promise I didn't mean that, Mike. I sh–should… I should go home."
"Wait—"
Will bolts out of the room before ever looking up.
"Will!"
The fact that Mike doesn't run after Will tells him all he needs to know.
He walks home instead of biking, because the alcohol is still having an effect on him.
Will has never felt so stupid in his entire life. Not when he was watching his father coming home blacked out in elementary school, not when he would get called a fairy or queer in middle school, not when he found out that alcohol doesn't make you shout at and hit people—just hatred does, not when he realized that boys who like other boys don't get to have a fairytale ending—they just get to feel the everlasting shame of their sexuality, and not when he endlessly searched for God and then learned that he would never get a response.
Will passes through neighborhoods, the beaming moon that hangs up in the sky emitting light upon him.
He wonders if the light uncovers the darkest shadows of evil in him.
Tears fall. Blistering hot tears.
Will is going to hell.
It's inevitable.
He's just waiting for it to welcome him with open arms.
Memories wash over him like waves at sea, the salt in it now making his eyes burn.
"Crazy together."
"Not when I feel like I'm going crazy."
"It's not my fault you don't like girls!"
"Was it about me?"
Will's breathing becomes more shallow and frantic.
He finds his way to the church.
-
Will gets up from the church floor.
He walks into the outdoors, finding his way to the forest.
The champagne isn't wearing off yet.
Reality is finally sinking in.
A cold breeze hits Will in the face.
"If you can hear me… Please. At least show me that you're there."
A chilled breeze drags across the room.
And for a second, Will closes his eyes.
Will realizes that God has been here this whole time.
From the moment Will felt that first breeze.
Will breathes in the air of the church.
It smells like old paint on the white, wooden walls surrounding him and the scent of pine coming in from the forest outside and the distinct smell of the outdoors at night.
It makes Will feel alive.
He wonders if it makes the Lord feel alive too.
God is alive.
He's alive through Will.
He's been speaking to Will.
Will just needed to look a bit harder.
The smell of pine comes again as Will turns deeper into the forest. He doesn't know where he's going, he's simply letting his body take him wherever.
He'll be okay—since God is guiding him.
He makes it past a bunch of trees and buildings.
And he makes it to Lover's Lake somehow.
Sometimes, Will wishes he wasn't on this planet anymore. He dreams of pastel colors and ivory clouds painted in the bright sky with pearly gates somewhere below it and angels singing in the distance.
But then, he realizes that he's not destined for that afterlife.
He sits atop rock, watching the faded clouds in the sky shift.
Then, he speaks.
"Heavenly Father, I know you can hear me. I'm sorry for losing faith. I'm sorry for what I've done. I realize that I was tempted by some greater evil. I know what I did was wrong, and please, I beg you to forgive me for my sins. I need to be guided to a righteous path, and now that I know you're there, I think that could happen. I've been committing to worldly desires… and… not to you. I–I see that now. I've opened my eyes. I see you now."
There's quiet for a moment—and then—a gust of wind.
"I see you!" Will cries out, heart full of hope and gratitude.
A rustle echoes in the distance.
"I know you're there, Lord!"
"Will?"
The voice is quiet. It's sweet. It's comforting.
It's tempting.
It's Mike's.
"What're you doing here?" he asks.
Will's heart drops.
"Please, not right now."
"I… We really need to talk."
"Are you still drunk or something?"
"I don't know, kind of. Are you?"
Will sighs.
"I still feel it."
"Well, yeah. My mom buys the strong champagne."
Mike hesitates before saying:
"Why were you… um. You were talking to the sky?"
"I was talking to God. He listens."
Mike grabs Will's arm hesitantly, like he's afraid to touch him.
"Stop!" Will jerks his arm away from Mike. "You're intruding."
"Will—what?"
"I'm trying to talk to God right now."
"We need to get you home. You're still drunk."
"No! He's finally listening to me!"
"I'm being serious."
"You think I'm not?!"
There's silence for a moment.
"Please, let me take you home."
Will doesn't move. He just crosses his arms.
Mike sits down next to Will.
"You're afraid to touch me."
"What?"
"The way you grabbed my arm," Will starts. "It was like… I'm gross to you," his voice breaks.
"You're not."
"I am."
It becomes harder for Will to breathe and his face is now wet.
He's crying.
And then, he feels a familiar pair of arms wrap around him. Warm and secure, like they usually are.
"S–Stop."
"Why?" Mike asks, his voice a faint whisper.
"Mike."
"Because you think this is wrong?"
A chill runs down Will's spine.
"It is."
Will is still tense in Mike's arms.
"He's watching," he warns.
"So let him."
Will's eyes widen. It all comes back to him. Stolen glances and repression. Derogatory names and wishing he was anyone else. Wishing he was normal.
Will likes to think that he's strong, for putting up with everything he has. But he's not. Deep down, he'll always be someone weak. Someone who needs saving. Someone not worth saving.
Why does he try to get the Lord to save him when he doesn't deserve it?
Will is a dreamer. And dreams—they don't come true. Because eventually, you'll wake up and what's there won't be the illusion you clung so tightly to. What's there will be the harsh reality of being someone you wish you weren't. Being someone you never wanted to be. Being someone you can't stop being. It hurts more than anything else to be uncomfortable in your own skin.
Will wishes he was as pure as the salt in the ocean and the clouds in the sky and the soil in the ground and the heat in fire.
Will wishes, wishes, and wishes.
It's never enough.
"Mike—"
"Shh. Just let him watch, Will."
Will relaxes in Mike's hold.
"That's it," Mike says reassuringly. Praisingly. "You're safe with me."
Will won't be safe in the afterlife. No matter how things are now, it won't matter once he's damned to a pit of fire and eternal suffering.
"Why are you holding me like this?"
"Because I want to. Is that a crime?" Mike jokes.
"Feels like one."
"I know."
The two sit there, watching the moon stay still and bright. Stars peek out through fluffy clouds and the darkness.
Will wishes he believed he came from the stars. They're beautiful. And Will wants to be beautiful. He wants to shine like the beaming specks of pearly white in the sky.
Will looks up at Mike to see his blotchy, pink cheeks and a crinkle in his brows. Moonlight casts a sparkle in his kind eyes.
A chilled breeze drags across Lover's Lake.
This time, it's not only a message from God.
It's a message from the stars too. It's a message from the ocean. It's a message from the sky. It's a message from the earth. It's a message from fire.
The Lord is still here.
He's still watching.
But Will doesn't really mind anymore.
"I'm cold," Mike breaks the silence.
Will can't feel his hands from the temperature out here, so he says:
"Me too."
"Can we go home?"
It feels so domestic—that phrase.
"Yeah."
Will and Mike get up from the rock beneath them, walking into the forest and finding their way home.
-
Will sits on Mike's bed.
He hears a click from the stereo again.
I've Been In Love Before starts.
Another love song?
Catch my breath
Close my eyes
Don't believe a word
Things she said
Overheard, something wrong inside
Mike sits next to Will.
Will feels the alcohol wearing off, so it's easier to put a little space between him and Mike.
"About everything—well. Actually, no. How are you feeling?"
"I have a headache."
"Wait—okay. Stay there."
Mike moves around his room.
Will takes in the sight of everything. It's the same as it was two and a half hours ago, but it feels so different.
I've been in love before
The hardest part is when you're in it
The music hits Will like a punch to the gut.
I've been in love before
I've been in love before
Mike walks up to Will flushed and out of breath.
"Here." He unscrews the cap on the tylenol bottle he's holding, then spills two pills on his palm while a lukewarm cup of water is tucked under his arm.
Mike holds out the pills and water to Will, and it's like Will is floating.
He feels dizzy, and this time, he knows it's not because of the champagne.
"Thanks," he utters, swallowing the pills and washing them down with the water.
Mike lays down, and Will follows.
They face each other, and Will suddenly isn't so afraid anymore.
Mike places a hand on Will's waist, which has become a new usual, thumb finding Will's skin where his shirt rides up and drawing circles on it.
"So. You kinda bolted on me earlier."
Will stiffens, and Mike feels it under his hand.
He almost turns away, but Mike steadies him before he can and pulls him barely a couple inches closer.
Will lets himself be directed.
"Everything's okay, you know? I was just surprised."
"Oh," Will breathes out.
You can't say you're in it, no, until you reach the limit
I've been in love before
"Why did you leave?"
I've been in love before
"I…"
The hardest part is when you're in it
"I think you know why."
Mike tilts his head in confusion.
"I don't wanna be wrong." His thumb stops moving. "Please tell me I'm not wrong."
"Well… what do you—"
Mike brings a hand up to Will's jaw.
"Can I… Um, Can I—"
Will nods, too shocked to form words.
"Will, you have to tell me—"
"Y–Yes. God, yes."
The word just slips out. Will has officially used the Lord's name in vain.
He doesn't even notice.
He's betraying God in so many ways right now, but his mind isn't on that.
Mike slots his lips with Will's, pulling Will as close as he can until their bodies are pressed up against each other.
Will doesn't remember how he imagined kissing Mike would feel.
He doesn't even remember his own name as Mike sucks on his bottom lip.
A breeze comes in from Mike's open window.
It's not God.
It's not the stars or the ocean or the sky or the earth or fire.
It's just wind. And it feels cool on Will's skin as Mike is kissing him.
The supernova.
Will feels something like that happening inside him again. But it's bigger and brighter.
Kissing Mike back is wrong, and Will knows that.
It's so wrong.
But it feels so right.
This feeling is what Will has been chasing every time he's felt some sort of temptation. This is something he'd go to hell over, and he's okay with that. He's okay with it because at least he knows how heaven feels now. Even if it's not the real thing, it's close enough. It's his own personal heaven—one that resides somewhere on Earth. One that resides somewhere in Hawkins, Indiana. One that resides somewhere in the Wheeler house. One that resides somewhere in Mike's bed. His best friend's bed.
Mike tastes like sweetness, and like him. He tastes like the euphoria of carelessly indulging in sin and enjoying it. He tastes like—
Mike breaks the kiss, and before Will can ask why, Mike's mouth is on Will's jaw.
Will's breath catches, and Mike pulls back.
"Is that, um… Was that—"
"Yes, it's fine," Will grins, fighting a laugh.
Mike trails kisses down Will's jaw, finding places on his neck to work with.
Will has never felt something like this before.
It's pure ecstacy.
His breathing gets heavier and it only makes Mike hungrier.
"I—Wait."
Will pulls back this time.
"What does this mean?"
"It means… well…" Mike pauses. "I'll be whatever you want me to."
"What? Wait, no. Mike, what do you want?"
Mike looks away ashamedly.
"I want…"
Will threads his fingers into Mike's curls. That makes Mike look straight at him.
His pupils are blown and his cheeks are flushed, and it's the same look Will gave him hours ago.
Will finally understands what that look means when he sees it on Mike, because he says:
"I want to be with you all the time. I want to sit in silence with your head on my shoulder and just think about how lucky I am. I want to wake up with your body next to mine, and… and I just… I want you."
And Will knows that feeling all too well.
He can't believe he's hearing the description of it come out of Mike's mouth. It's so unbelievable that Will instinctively says:
"You're not… Are you fucking with me?"
"No! Oh my god, no. I'm not. I wouldn't ever do that to you, Will."
The cadence in Mike's voice is similar to when he's being honest and he's flustered about it.
Will knows that this has to be real because of it.
He thinks he might be in heaven already.
Mike just keeps looking at him.
All of the years Will has spent wishing on a miracle, hoping for something more, hoping for a change—it's paid off.
And he's never been happier.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Will asks.
Mike nods, and Will watches him swallow in anticipation.
"I've been in love with you since I was 12. I don't think I realized it until I was 14 though. I thought that—I thought I was the only one. That felt this way. It felt like I was going crazy."
Mike exhales, relief painted on his face.
"You never were. I just took a bit longer to get it. And I'm sorry for that. But, now I–I do get it. I know what I want now… And… It's you. It's always been you."
Tears well up in Will's eyes. The good kind this time.
"Crazy together?"
"Crazy together," Mike says quietly, planting a kiss on Will's forehead.
Will allows himself to feel this moment.
He decides he won't repent for this ever again.
Love can't be a sin—not when it's all Will is made of. Not when it's all Will is destined to give and receive.
Will isn't a sinner. But he's not a child of God either. Matter isn't destroyed nor created, they say. And Will believes that. He believes that he came from the Earth. And he knows that the love put into everything on this planet is within him.
"Sleep?"
"Yeah," Will smiles.
Mike turns the lamp in his room off, pulling the comforter over him and Will. He holds Will close.
As time passes, Will feels Mike's arms around him relax and become heavier.
Moonlight reflects through the windows of Mike's room, shining on his furniture and highlighting the soft contrast of dark shadows and quiet rays of light. The faint fog of the night casts a light haze outside, surrounding the Wheeler house with a misty atmosphere.
It's a night like this where Will finds solace in more than just an old church. He finds solace in the arms of the love of his life. He finds solace in knowing that God doesn't have to love you, because other people will.
It's a night like this that Will could never forget.