Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mike is going insane. 

He is sitting at his desk, finally finishing up the introduction he was writing for this stupid essay he was supposed to be finishing on Monday. It wasn’t actually that stupid. In fact, he thinks he’d quite enjoy the topic his lecturer had assigned them for their Literary Analysis class, if only he could get himself to concentrate on it. Instead, he has been redotting the period at the end of the sentence for the last five minutes, causing his pen to finally bleed through the paper and create a small blue stain on his desk. He tries to force himself to write another sentence, but every time a semi coherent thought enters his brain it flies right back out. 

He can feel it again. 

The skin on the back of his neck prickles, making the fine hairs there stand up. Mike really should be used to it by now, with how often this happens, but no. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feeling of eyes boring into the back of his head, like they can see right through him.

Mike knows what he’ll find if he turns around. Which is why he stubbornly refuses to move.

He makes one last furtive attempt at writing another paragraph, but stops trying when he has to cross out another irrelevant thing that isn’t even related to the subject. The pen is threatening to do even more damage to the desk, getting dragged over the words again and again, so he throws it to the side dramatically and buries his face in his hands before letting out a long exhale through his nose. The feeling of eyes lingering on the back of his neck is still there. It makes him feel jittery, like he is about to vibrate out of his skin.  

He slowly lifts his head from his hands and gives in.

As he swivels his chair around he can feel his heart rate picking up, which is totally ridiculous. This whole situation is ridiculous, Mike thinks, as his eyes find the reason he hasn’t been able to concentrate on his stupid essay. 

Will is sitting on his bed on the other side of the room. He has his knees drawn up to his chest with an open sketchbook balanced against them, absentmindedly tapping a pencil against his lips. And he is looking at Mike. 

No, not looking. Staring. Intensely. 

Which is not a new thing for them, if Mike is completely honest. The looking at each other. They’ve been doing it for years, just not to this degree.  

Every time he enters a room, Mike’s eyes search for Will first. He supposes it started after they had just got him back, to make sure he was still there. That he wasn’t taken away from Mike again. After that it just became a habit to look for Will first, before anything else. His eyes would find Will’s, he’d be satisfied that his best friend was still there and breathing and not taken by interdimensional monsters again, and they would both quickly look away from each other again. It was just another thing that made them inseparable.

And then, Mike started looking for different reasons. It started in the months that Will was living with Mike’s family. Things were still kind of awkward between them, then, after their cross country road trip from California. It felt like they had drifted away from each other, like Mike really didn’t know his best friend anymore. But the weather was getting chilly, and one thing that was still true about Will was that he hated being cold. With most of his clothes still back in Lenora, Mike gave Will one of his sweatshirts to wear. When he had put it on, the sleeves slightly too long and falling over his hands, it startled Mike how good he looked. How good he looked in his clothes. And that he needed to see it more. So, every day, Mike would force Will into another one of his sweaters with the excuse of keeping him warm. And seeing Will, doing the washing up, or eating dinner, in his house wearing his clothes, made Mike feel things. Want things. 

And he knew this wasn’t a normal thing to think when looking at your friend. So he always forced himself to look away.

Mike had noticed though, that sometimes, Will would look at him, too. How could he not notice, when every minute of his free time was occupied by staring at his best friend. But Will was subtle, always looking away before Mike could meet his eyes, and he would just see his eyes quickly dart to the other side of the room. If Mike hadn’t been so attuned to every move his best friend made, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it. But he did stare. So he noticed. 

The important thing here is that Will always looked away before he got caught. 

In the past few weeks, Will had stopped looking away. 

Now, every time Mike felt Will’s gaze burning on the back of his skull, he would turn around to find Will’s eyes looking straight into his own, like he could see into his very soul, or something. He meets Mike’s eyes and just- looks at him. Like there is nothing he’d rather be doing. Like Mike is something worth looking at.

And what makes this situation so ridiculous, is that every time this happens, Mike can feel his heartrate speed up and his throat go dry. And it's happening again right now.

It's driving him crazy. 

He swallows hard and mentally shakes himself. Then he also physically shakes his head for good measure, in the hopes that it will rub his remaining brain cells together so he can form a coherent thought again. It doesn’t work, because when he looks back up, Will is still looking at him. His eyes have gone a bit softer around the edges now, like the way Mike is acting is endearing to him, somehow. Mike isn’t sure why, because he is certain he looks about as insane as he feels right now. 

Which is, again, ridiculous. He shouldn’t feel insane about looking at Will. Or Will looking at him. He blinks, and Mike follows the movement of his eyelashes gently brushing the top of his cheeks. The momentary loss of eye contact makes Mike feel sad, for some reason. Jesus. Get a grip he thinks to himself. Will’s eyes are back on him, wide and open, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Mike realizes that right now he is the one staring. And- shit, he needs to say something, before this gets weird. Well, weirder. 

“Hi,” is what he settles on, like they haven’t been holed up in the same room together for the past two days. 

“Hey,” Will answers back, an amused edge to his tone. “How’s the essay going?”

Will’s gaze is unrelenting. Mike finally tears his eyes away from Will’s and lowers his gaze down Will’s face. The pencil is now resting against his lips. 

Mike feels like his head is stuffed full of cotton. 

Vaguely, he registers that there was a question there that he should probably answer if he doesn’t want to come across as even more of a lunatic than he already maybe does. 

“Uh- I wrote the introduction?” Mike answers. He pulls one of his legs up on the chair, hugging it to his chest. He feels strangely exposed, sitting in the middle of the room like this with his back to the desk. Like Will might be able to see the exact reason he hasn’t been able to progress past the, frankly, mediocre introduction. 

Will smiles, his lips curving upwards against the pencil he’s still holding against them. Mike feels his pulse quicken even more. 

“That’s great!” Will says, sounding genuinely excited for Mike’s middling accomplishment. “Do you maybe want to take a break for a little bit?” He sounds unsure, like Mike wouldn’t literally do anything at this moment to get out from having to do more writing. 

“Sure,” he agrees, careful not to sound too eager. “Did you want to go outside?” 

He sees Will shoot a glance at the window behind him and grimace. Mike also turns to look and sees that it’s pouring, the rain coming down in sheets against the window. “Okay, maybe not.” Damn, he was more distracted than he thought, if he’d missed that as well. “We’ll just do our inside round then.”

Their round was something they’d been doing since the weather was getting colder and going outside for a break lost its appeal. Mike had suggested they just walk around the floors of their apartment building, taking the stairs as a form of exercise. However, after suggesting that, he realised that he was not taking any mandatory gym lessons anymore, and running away from interdimensional space demons also wasn’t on his schedule anymore (thank fuck, no complaints there), which had lead to him barely making it to the top of the third staircase, out of breath and gasping for air. Will had rolled his eyes and called him dramatic. So now, every time they went on their round, Mike made sure to make it to the top of the third staircase just to prove that he could, thank you very much. 

So now here they are, on the fifth floor, three staircases later. Mike is trying to keep his breathing even and failing. Will shoots him a look but doesn’t say anything, because he is nice like that. 

They enter the hallway through the double doors separating it from the stairwell. Mike is still trying to catch his breath, keeping his eyes on the floor so he doesn’t have to look at Will’s amused face. He wonders who designed the carpet, because it’s about the ugliest color he’s ever seen. A sort of muted gray, hinting at the fact that it started out as a different color when it got placed there, before it got trampled by years and years of hurried students. 

They had found out that at the end of the fifth floor hallway, there’s a window overlooking the campus grounds with a windowsill that stretched over a radiator, just wide enough for the two of them to squeeze onto. 

Mike pulls himself up and stretches his legs out along the length of the windowsill, sitting closest to the glass. The rain is hitting it with heavy drops. He leans back against the wall as his toes touch the wall on the other side, his legs slightly bent at the knees. Will pulls himself up unto the windowsill as well, sitting with his back against the opposite wall to Mike so they are facing each other. He also stretches out his legs along the wood surface of the windowsill and presses the soles of his feet into the opposite wall, right next to Mike. He looks at where Mike’s legs are bent to accommodate the length of them, while Will can fully extend his legs. He nudges the toe of his converse into Mike’s side. 

“Do you think you’ll ever stop growing?” he asks. 

“No, I’ll be ten feet tall by the time I’m fifty.” Mike answers. 

Will snorts. “You’re weird.”

“What, you wouldn’t like me anymore if I was ten feel tall?” Mike asks, grinning.

“I didn’t say that, it would just be harder to hang out with you. You wouldn’t fit into my house.” Will says seriously.

“I guess that’s true.” 

“But that’s okay, I’d just have to find a house that’s big enough to fit your giant head.”

“Hey!” Mike let out a surprised laugh. “My head is not that big!”

“Not yet,” Will is grinning back at him. 

Mike can feel his own grin settle into a fond smile as he keeps looking at Will’s own smiling face. 

This. This quiet understanding that they would always have a place in each other’s lives, even if they are joking about it now, still makes Mike’s heart swell up. 

A few years ago, he wasn’t sure if they’d ever be able to return to this. Of course, when they were kids they didn’t really think about it. They would ride their bikes to each other’s houses and spend afternoons, evenings and nights together like they were on a time constraint and had to spend every waking (and non-waking) moment together. They would sit together on Mike’s bed or at Will’s desk and Mike would talk for hours about his plans for a new D&D campaign, or complain about their annoying teacher, or any other nonsensical thing that came to his mind. Will would listen and draw, occasionally showing Mike what he’d created. Sometimes Dustin and Lucas would join to play D&D or for movie nights in Mike’s basement, and every time one of them would claim the spot next to Will on the old couch, Mike would forcibly push himself in between them, often paired with loud protest from Dustin or Lucas. Because that was his place, to be right next to Will at any moment. 

And then Mike had fucked it all up when Will moved to Lenora. He feels his smile falter when he thinks about it.  

Suddenly, he was all alone. Of course, he still had Lucas and Dustin and even Max to hang out with, but his friendship with them had always been different than what he had with Will. When he moved away, it felt like he had taken a piece of Mike with him, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with that. So he didn’t. He tried calling a few times, but Joyce’s new job made it hard to get on the line. He wrote letters to El, because that felt easy. He knew what he was supposed to say, what was expected of him as her boyfriend. 

He wrote letters to Will too. They are still folded away in a drawer somewhere back in Hawkins. 

Then, Mike had visited. He cringes when he thinks about how horrible he had been to Will when he was there. It must show on his face, because Will asks, “What are you thinking about?”

Mike tries to rearrange his face back into a neutral expression. He settles on a grimace. “About what an asshole I was to you when I visited you in California.”

Will looks surprised. “Oh,” he looks down briefly at his hands that are resting in his lap, then back up at Mike’s face. “Mike, we’ve been over this. You already apologized. I forgive you. It’s fine.” 

“But it’s not! I was a complete jerk to you and you deserve to still be angry at me about it.”

“Well, I’m not.” Will answers, looking out the window. The sun has started to break through the dark, heavy clouds and lights up his face in a soft golden glow.

“Why?” Mike presses.

Will looks back at him, confused. “Do you want me to be angry at you?” 

“No, of course not. I just- I guess I don’t understand how you were able to forgive me so easily. I was so focussed on El, and trying to save our relationship, or what was left of it, and I kind of took for granted that you and I would go back to the way we had always been before, you know, in Hawkins. And when we didn’t, I didn’t know what to do with that.” Mike knows he is rambling. He isn’t sure why he is suddenly compelled to share all of this with Will, but it might have something to do with the way his hazel eyes look almost gold in the sunlight, and he is listening to Mike like he holds all the secrets to the universe, so he continues.

“I just wanted things to be normal and work out the way they always had, but nothing was normal anymore because you weren’t there and I- I missed you.” It's the first time he has admitted this out loud to Will. They had talked about it briefly before in the months that Will lived with him, and it’s true that Mike had apologized then, but they’ve never spoken about it in such detail. 

Now it’s Mike’s turn to look out the window. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, and he watches the remaining raindrops on the window slowly trickle their way down. 

“I missed you too,” Will says softly. 

“Really?” Mike asks, eyes snapping back to Will’s. 

Will smiles again. “Yeah. I mean, everything was just so different, suddenly. And even if some things were better there, like, no Upside Down and stuff,” Will holds his gaze, unwavering. “It also didn’t have you.” 

Mike squirms under the earnestness of his words, picking at his fingernails. He has never been very good at sitting still and Will’s attention on him works like a magnet, making Mike feel an urge to lean forward and forward until their noses press together, just to be as close to him as possible. 

His palms become clammy at the thought of Will’s face so close to his own. 

Will continues, “I guess I forgave you so quickly because I was never really angry at you. I was hurt, sure, and I was mostly just scared that you’d forgotten about me- about our friendship, but I was never angry.”

Even though the events they’re talking about happened a few years ago now, Mike can still see a hint of insecurity in Will’s face. He feels a surge of anger for his past self, for ever making Will think that he wasn’t the most important person in Mike’s life.  

“I could never forget about you!” Mike says loudly, leaning forward a bit. Will flinches at the volume of Mike’s outburst but he needs him to know how true it is. He lowers his voice to a normal speaking volume as he continues. “And I’m sorry I ever made you doubt- what you mean to me.” 

He doesn’t elaborate further, doesn’t dare to go into the recesses of his mind to figure out exactly what Will means to him. But it seems to be enough for now. 

Will smiles at him in answer, but this time it fully reaches his eyes. He drops his hand from where he had been fiddling with the hem of his shirt down to rest at his side. His pinky briefly brushes against Mike’s ankle, right between where the material of his jeans end and his sock begins. Mike feels a shiver run from his ankle all the way up his body, and his brain sort of short-circuits. He feels like a walkie-talkie with no receiver on the other end, just static. He’s afraid if he opens his mouth the same noise would come out as well.  

“Thank you, Mike. I mean it. Even if I still don’t think you have anything to apologize for.” 

Mike blinks a few times before he registers what Will just said to him. Even as Will dismisses his apology, Mike can tell it makes him feel better, like it lifted a weight off him. 

When they were younger and spending every possible moment with each other, Mike was able to read Will like one of his D&D manuals, writing notes in the margins about all the new things he learned about the other boy. 

He remembers the times that Will came to school with a faraway look on his face, and he knew that his dad had been horrible to him again without Will having to say anything. Mike would distract him by making up stories about dragons and heroes, and he would smile in relief when Will would laugh at something he said. Or the times when the boys at school would go just a little too far with the mean things they said and Will would be pretending it didn’t get to him, but as they rode their bikes home to one of their houses he would be closed off and Mike knew that it did affect him, so he would sit with him, call the idiots mouthbreathers and just hold Will until he felt better. 

Later, after the whole Upside Down thing had happened, Will was even easier to read, and Mike was always the first one around to calm his friend down. 

Then, after Will moved, all of this changed as well. Lenora really fucked up a lot for them. Well, if he’s being fair, Mike is the one who fucked up. When he came to visit Will he was closed off to him, like the book he had always been able to read had been shut and put away on a shelf he couldn’t reach. 

But in the year and a half that Will lived with him, Mike tried to make an actual effort again to talk to him. It took a while, but they tentatively grew back into what they had before. It isn’t like nothing had happened, there is something between them that Mike can’t quite put his finger on, but they are as close as they had always been, and Mike is able to read Will again. It only felt logical that they would follow each other to the same university, and also, miraculously, to the same dorm. 

They sit in silence for a little while, looking out the window as the dark clouds slowly drift by. 

“We should probably head back,” Will says. Mike turns his head to look at him and finds that, unsurprisingly at this point, Will is already looking at him. His face is still illuminated by the late afternoon sun, making it look softer, somehow. 

He looks really nice, Mike thinks quietly. 

He feels his face grow warm at his internal admission.

“You still have your essay to finish,” continues Will, a teasing smile taking over his face. 

Mike takes it all back. Will is evil. He groans and drops his forehead against the window, banging it against the glass a few times. 

“What are you doing,” Will laughs, “You’re going to give yourself a brain injury!” he pulls Mike away from the window by his shoulders. Instead he flops forward limply, making Will catch him where he is holding him by the shoulders. Which he does. Quite easily. Which is unfair when Mike can’t even walk up the stairs. 

“At least that would give me an excuse not to finish the essay.”

Will laughs again. His hands are still on Mike’s shoulders, warmed up by the heat from the radiator underneath them. The warmth of them bleeds through his long-sleeved shirt and into his skin. Mike's head drops down to Will's collarbone.  

“You’re so dramatic,” Will says, and Mike can almost hear him roll his eyes. 

Mike tilts his head back to look up at Will’s face, the last rays of the setting sun making the shadows there deeper. They are very close together, now, with him slumped over in Will’s hold. He could count his individual eyelashes if he wanted. He kind of does. 

Their eyes meet and something passes between them. 

Mike isn’t sure what to name it, but it feels charged. 

Electric. 

His heart starts beating louder in his chest. He’s afraid Will might hear it, so in order to try and chill the fuck out he breaks eye contact. His gaze darts around Will’s face for a second, before landing on his mouth. Shit. That does not help. 

His pulse keeps racing. 

Will opens his mouth, presumably to say something, but he doesn’t speak. He lets out a shaky breath instead. If Mike didn’t know better, he’d think Will was the nervous one. 

Somewhere far away he has a fleeting thought about how it’s pretty weird to stare at his best friend’s lips for this long. And he’s sure Will has noticed by now. He should really look away. But Will hadn't closed his mouth, his lips slightly parted and looking so very inviting.

They’re so close, there’s only a few inches of space between them.  

And Mike’s feeling so nice and warm on top of the radiator. And safe, still being held up by Will’s hands on his shoulders. It would be so easy to angle his head and lean forward just a tiny little bit and- 

Bang.

Somewhere down the corridor a door slams shut. 

The noise instantly wakes Mike up from his reverie and he jolts up and away from Will, feeling like someone dunked a bucket of ice water over his head.

Will also looks startled, blinking rapidly a few times. 

Mike’s thoughts re-enter his head like a flood. Fuck. Had he really just- did he really just try to- to kiss Will? 

No. He can not let this happen again. He had worked so hard to get them to be best friends again, for them to go back to normal, he can’t fuck it up again.

Especially not by kissing him. Jesus. There would be no going back to normal from that one. At least not for Mike. 

He looks at Will, who seems to have recovered quickly from- whatever the hell that was. He is already looking at him, but when Mike meets his eyes, he looks away. 

Mike feels like he’s already fucked it up.  

“Alright, let’s go back.” Will says and he doesn’t sound angry, or weirded out, or anything. 

Of course he doesn’t, it’s Will. 

Mike could probably set his pillow on fire and Will would still be the one apologizing for it being an inconvenience. 

If anything, he sounds resigned. But that wouldn’t make sense, so Mike dismisses that thought. 

They climb out of the windowframe and quietly make their way back to their dorm. 

-------------------------------

That night, Mike can’t sleep.

He is lying in his bed staring up at the ceiling. He’s been awake for so long that his eyes have fully adjusted to the darkness so he can make out the popcorn texture of it quite easily. 

His mind keeps going back to what had happened earlier in the day.

How he had nearly allowed himself to- to- God, he was so stupid. He’d just been so close to him, and he’d looked so pretty in the sunlight, and- ugh. Great. So now it was not even Will’s staring anymore, now just thinking about him makes his heart speed up. 

He gets sick of the ceiling so he rolls around to glare at the wall instead. 

It really shouldn’t be a new revelation for him, but somehow it still catches him by surprise. 

He tries to sort out the jumble of his brain by thinking back to all the moments that lead up to this.

He’s known for a few years now that the way he’s been looking at Will is not entirely platonic. At all. And he knows that it’s not- normal for boys to look at their male friends and think they look pretty, but the only boy he ever thought of that way was Will. So he didn’t really dwell on it. It was just part of his reality, that Will is pretty and Mike likes looking at him. Nothing more to it. 

And then Will came out.

And it turned Mike’s whole world, ironically, upside down. All of a sudden, it became something tangible, something laid bare in front of him, the truth of why he was always looking at Will. But he didn’t have time, then, to really figure out the mess in his brain. Their impending doom kind of took priority at that moment. And if he’s honest, he just wasn’t ready to face the reality that he might also like boys. Or, well, one boy. So he had shoved his thoughts into a box in the back of his brain and hasn’t dared to open it since. But now he does. 

And it’s like a dam has broken. All of a sudden, his mind is flooded with a wave of all the reasons why he likes looking at Will so much. Because Will is kind, and brave, and so, so good, he always listens to Mike’s menial problems like he’s worth all the time in the world. He always wordlessly joins him when Mike needs to run errands because he knows otherwise Mike will get bored and distracted and forget what he was doing. He’s saved Mike’s life on more than one occasion, but especially that time when he’d tapped into his- mindhive-control powers for the first time, that was- wow. Mike stores that thought away to be unpacked on its own some other time. And Will reads over his essays and stories to point out any spelling mistakes or plotholes. And Mike likes the way Will’s hair falls across his forehead, and the way his eyes shine when he smiles because of something stupid Mike has said, and when he smiles, kind of crooked, Mike wants to press his finger to the corner of his mouth. And he’s just so beautiful, and Mike’s- 

Mike’s in love with him. 

Holy shit. 

Mike is in love with Will. 

He feels entirely overwhelmed. His heart is hammering in his throat. He had prepared himself to come to terms with liking Will, sure, but realizing he was in love with him made his head spin. 

He turns back over onto his back and lets out a long breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. He twists the sheets into his hands, just to hold onto something. His head is reeling. He feels untethered, like he might sink through his mattress and get absorbed by the shadows underneath his bed.  

On the other side of the room, he hears Will shift in his own bed, the sound of the moving sheets loud in Mike’s ears. He doesn’t dare to turn his head to face Will, afraid he’ll find him already looking at Mike with his neverending gaze. Scared he might blurt out the truth he just learned because he can never keep a secret from Will for very long. And does it mean anything, that Will is always staring back at him? El had told him that Will always has a softer expression reserved just for him, but Mike had dismissed it, thinking it was just because they know each other so well. But maybe she was onto something. Thinking back on it, El had been trying very hard to get him and Will back on speaking terms, after she and Mike broke up. Did she know something that he didn’t? Or is it just Mike’s wishful brain, hoping to find a connection where there is none. He keeps his wide eyes on the ceiling. 

Just be normal he orders himself. It’s not like this changes anything… right? Tomorrow, he will pretend to love Will a normal, friend-like amount. Because that is the most important thing. They worked so hard to get back to what they had always been, best friends, and Mike has to keep it that way. He can’t lose Will again, not over this. 

-------------------------------

Mike supposes he must have fallen asleep at some point because he wakes up the next morning to the sun beaming down on him through the window. He looks to his side to see Will already up and dressed, sitting crosslegged on his bed with his sketchbook balanced on a pillow in his lap. He looks focussed, a little wrinkle between his brows as his pencil moves across the paper. Mike’s revelation from last night comes rushing back into his mind, and he feels his face go red at the sight of his best friend. 

Be normal. 

He tears his gaze away with some difficulty. 

One glance at his alarm clock shows that it’s actually not morning at all. 

“Fuck, why didn’t you wake me up?” Mike asks while he tries to untwist his legs from the sheets, but his wriggling only manages to get him more stuck. 

“You looked like you needed the rest.” Will answers, not looking up from his paper. He bites his lip in concentration, and Mike promptly falls off the bed. 

So much for acting normal. 

“What are you drawing?” he asks while trying to free his arm from his blanket cocoon. There, a normal question. 

“You.” and a normal answer- wait. What. 

“Uh,” he begins intelligently. How is he supposed to react normally to this? Is this something best friends commonly do, draw each other while they’re sleeping? He doesn’t think so, and he feels a bit justified when he asks, “Why?”

“I’m supposed to do more life drawing for my figure painting class. And you were lying still, for once, so yeah. Thought I’d use the opportunity.” Mike supposes that’s a pretty reasonable explanation for the situation. 

Will finally looks up, or, well, down at Mike, who is still sitting on the floor. He seems to have finished his drawing because he carefully closes his sketchbook and places it to the side. 

“Can I see it?” Mike asks. He’s finally freed himself from the confines of his sheets and moves across the room to sit down on the bed next to Will. 

“Um, it’s not very good.” he replies, hesitantly. He sounds unsure of himself, and Mike can’t have that happen. He needs Will to understand what an amazing artist he is, and if he can’t see that himself, Mike will show him a million times over. 

“I’m sure that’s not true!” he grabs the sketchbook from behind him and hands it to Will. “Here, show me what you did.”

Will’s hands tremble minutely when he takes the book from Mike. He must be really unsure of his work if it’s making him physically anxious. Even more reason for Mike to reassure him that he’s incredible. 

Will tentatively opens his sketchbook and starts flipping through the pages quickly to get to the last drawing he made. The sound of fluttering paper fills the room. But even with the pages flickering past his vision rapidly, Mike can see it. 

Dozens and dozens of drawings and sketches of- him.

The whole book is filled up with sketches of Mike. 

And he doesn’t see them very well, but he can still clearly recognize himself. Because Will truly is an amazing artist, being able to capture Mike’s likeness in just a few pencil strokes. 

And he clearly didn’t want Mike to see this. 

The ear on the side of Will’s face that Mike can see is turning slightly pink, which is distracting in its own right, as Will quickly finds the page he’d been working on this morning. 

“Um, yeah, so- here.” he shows Mike the page, clutching the sides of the sketchbook so hard his knuckles are turning white. 

Mike tears his eyes away from the blush now covering the majority of Will’s face and looks down at the drawing. 

It’s- beautiful. Which is not a word Mike would use to describe himself, but it’s the way Will makes him look. He looks at his own face, sleeping peacefully, like he hadn’t just had an earthshattering realization mere hours before. 

And this- this is not normal right? Friends can stare at each other and touch each other casually, but friends don’t typically have whole sketchbooks dedicated to drawings of each other. Right? Mike isn’t sure what’s normal anymore. He hasn’t felt normal in a long time. And Will feels obviously insecure about this whole thing, the way his hands are still grasping the sides of the sketchbook like it might fly away from him. And if there was ever anything that Mike was good at, it was reassuring Will. So he tries to react in the most normal way he can. 

“Wow, this is very, um, cool,” he blurts. Well done, idiot he thinks to himself. I’m sure Will feels super reassured right now. Good job on not making it weird. 

One glance at his friend’s face shows that the color there has only gotten deeper and his eyes are flitting around the room, looking anywhere but at Mike. 

He needs to save this. 

“I mean, I think it’s cool that you drew me!” great save, Wheeler. “And what are you saying, it’s not very good? It’s amazing!” he looks at Will again who has his eyes fixed on the window now, looking like he might consider jumping out of it. 

Mike decides to take a risk. 

“They’re all amazing.”

Will’s eyes shoot back to Mike, very wide and a little scared.  

“You think so?” it’s been a while since Mike has heard him sound so timid. 

“Sure, I- yeah,” he trails off, distracted by the way the green in Will's eyes is contrasted by the red that is still visible on his cheeks. Mike wants to trace the outline of the color with his fingers. Or his lips. Maybe both. 

“You don’t think it’s weird?” Will has always been braver than Mike, and him asking that question outright is one example of it. Mike isn’t sure if he means the drawing from this morning or the numerous other ones that he hadn’t told Mike about, but Mike guesses it’s a fair question either way. He’s just not sure why Will would think Mike would be freaked out by it, but he also hasn’t told Will that he has about thirty unfinished short stories, outlines, and of course letters lying deep within the recesses of his desk drawers that all feature Will in some way. 

He’s sure he will tell him at some point. 

Like he said, Will has always been the brave one of the two of them.

And right now Mike really needs to answer his question before Will takes his silence as admittance. 

“No. Well, maybe it’s a little weird. But not in a bad way! Just- you know. I guess I’m just surprised that you would still want to draw me so many times. Surely I must look super boring to you now.” 

Will seems to have gained some of his confidence back after Mike’s rambling. His face is going back to its usual tone and he looks back into Mike’s eyes when he speaks quietly.

“You never look boring to me.”

The words are nothing too special, but the way Will says them, like he truly believes that Mike is the most interesting person that has ever walked the face of the earth, is what gets to Mike. No one has ever made him feel as important as Will always does. 

“Oh, thanks,” Mike replies, at a loss of what else to say. He looks down, fiddling with a loose thread on Will’s bedsheets, pulling it free from the blanket and twisting it around his finger.  

He wants to respond in kind, show Will how much he really means to him as well. He considers running over to his desk to pull out all of the papers that bear Will’s name and shove them into his hands to read. 

But he’s too afraid. Because what if Will hadn’t meant anything by sketching Mike? Maybe he just did it because they share a room and he is the easiest subject he can find. And maybe he was only scared of Mike’s reaction because it’s objectively a little weird, right? But maybe this is normal for him, maybe he has other sketchbooks filled with pictures of other people. The thought makes him unnecessarily upset. He doesn’t want to think about Will looking at other people the way he looks at Mike. 

He’s not spiraling. 

The thread snaps in his fingers. 

Okay, maybe he’s spiraling a little. 

He needs to get a grip. 

His eyes search around the room for something to latch onto, but, like some sort of magnetic force, they gravitate back towards Will’s again. 

He shuffles slightly and their knees touch. A shiver runs all the way up Mike’s body at the contact, reminding him that he is still in his sleep shorts and an old T-shirt. He rubs his cold arms with his equally cold hands. Achieving nothing in the process. 

“You should get dressed,” Will suggests, helpfully. Then he jabs Mike’s side with his finger, making him yelp and squirm away from him. “Maybe then you can finally finish your essay.”

-------------------------------

It’s nearing three ‘o clock when Mike is finally dressed, fed, and sat at his desk. He wanted to finish his stupid essay yesterday, but after they got back from their almost kiss in the fifth floor window, it’s safe to say Mike was a little distracted. Not that he was focussed before, but he’ll take an excuse where he can find one. Although he doubts his lecturer would accept that as a valid excuse for his abysmal work. Sorry, I couldn’t finish the essay because I was too busy thinking about kissing my best friend. Yeah, he doesn’t think that would go over very well. 

He actually manages to focus on his writing this afternoon. Maybe the impending deadline of tomorrow helps him along, but he finds himself just enjoying the writing process for the first time that weekend. By the time it’s getting dark he’s made some pretty decent progress. 

He decides it’s time for a break when his stomach starts to grumble. He spins around in his desk chair and gets up, stretching as he goes. Some of his bones pop back into place. 

Will looks up from where he is writing something at his own desk.

“Dinnertime?” he asks. Mike nods. “Do you want me to read your essay?” 

It’s kind of scary how it sometimes seems like Will can read his mind. 

They head towards the communal dining hall. The food isn’t great, but it keeps them alive, which is what matters. 

They eat mostly in silence while Will reads Mike’s essay, scribbling some notes on a separate piece of paper and sometimes mumbling under his breath (“‘necessary’ has two s’s, Mike”). Even though they are in a very busy area and lots of people are milling about them, it feels strangely domestic. Mike could get used to this, eating dinner with Will. Well, he already does that every day. And breakfast. And lunch. Because even after all these years they do everything together. But Mike means he could get used to this, forever. He wants to share every meal with him, every mundane moment that will make up the rest of their lives. He wants to sit at his desk, writing, knowing that Will is only one namecall away. He wants to wake up every morning and see Will’s face as the sun rises. 

Suddenly, he’s struck with a fear that this will all end after they graduate from college. That he will lose this domestic life he’s built up with Will over the time that they’ve been here. That Will will want to leave Mike behind to pursue his big artist dreams. 

Mike shovels a forkful of potato into his mouth to distract him from this bleak image of the future. 

It doesn’t work, because the next thing he knows he blurts out, “We should live together.”

Wow. Not what he had meant to say. In fact, he hadn’t meant to say anything at all. His treacherous lack of brain-to-mouth filter betrays him once again.

Will looks up at him and lifts his eyebrows. “Mike, we already live together.” he sounds a little concerned for Mike’s mental well-being.

“No, I know, just- I meant, we should live together after college. You know, find a place together, or something. To, uh, save money,” he’s not sure where he is going with this, but his mouth is off on its own track and so he keeps talking. “I’ve heard it’s really hard to find a place for a reasonable price these days,” (not true, he has never even thought about this) “so it might be easier if we find something together, you know,” (he really doesn’t know) “if you want.”    

Mike’s mouth finally stops moving and he immediately shoves more potatoes into it to keep it shut for a while. 

Will looks a bit surprised, like he hadn’t expected the question. Which is fair, because neither had Mike. 

Finally, Will’s eyebrows lower back down and his concerned expression gets replaced by a small smile. 

“Sure. We can go live together somewhere after college. To save money.”

When Will says it like that, it sounds even more like a dumb excuse to Mike.

But Will does sound genuine when he says it, like he actually wouldn’t mind it at all. And he’s still smiling at Mike, so Mike counts it as a win. 

-------------------------------

They finish eating their dinner and walk back to their dorm. Mike takes the notes that Will has written him and sits back down at his desk, determined to finish the essay in the next few hours so he can go to bed at a more reasonable time tonight so he won’t sleep through his 9 a.m. lecture the next morning.   

He does surprisingly manage to be focussed the whole evening and even finishes his essay before midnight, which is a rarity for him. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he doesn’t feel scrutinized by Will, who is currently working on his own deadline for next week. And unlike Mike, he has the ability to work ahead instead of finishing everything the night before. 

Even though he’s finished with his work and even pretty happy with the result, he doesn’t feel like going to bed yet. It’s only half past eleven anyway, so he’s not very tired yet. But also, he doesn’t really feel like doing anymore reading or writing. He’s afraid the next word he looks at is going to get seared into his eyeballs and it’ll be the last thing he sees. Which would be unfortunate. 

He looks over at Will, really just wanting to talk to him. But he is still studying with a very focussed expression, flipping back and forth between two pages in his art history book. He has his head propped up on his hand, and a small frown is visible between his eyebrows. Mike sees the moment the confusion gets cleared up, because the frown disappears and Will’s eyes light up in recognition. He lets go of the page and scribbles something down in the notebook he has open next to his textbook. Mike loves it when Will gets that expression. It used to happen all the time when he was talking to Mike. Whenever they would discuss a new campaign, or Mike would ask Will for help with his biology homework, or they would read a comic together, or really, anytime they would hang out together, Will’s face would light up like the literal sun and Mike would be blinded by his brightness. 

It stopped happening, for a while. He hadn’t noticed at the time, because he was too busy being an idiot, but Will had stopped smiling like he had to personally light up the entire town. It makes him sad to think about it, that he was part of the reason why Will was so unhappy. So Mike was very glad to see him return to his usual radiance. Especially when he was talking to Mike. He always wants to be the reason that Will looks that happy. He thinks he’d be able to do that. Will always laughs at the stupid things he says, and Mike has a lot of stupid things to say. That’s basically a perfect combination. 

Will’s eyes are still shining, seeming even brighter in the orange glow of his desklamp. His mouth curves up into a smile, and Mike feels something flutter in his stomach. He wants to press Will’s smile against his own, to know if it feels as soft as it looks. When his eyes travel back up to Will’s, he realises that they’re looking right at him. 

He startles, the sudden eye contact shaking him out of his daydream and he wants to look away, but he finds that he can’t. His eyes stay glued to Will’s. 

“Finished?” Will asks, still smiling. He closes his textbook and turns to face Mike fully. 

It takes Mike a second to answer. “Yes, finally.” he manages. 

“Well done!” Will’s eyes become impossibly brighter. “I knew you could do it. I’m done for the night as well, are you going to do some more reading tonight?”

Usually, when they’re both done with their homework but not ready to go to sleep yet, they both sit on their separate beds and read. Mike realizes this is very boring old man behavior of them, but sometimes it’s just nice to relax and turn off your brain for a bit, okay? Mike’s currently on his third reread of The Two Towers. But tonight he doesn’t think he’s up for it. 

“If I read one more word I think I’m gonna explode.” 

“Hm, that would be impractical. How about I read to you then?”

They’ve never done that before. 

“Uh, sure.” Mike replies, never able to deny Will anything. 

They both get ready for bed, and Mike tucks himself into his sheets. He watches Will come out of the bathroom dressed in his sleep shirt and shorts, wearing mismatching socks of different lengths. He walks over to his nightstand to pick up the book he was reading and Mike expects him to sit down on his own bed like usual. Instead, he turns around and walks the short distance to Mike’s bed, hopping onto it.

“Could you move over a bit? You’re taking up too much space.” Mike doesn’t point out that it is in fact his bed and he can take up as much space as he wants, but instead scoots over closer to the wall to make more room for Will to sit next to him. Will in turn lifts up the covers so he can shuffle under them, letting in some cold air and making goosebumps rise on his skin. They don’t disappear as Will drops the cover over both of them, because Will immediately shoves his socked feet against Mike’s legs. Somehow, even through the fabric, he can feel how cold they are. 

Mike is now hyper aware of all the places they’re touching. The bed is just about large enough for Mike and his long limbs, but with the two of them cramped together there really isn’t any space around them left. Will’s arm presses up against Mike’s, and he has his cold feet tucked underneath Mike’s calves. Even though he is just sitting next to him, Mike feels as though he is entirely surrounded by Will. 

Not that he minds, though. 

Will starts reading. He is already about three quarters of the way into his book, and Mike has no idea what it’s about. He hears something about some sort of space council, but he’s not really paying attention to the story. Will has a really nice voice. It’s very steady, and calming, and Mike wants him to keep reading forever, even if he is not listening to the words. 

He glances over at Will. He’s holding the book open in one hand, which is quite impressive because it’s pretty massive. His other arm disappears underneath the sheets. Which means his hand is also there. Probably right next to Mike’s. He feels his ears grow warm at the thought of their hands laying so close together. Did Will do that on purpose? Maybe he was just cold and wanted to warm up his hand. But maybe, Mike needs to be brave for once. He could always play if off as an accident. 

He slowly inches his hand to the right. His heart is speeding up in his chest. He knows Will’s hand is near, he can feel the heat radiating off it. He carefully extends his pinky out, until it touches Will’s. It sends sparks all the way up his arm. He stops breathing. 

Will keeps reading, his voice steady. Mike doesn’t hear a word he’s saying, his blood rushing in his ears. 

Should he move away? It’s been too long to have been an accident by now, but-

Will’s own little finger moves up to rest on top of Mike’s. 

That has to be intentional. Right?

He dares to look at Will’s face again, finding that he's now smiling slightly with his eyes still fixed on the words. 

Okay, definitely intentional. But what does Mike do with this? Does Will know that he likes him? He barely found out yesterday himself! But Will always had a way of reading his mind. But, does that mean that Will wants this too? Or is he just humoring Mike? No, he wouldn’t do that. 

Mike is freaking out. Just a little bit. 

He gets dragged back down to earth by the feeling of Will’s pinky rubbing lightly over his own. 

Okay, this is fine. 

He needs to calm down. He needs to stop freaking out about this and just relax. Which is easier said than done, with his red face and his heart going at a hundred miles an hour. 

Eventually, though, he starts to unwind a little, sinking further into the pillow propped up behind him. He’s starting to feel a little drowsy, Will’s soft voice washing over him. He moves his hand just a little closer, so that more of his hand gets covered by Will’s, every point of contact setting off little jolts of lightning in his skin. 

And it feels- 

It feels really nice. 

It feels really nice. 

He wouldn’t mind going to bed like this every day. 

He can feel himself drifting off, Will’s steady cadence and the warmth of his body pressed against him lulling him to sleep. 

-------------------------------

When he wakes up, it must still be the middle of the night with how dark it is. Will must have turned off the light at some point. But apparently, he hadn’t moved back to his own bed after he’d stopped reading. Because Mike’s head is resting on his shoulder. He can feel the soft fabric of his shirt against his cheek, and the warmth of his skin underneath that. A little wiggle of his fingers confirmes that his hand is also still covered by Will’s. 

Will’s breathing is even and deep, telling Mike that he’s asleep. 

Did he mean to fall asleep in Mike’s bed? He had turned off the light after all. Honestly, Mike doesn't really care. He is very comfortable right now, with Will’s head resting against his own and feeling his shoulders rise slightly with every breath he takes. He’s too tired to freak out about it too, which is nice. He nuzzles his face further into the crook of Will’s neck and closes his eyes again. 

The next time he wakes up, it’s to the sound of his alarm clock going off. Which is a much less pleasant experience. 

He grumbles and feels around for the off button, finally finding it and shutting off the horrible shrieking noise. 

Blearily, he opens his eyes to look at the time. The numbers 08:01 are blinking back at him. Right. His 9 a.m. lecture that he spent his whole weekend writing an essay for. That’s today. The person who invented 9 a.m. lectures should be put in jail.  

As his brain starts waking up, the events from the previous night start to come back to him. He remembers waking up in the middle of the night asleep on top of Will, but sometime during the night he must have moved because he is not there anymore. Sadly. 

He looks around the room, trying to locate his friend, but he doesn’t appear to be in the room. A bit strange, but Mike decides not to dwell on it. He knows if he does, he’s going to start spiraling again, and he needs his mind intact if he’s going to survive this lecture. 

He gets up and dressed, and as he's trying to gently shove his essay into his backpack so he doesn’t immediately crumple it, the door opens and Will walks in. 

He’s wearing his puffy coat and a bobble hat. Some tufts of hair are sticking out from underneath it. His cheeks are red from the cold. He looks adorable. 

“Where did you go?” Mike asks, trying not to sound too accusatory.  

“Just on a walk.” Will replies, unzipping his coat. 

“At eight in the morning?” he lifts an eyebrow. “Why are you even up this early? You don’t have any lectures today.” he says it before he really thinks about it. He looks at Will’s face and sees the redness spreading there, but that could also still be from the cold. He quickly continues to save Will the awkwardness of having to reply something about waking up to Mike draped over him. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. As long as you didn’t get breakfast without me.” 

“I would never!” 

They head out to get breakfast together and after speedily spooning some tasteless, soggy cereal into his mouth, Mike is off to his lecture. 

He hands in his essay at the beginning of class, and after fishing it out of his bag he’s pretty proud to see that it only managed to acquire one folded corner on the journey to class.

He succeeds in concentrating on the lecture for about half an hour. Another insignificant accomplishment he can applaud himself for. After that, his mind starts wandering back to last night. Again. He can still feel the ghost of Will’s hand on top of his own. 

And- what are they doing? Surely, surely that is what Will wanted to happen. Mike knows he’s not always the brightest when it comes to reading the room, but with all the staring and the sitting just a bit too close to each other and the sleeping on top of each other, surely that means Will likes him back, right? He’s given him just about every single clue possible and left Mike to figure out what it means. Now it’s Mike’s turn to do something about it. 

Sighing, he drops his face in his hands, digging his palms into his eyes. 

He can do this. 

He lifts his head back up and attempts to focus on his professor again, who is droning on about syntax or whatever. 

He can be brave. 

-------------------------------

After he returns from class he trudges up the stairs to the dorm and opens the door heavily. It falls shut behind him as he drops his backpack and collapses face first onto his mattress. 

He truly hates 9 a.m. lectures. Especially the ones that continue for three hours without a break and cover the single most boring subject in the world. 

“That bad?” he hears Will ask from across the room. 

“Hmmf,” Mike responds from within the depths of his pillow. He sits up and turns to face Will properly. “I don’t know how they managed to find the most boring person to ever exist to teach the most boring subject ever, but-” he starts, but his train of thought instantly derails and plummets down a cliff when his eyes fall on Will. 

He’s sitting crosslegged on his bed again, this time with his art history book open in his lap. He’s holding an uncapped highlighter that’s hovering inches above the page, having clearly been interrupted from his studying by Mike’s dramatic entrance. 

And he’s wearing Mike’s sweater. 

A soft, green knitted one that Mike has owned for years. The ends of the sleeves, just a bit too long on Will, reach to about his knuckles. 

And he’s looking at Mike with wide, innocent eyes, as if he doesn’t know exactly what the sight of Will wearing his clothes does to him. 

Maybe he doesn’t. But Mike suspects that maybe he does. 

Will seems to notice the cause of Mike’s mental trainwreck and pulls his sleeves further over his hands as he speaks. “Sorry, I was cold. All my sweaters are in the wash, and I thought you wouldn’t mind.” 

Again, a perfectly logical explanation for the situation. But Mike is onto him now. And two can play at that game. 

“That’s fine. This one suits you better anyway. It makes your eyes look all- green and stuff.”

Okay, maybe he’s a little rusty. But somehow, it has the desired effect as he can see Will’s ears turning a little pink. 

“Thank you,” Will replies, averting his eyes.

The loss of eye contact makes Mike feel like he can breathe again. 

The sweater really does look better on Will, but then again, he would gift him his entire wardrobe and just walk around in old rags if it meant seeing Will in his clothes every day. 

His brain seems to have recovered a bit, and he remembers something. 

“Oh, I brought lunch!” he crawls over his bed to where he had dropped his backpack earlier, unzipping it and taking out a brown paper bag. 

Will gasps, shutting his textbook and tossing it to the side. “Did you-?” he eagerly accepts the bag when Mike offers it to him, reaching inside and taking out two blueberry muffins. “These are from the place I like! I haven’t had them in ages, thank you, Mike.” Will beams up at him, and Mike pretends not to evaporate on the spot at the sight. Instead, he kicks off his shoes and pulls his legs up so he’s sitting crosslegged across from Will. 

Okay. This feels normal. They’ve done this a million times before. He can do this. 

They eat their muffins while Mike talks about his dreadful morning class. It’s nice. Familiar. Comfortable. As they finish and throw their wrappers in the bin, Will asks, “Can you help me study? The exam is on Friday and I really need to get a good grade, but there is this timeline I need to learn that I keep messing up.” Mike, now free of essay deadlines for a while, agrees, taking the flashcards that Will hands him. 

Will, unsurprisingly, already knows the answer to pretty much every question Mike asks him. But he still breaks out into a smile every time Mike tells him he’s correct, so Mike doesn’t mind that he’s basically doing a redundant job here. 

They spend a couple of hours doing that before they head back down to the dining hall.  

Dinner is pretty bland, as usual. 

“What texture is this even supposed to be?” Mike asks, his face pulled into a grimace as he lets the suspiciously watery substance that was labeled ‘mashed potatoes’ drop from his spoon back onto his plate, where it lands with an audible splash noise. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. 

“I think this stuff might be radioactive.” Will answers, stirring his own mashed potato soup together with his broccoli stems, creating an even more unappealing, lumpy green sludge.

Mike laughs and takes a daring bite. Miraculously, it doesn’t taste nearly as bad as it looks and they make it through dinner without getting poisoned. 

When they come back to their dorm, Will wants to do some more studying, and Mike decides to start early, for a change, on some of his additional reading due for Thursday. 

The hours tick by far too quickly, and before Mike is aware of it, his alarm clock is telling him that it’s ten past twelve already. Neither he nor Will have any classes tomorrow, but he can only put off going to bed for so long. 

He starts to panic. 

Because what’s going to happen? Yesterday, they had shared Mike’s bed, even if it was by accident, and although he had slept very well and he’d been very comfortable and he’d love to do it again every night for the rest of his life, it doesn’t mean that Will feels the same. But should he still offer? Does Will expect him to?

He’s considering all of this while brushing his teeth, looking at his anxious reflection in the mirror above the sink. 

When he’s done rinsing his mouth, he takes a second to just breathe. 

Relax, okay. Be brave. 

He steps out of the bathroom to find the room already cast in darkness. His eyes take a second to adjust. Will is already in his own bed, eyes closed. Either asleep or pretending to be. 

Alright, fine. That’s- fine. That means he doesn’t have to ask Will a potentially horribly awkward question. It’s clear that Will does not want to repeat yesterday’s situation. Which is fine. Good. Normal. 

He stumbles his way through the dark into his own bed and shuts his eyes, hoping sleep will somehow come to him. 

His brain, however, has other plans. It keeps replaying the moment he woke up last night. How he could feel Will’s hair tickling his cheek from where he was laying on top of him. How he had pressed his nose into the crook of Will’s neck. How their fingers were pressed together, nearly intertwined. He subconsciously flexes his fingers, but only the feeling of his cold sheets reaches back. 

Now that he’s had it once, he needs more of it. 

He craves it with an overwhelming force that surprises even himself. His skin tingles with the absence of Will’s touch. 

He wraps his arms around himself. It’s not enough. 

But Will has made it quite evident that he does not want a repeat of yesterday. 

Unless… he’s afraid that Mike wouldn’t want that. Which is ridiculous. But it is possible. 

As he’s considering his chances, he hears the sound of Will rolling over in his bed on the other side of the room. 

Then it’s quiet again.

Mike starts counting his breaths. Maybe that will make him fall asleep quicker. 

It doesn’t work, and he gets bored after number twenty-six. 

More rustling sounds from Will. 

Mike turns onto his side. He can barely make out the dark shape of Will. Even though he is only lying a few feet away, it feels like Will is miles out of his reach. 

He turns back around and stares at the ceiling for a long while. 

He considers shoving his face into his pillow until he passes out from a lack of oxygen. 

Then- 

“Mike?”

It’s obvious from the sound of his voice that Will has also not been asleep yet. 

“Yes?” 

Silence. Will stays quiet for so long that Mike thinks maybe he’s fallen asleep after all. After a long moment though, he continues. 

“I’m cold.” his voice is very quiet in the dark of the room, but Mike hears him as if he was speaking directly into his ear. It takes him a second to realize what Will means with his statement. It’s an invitation. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He throws off his blankets and in two quick strides he’s by Will’s side. 

He hesitates there, not sure if he should get on top or underneath the sheets. Will makes the decision for him when he lifts the covers.

Mike crawls in. 

He lays on his side facing Will. Will immediately takes the opportunity to push his feet against Mike’s legs and he tries not to flinch at how cold they are. Will lets out a sigh of relief. Jeez. He was not lying about being cold. 

In this position, Mike’s arms are laying uselessly between them. He lifts one of his arms up, not entirely sure what he plans to do with it. Is it okay if he touches Will? Surely if he’s feeling cold, touching him would help. Eventually he decides to carefully place his hand on Will’s back, gently pulling him towards himself. Their legs tangle together. 

Their faces are just inches apart, like this. They are sharing Will’s pillow, and it feels entirely too intimate. 

Will lets out another small sigh, his breath hitting the side of Mike’s neck. He shudders, pressing his fingers into the skin of Will’s back. 

Will tilts his head backwards a little bit so he can look up at Mike. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just- the cold, it- I don’t like it.”

“I know. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe.”

Mike starts gently moving his hand up and down Will’s shoulder, slowly warming him up.

Will makes a pleased little humming noise, his own hand that he was holding against his chest coming up to rest against the side of Mike’s neck, his thumb brushing against the underside of his jaw.  

Mike’s breath catches in his throat.

He can’t see much of Will’s face in the darkness, but he’s traced the shape of his face with his eyes so many times, he thinks he could recognize him blindly. 

He suddenly gets hit with the overwhelming urge to touch Will’s face. He aches for it. To feel his smile against his fingertips, to feel the flutter of his eyelashes, to brush his fingers over the warmth of his cheeks. 

He wants it. So much.  

But he’s afraid. Afraid that this has all been some great misunderstanding on Mike's part. Afraid of what will happen if Will doesn’t want Mike to touch him. Which is kind of ridiculous because Will is literally touching him right now, his fingers pressing ever so slightly firmer against Mike’s neck. But, if he touches Will, that would make this all real, palpable, and he’d have to face the reality of who he is. And that’s what scares him most. 

But Will’s thumb starts stroking softly over his jawbone, making him shiver. The movement is soothing, as if Will can read the whirlwind of thoughts going through his mind. Knowing Will, he probably can, somehow. It makes Mike feel grounded. He’s not alone, Will is right there with him. Whatever he is going through, he will have Will by his side.

Without his permission, the hand that was on Will’s shoulder has traveled upwards and his fingers are now hovering a hair’s breadth away from the corner of Will’s mouth. He can feel the heat radiating off Will’s skin on his fingertips. His hand is trembling slightly with the need to touch. 

He feels like he’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to fall. 

He hears Will take an unsteady breath. 

“You can touch me,” Will’s voice is barely above a whisper. "If you want.”

And fuck, does Mike want. 

It’s all the permission he needs before he finally allows his shaking fingers to make contact with Will’s skin. He trails his fingers up his cheekbone and across the bridge of his nose. He revels in the way Will’s eyelids flutter closed under his careful touch. His skin is soft, and warm, and his breathing is slightly uneven, making Mike hopeful that this is affecting Will as much as it does him. 

It’s all too much and yet not enough. 

He lightly presses his finger into the corner of his mouth. 

Every point of contact feels electrifying. 

A shaky breath escapes Mike’s lips. His heart is racing in his chest. He feels out of breath, as if he’s just run up every flight of stairs in the building. 

He drags his thumb over the soft swell of Will’s bottom lip, resting his palm along Will’s jaw. Will inhales sharply. 

“Mike. Tell me what you want.”

There aren’t enough words in the world to express what Mike wants. 

“You,” he breathes out, desperate. “I just- I want- can I kiss you?” 

Instead of replying, Will slides his hand up from Mike’s neck to the back of his head, his fingers tangling in his hair. He tugs him closer until Mike can feel Will’s breath against his mouth. 

He pauses there. Leaving Mike to take the final step. 

This is it. He parts his lips, feeling Will’s breath intermingle with his own. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted anything as much as he needs this. 

He props himself up slightly on his elbow so his face is hovering over Will’s. This close, he can just make out Will’s eyes in the darkness. Their eyes meet for a moment. 

The silence is suffocating. 

Will lowers his gaze down to his lips and it stays there. 

Mike can’t take it any longer and finally, finally closes the remaining space between them to press his lips against Will’s. And it’s- it’s everything. It’s soft, and sweet, and warm, and his lips are a little dry, but they move against Mike’s as they settle into a rhythm. It feels like coming home after getting caught in a rainstorm and it’s so quintessentially Will that Mike feels like he’s going to explode.  

He slides his hand up from where it was cupping Will’s cheek into his hair. Will makes a needy little sound in the back of his throat and tugs Mike closer with a hand on his waist, making him lose his balance and nearly crash down on top of Will. He quickly rolls over to catch himself, slotting a knee between Will’s so he doesn’t crush him. 

Their lips disconnect at the movement and Mike lifts himself up over Will with his hands placed on the mattress either side of Will’s face. Looking down, he can see Will’s eyes. 

His pupils are dilated, his breaths labored. He’s never been more attractive. And he looks about as desperate as Mike feels. 

Mike doesn’t hesitate the second time. He surges down to capture Will’s lips with his own, at the same time as he feels Will’s arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. 

It feels different, this time. More urgently. Mike feels one of Will’s hands move back up to his hair, giving it an experimental tug. It releases a sound out of Mike that he wasn’t even aware he was capable of making. Will swallows the noise, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. 

Now that he has permission, he wants to touch Will as much as he can, but, balanced like this, he can’t do that. So he leans back a little to grab Will’s shoulders and roll them over so Will is now on top of him. The sheets get tangled in their feet. Will makes a frustrated noise and kicks the blankets off the bed.

Will doesn’t seem to have the same concerns as Mike about crushing him and with his legs on either side of Mike’s he lowers himself down so they are laying flush together. Mike’s sure Will can feel his heart hammering in the proximity.

Their lips slot together again and this way, Mike’s hands are free to roam across Will’s body. He places one hand on Will’s side, feeling the bare skin from where his shirt has ridden up. His skin thrums at the contact. He places his other hand on the back of Will’s neck, sliding his hand upwards into his hair and tugging on it lightly. Will gasps into his mouth and Mike takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue across Will’s bottom lip. Will’s mouth immediately falls open, allowing him in. He digs his fingers a little harder into the skin of Will’s side.  

It’s warm, and wet, and all too real. Mike can’t quite wrap his head around that he gets to have this, to take what he wants from Will, and have Will want it equally as much. 

Mike is sure Will has never kissed anyone before, but he’s a quick learner, eagerly mirroring Mike’s movements and sliding their tongues together. 

It’s everything Mike has ever wanted, even if he didn’t know it. He feels whole in this moment, like a puzzle that just got completed after waiting years for the missing piece. And it’s kind of crazy, that they’re only doing this now. They could have been doing this years ago, if Mike had been braver. 

But he also would have waited forever for this. To feel Will’s body against his own. To know what his lips taste like. To hear the sound he makes when Mike moves his hand up to the underside of his ribs. 

They finally break apart for air, but don't move too far away from each other, both of them breathing heavily. Will is looking at him with wide eyes, like he almost doesn’t believe what’s just happened. 

Mike, wanting to give him proof that this is real, takes his face in his hands and brings him forward to kiss him again, this time more slowly. He can feel Will melt on top of him. 

He smiles, unable to contain his happiness, and he feels Will mirror his expression, until they are just smiling against each other.  

Will huffs out a small laugh and drops his head to Mike’s collarbone. Mike cards his hand through Will’s hair, the soft strands slipping through his fingers. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Will says quietly, his voice sounding a little hoarse.  

“How long?” Mike asks, still feeling a little dazed. 

Will looks back up at him, crossing his arms over Mike’s chest and resting his chin on top of them. “I think we were twelve, or maybe thirteen. I remember we were out in the woods, for some reason, and there was this noise that startled me, and then you held my hand so I wouldn’t be scared. That’s when I knew that I wanted to kiss you.” 

Mike’s brain freezes, his mouth falling open. “Thirteen?!” he croaks out, incredulously. “Holy shit. I had no idea.” 

Will breathes another laugh. “No, I know. You’re kind of oblivious.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad.”

Mike feels the skeptical look Will sends him more than he sees it. “Mike, I’ve been trying to get you to kiss me for months now.”  

“Yes, and I did it, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did. Took you long enough though.” 

They’re both smiling stupidly.

Will rolls off of Mike, suppressing a shiver. Mike notices anyway and without Will’s warmth on top of him he’s struck by the chill of the room. He reaches over to retrieve the discarded sheets from the floor, draping them over their bodies. He turns to face Will, who wastes no time grabbing his waist and pulling him closer, their feet tangling together. Mike’s hands settle against Will’s chest. 

“You knew that I liked you, then.” Mike asks, although the way he says it sounds more like a statement. 

“I guess I figured, yeah. Although I still found it hard to believe that you could like me, after wanting that for so many years. I thought maybe I was just seeing things. Which is why I tried to give you subtle hints. But then I realized you don’t really do subtle.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that your staring meant that you liked me, maybe I just had something on my face the whole time!” Mike protests, indignant. But it hadn’t just been the staring, had it? It was also the drawing, and the touching, and the falling asleep in the same bed, and- 

Okay, now that he thinks about it like that, it does seem really obvious. 

“Oh. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” 

Will laughs. “It’s fine, next time I’ll just hold a big sign that says ‘kiss me’ on it. Would that be clear enough for you?” 

Mike lets out an embarrassed laugh, burying his face in his hands. “Shut up.” he mumbles, but the words have no bite to them. Will takes his wrists and pulls his hands away from his face, kissing his forehead. Mike feels heat rise to his cheeks, not used to the intimacy. 

“What about you, when did you know?”

“That I- liked you?” saying it out loud feels surreal, like he’s sharing a secret he’s not supposed to.   

“Yeah.”

He thinks about it for a second. He feels his face grow warmer at the memory. “I guess it was… that moment you saved me from the demogorgon. When you stopped it from killing me with your sorcerer powers and you snapped all its bones with your mind.”

Will looks at him, surprised. “Really?”

Mike stares back at him. “Yeah, Will, that was- that was really fucking hot.”

Will flops onto his back. He puts his hands over his eyes, letting out a groan. “Mike, that was four years ago,” he comes back up to face Mike. “We could have been doing this for four years!”

Mike grins, tugging Will close again. “Well, we’d better make up for lost time then.”

-------------------------------

When Mike wakes up the next morning, it’s to Will’s fingers pushing his hair out of his face, his other arm a steady weight around his middle. He’s warm and comfortable and everything around him smells like Will. 

He blinks his eyes open slowly. Will is already looking at him, eyes soft. His hair is tousled from sleep, and his cheeks are slightly pink, and his collar is askew, exposing part of his shoulder, and he is- he is beautiful. 

“Good morning,” Will smiles. Mike can’t help but smile back at him. 

He intends to return the greeting, he really does. Instead what comes out when he opens his mouth is- 

“I love you.” 

Wow. Not what he had meant to say. Stupid brain-to-mouth filter, failing him once more. Will’s eyes widen, just slightly. Mike opens his mouth to say something else, maybe backtrack, but nothing comes out. Because it’s true, he does love him, and nothing in the world can make him deny it. 

Suddenly, Will breaks out into a beaming smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, eradicating all Mike’s worries. 

“I love you too,” he says through his smile, pulling Mike closer to him and trapping his legs between his own. Mike shoves his face into the space where Will’s neck and shoulder meet, right where his shirt had slipped off. “I can’t believe you said it first.”

“I wasn’t aware we were having a competition,” Mike mumbles against the skin of Will’s neck. 

Will huffs a small laugh that Mike can feel rustling his hair on top of his head. Then, quietly, he breathes out, “Can you say it again, please?”

Mike leans back so he can look Will in his eyes. Now that it’s light, he can actually see all the details up close in Will’s face that he couldn’t last night. The small birthmarks scattered around, the specks of green in his eyes, the red of his lips. He just looks for a moment, not feeling any rush to look away. He’s so beautiful Mike’s dizzy with it. He can’t believe he gets to just look at him, let alone touch him. 

He picks up Will’s hand that is lying in between them with his own, intertwining their fingers. Just because he can. 

Will is looking at him with a hopeful glint in his eyes. Mike wants to take that hope and turn it into reality. He doesn’t know what it’s been like for Will, to have been in love with his best friend for nearly a decade (and wow, isn’t that a crazy thing to realize), but he can’t imagine it has been easy for him. But now that Mike’s finally stopped being a blind idiot, he’s going to make sure he tells Will as often as he can what he means to him. 

His chest feels full, like his heart has grown double in size. 

“I love you,” he says, softly. He needs Will to understand how much he means it. “So much. And I’ll love you for as long as you’ll let me.”

Will beams his bright, radiant smile at him. Mike basks in it. “You’re gonna be stuck with me forever then.”

Mike can only smile back at him. 

“Good.”

He can’t wait.