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It had started as a tiny flicker in the back of Mike’s mind, something easy to disregard at first. Now it was an actual, flaming, impossible-to-ignore issue, consuming his every waking thought.
Because the way Mike had been thinking about Will for the past year—if he was being brutally honest with himself, for the past fifteen years—was very much, completely, unequivocally not normal.
And now they were about to be stuck together for four years, in a room the size of a closet, and Mike was pretty sure he was going to implode.
Just the idea of it was enough to make his hands go clammy, which, combined with the already escalating heat, left him sweating at a rate that felt medically unsound. He hovered in the doorway, thinking about Will, and then trying not to think about Will, and then thinking about trying not to think about Will so much that it circled right back to Will again.
Or:
It’s summer, everyone is enjoying the last few months before college, and Mike realizes he might not be as normal about Will as he thought.