Chapter Text
It happened at a party. One of Mike’s friends from his creative writing class was turning twenty-one. It was mostly a small get-together, but there was still plenty of weed and alcohol to go around as a large group of young adults drank themselves stupid. Except for Will.
Usually, Mike was the designated sober friend. He said it was because they couldn't both be drunk if they wanted to get home alive, but Will knew it was because he worried. About a lot of things. About getting addicted. About having the same mood swings his father had when drunk—they didn't involve violence, just a loud, angry man talking shit about his family in front of his children. About how Will would react. This seemed to be the most important. He didn't like to drink around Will. This didn't bother Will at all, though. Instead, it made him happy to know that Mike recognized the trauma Will’s father left and was attempting to avoid triggering him. It was so considerate. But he had insisted that Mike should drink tonight. Just got tonight. And with the help of Mike's friends, he finally agreed to let go for one night.
Will would never force Mike to drink. None of them would have. Mike had been eyeing the random bottle of wine someone had brought the moment they entered the house.
So, no, they didn't force him. And by the amount he drank, it was easy to tell how eager he was.
That wasn't the issue, though. It was when Mike, Will, and Alyssa—the birthday girl—were all standing in the kitchen together, talking. Will was keeping an eye on Mike, who hadn't had any kind of alcohol in a long time. Will wouldn't say he was worried, though. Just cautious.
Okay, so maybe Mike was smart not to drink around Will. While Will fully trusted Mike, it still made him incredibly uncomfortable to be around someone who smelt like liquor. Or sounded like they smelt like liquor. It being Mike made it a little easier, but not easy enough.
“God, you guys are, like, inseparable,” Alyssa giggled. “So, so inseper—insep—yeah.”
“Really?” Mike hummed into his cup. Will wasn't sure what he was drinking now, but it had an odd fruity scent to it.
“Yeah! And, Will, baby, you're adors. Absolutely adors.”
“Uh—”
“Baby?” Mike cut him off, one eyebrow raised.
She flipped her hand about in the air in what looked like a clumsy attempt at a dismissive gesture. “Don't get your panties in a twist. Oh—panties. Remember when you—”
“Alyssa!” Mike shrieked, his entire face red.
Will just watched it all happen, not sure what to say. He liked Alyssa, but he didn't know her well. And it seemed she and Mike were in their own world. But Will wouldn't be able to say he wasn't curious without lying first. Because what was that about panties? And Mike? Oh, god, Will regretted coming already.
“You're just mad that I'm embarrassing you in front of your boyfriend!”
“Boyfriend?” Will asked, his voice higher than he intended. Not that they noticed. His hand shook where it clutched at his shirt. He had been planning to hail them a cab soon, which is how they got here, but now his entire brain was replaying the word ‘boyfriend’ on repeat.
He was over Mike, he told himself. He was—
“For the last time, he's not my boyfriend!” Mike sighed, looking absolutely done.
Alyssa only grinned. “But you want him to be.”
Will’s heart stopped. He needed to leave.
Now.
“Alyssa—”
“Hey,” Will whispered, grabbing onto Mike’s arm. “I think we should go.”
“Oh, Mike—” Alyssa paused, eyes wide. She seemed sober enough to realize what she said. “Shit, I—”
“Happy birthday, Alyssa,” Mike whispered, reaching over to wrap an arm around her now-shaking shoulder. He pressed a small, sloppy kiss against her temple. “Get some rest tonight.”
“Okay…”
Then Mike turned and began to walk out.
Will followed him into the night air, his mind reeling. But you want him to be.
And the way she reacted—oh, god. Mike didn't…not after all these years. That's—that isn't fair. That isn't fair. Fuck.
Will wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. No, it wasn't his sleeve. He had stolen Mike's hoodie because it was the only clean hoodie in the house.
This isn't fair.
.
They didn't talk on the way home. But the moment they were back inside their apartment, Mike said, “Will, I'm going to give you space. I want space, too. Uh, I think I'm kinda really fucking wasted, which I normally don't do—get?—er, anyway, I'm sorry. Don't shut me out in the morning, please. I just. I wanna talk. But Goddamnit.”
His words were messy, slung together like he didn't know what order they went in.
Will couldn't find it in his heart to stay mad at the moment. Not when Mike was giving him the saddest, most heartbroken look he had ever seen.
Not when Mike was trying so hard to stand straight long enough to express this to Will.
“Okay, Mike. We can talk tomorrow.”
Mike’s shoulders slumped in what seemed to be relief. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
They went their separate ways. Will couldn't sleep that night. He kept thinking about how fucking unfair this was. After all these years, after Will was finally over the bastard, here he comes with his stupid smile and sad eyes and his secretive feelings for Will that he apparently had no intention of sharing?
Will tried so hard to get over Mike. He had tried to do everything he could. And he was finally able to look at Mike without that guilt, without the fear. But now—it wasn't even Mike's fault. He hadn't even said anything. It was Alyssa. Which made it worse and better.
And Mike hadn't even been mad at Alyssa. He just looked tired. So, so tired. How long had he been struggling? And was it Will’s fault? What was Mike even thinking?
His thoughts were getting him nowhere, so he opted to take a shower. The water was too hot on his skin. But it was nice.
Afterwards, he got a large glass of water and some pain medicine to put on Mike's side table. Mike didn't wake up when Wil came in, but he stirred slightly just as he was about to leave.
“Please,” Mike murmured into his pillow. He sounded exhausted. And so horribly broken.
Will shut the door behind him.
.
Breakfast was a good place to start, right? Will made pancakes and eggs. They were just getting done when Mike pattered into the kitchen. He was freshly showered and looked like he hadn't slept in eight years.
“Oh, hi! If I had known you were awake I would have helped with the morning sickness.”
Mike scrunched his nose. It was cute. “Don't make it sound like impregnant.” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat.
“Sit. Food is done.”
Mike hummed, doing as told.
This part was easy. They had done this too many times to count, even as children. So there was no need to fill the silence.
But Mike did anyway. “Hey, I'm sorry.”
Will stiffened. “What do you remember?” After plating their food, he poured a glass of milk for each of them. He'd have to remember to grab the cup from Mike's room later—and no, that wasn't him trying to think of anything but the fact Mike possibly, probably had feelings for him.
“The beginning and the end of the night. Um, I remember the whole conversation, I think.”
“Okay.”
“I'm sorry, again. Um, I wasn't going to say anything, to be honest. Alyssa only knows because she was the one who helped me figure out—uh, well, how I was feeling. About you.”
Will's heart didn't thump a little harder in his chest.
And no, he wasn't flushed. That would be insane. He was just digging into his food.
“Oh.”
It was hard to stay calm. Mike clearly had a lot of things to say. And Will was tired of always being the one to initiate these types of conversations. The real ones. The ones where Mike stops pushing everyone away.
Mike took a bite of his pancake, smiling slightly as he did. “It's good. Thanks.”
“I figured you'd need a pick-me-up.” Will knew he sounded detached, cold. But, fuck. He was hurting.
It hurt so much. To finally hear these words. To know that he got what he wanted. After he's already over it.
It hurts.
“I didn't want to say anything because I knew you were already over me. And this would be unnecessary stress on you. I mean, nothing really changed after I realized. So I thought it wouldn't hurt to just keep being your friend for a while.” He swallowed. “I didn't want to lose you.”
“Mike…”
“I just, I know I hurt you. I know I've fucked up. And I didn't want to mess up again.”
Will sat his fork down, finally meeting Mike's gaze. “I'm not mad. I can't be mad at you for something that's not your fault. But I'm—god, I'm hurt. To think that we fell for each other at the wrong time…”
Those words must have hit heavy, because Mike was tearing up now, his bottom lip quivering. He probably felt like shit on the inside and out, and here he was, trying to keep himself together for Will.
This was the Mike Will fell in love with.
This was the Mike Will would never love again.
And this was the Mike that now loved Will.
Fate hated them.
“You're not mad?”
“No, Mike.”
“Good. Because I can't lose you. God, I couldn't live with myself if I did. And not just because I love you—” Mike stopped. He nearly choked on air, a rough sob shaking his entire frame.
He was in so much pain. Will wanted nothing more than to take that pain away. So, he stood, walked around the kitchen table, and wrapped his arms around Mike’s shoulders.
Mike leaned into the hug.
“I'm sorry, Will. I wish I could have loved you sooner.”
“It's okay, Mike. You'll always have me. Either way.”