Work Text:
Will:
Today was March 21st.
It had been a long week of classes for Will, especially with his job at the coffee shop at the adjacent block from his apartment building. Well, their apartment building. Speaking of which, where was Mike? He was usually up for his early morning class, making all the noise in the world in the mornings and sometimes even barging into Will's room strictly at 7:35 am to hand a coffee to Will. Which always made him blush, in turn earning a warm grin from Mike, he chooses to ignore this and figures it’s for the better if he does, hope is a dangerous game to play. He and Will had decided to move in together when they left for college, Mike insisting it was what made sense, to save money. Will never protested, but did think it was strange since they had enough government hush money to have their own apartments for at least a few years. Mike had shut down Lucas and Dustin wanting to bunk with them as well though, claiming they could use the boat loads of money for their separate housing and something about them being too chaotic, he would get annoyed with them – he could never with Will. He chooses to ignore this too.
The light peaked through curtains as he got up from under the covers, already missing the comfort when his feet hit the cool, wooden floorboards. He glanced at the clock, it read 8:52. Great. First he barely gets up and is extra cold this morning, just to find out he actually slept longer than he does most nights. His first lecture is his Art And Design course with Mrs. Maurice, historically a drag for him since she hates him – I mean who gives out an assignment on Friday, due Monday where you have to remake a famous painting AND write an analysis plus a personal essay on it, seriously she was asking for him to do terrible, but everyone else did great so he is the problem. Whatever, anyway. Will recounts that instance in his head while pulling on his clothes, a yellow hoodie that had a stain and some tan khakis, he pulls open his bedroom door, already dreading the mess of paints, pastels and brushes he left out the night prior cramming techniques into his skull so he wouldn’t be clueless the next time Mrs. M mentions stippling, which he still hasn't gotten a hang of by the way. He is already mad at Mrs. Maurice without even having stepped foot into her class yet today, this is going to be a long day, he is ready to pay the price of his laziness last night as he walks into the living room. Or…. not??
His eyes land on his easel in the back corner of their common area and his face contracts into confusion as his eyes land on a yellow sticky note plastered on his watercolour set, he is a bit too far to make out the words.
As he approaches he sees his acrylics stacked neatly back into their container, his pastels set back into their box and stacked on the cart that sits beside his easel and his paint brushes, completely clean, placed in a jar off to the side. He knew it was Mike, and his mood was immediately thrown to a 180 as he peels the note off of the paints, bringing it to his face to read.
I woke up a little early, noticed you were stressed last night so I thought this may help.
Sorry if I messed up anything that wasn’t supposed to be moved, have a good day and don’t be late to class again like last week!!
- Mike
The “I” in Mike was dotted with a heart, he tried not to think about that too closely, it is nothing, it means nothing.
Speaking of hearts, Will’s Just skipped a beat.
He re- reads the note, grateful for Mike like always,
– Don’t be late to class…. –
Shit, class. He grabs a granola bar on the way out the door, shoving the note into the pocket of his jacket as he shrugs it on. As he makes his way to the lecture hall, room 371, all he can think about is his best friend, one he may or may not be in love with. It's okay though, having him as a friend is enough, it is, really.