Work Text:
⸻
The house is too quiet.
Not in a peaceful way.
In that… empty way.
⸻
Will flips the TV channel again, not really watching anything.
“…this is so boring,” he mutters.
⸻
Robin, sprawled across the other end of the couch, groans.
“You picked the movie.”
“I didn’t know it was gonna be this bad.”
“You picked it because it was bad.”
“…That’s different.”
⸻
Robin snorts.
Will huffs, pulling his knees up slightly, blanket half-wrapped around him.
The house creaks.
They both pause for half a second—
Then ignore it.
⸻
The phone rings.
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Both of them look at it.
⸻
“…You expecting someone?” Robin asks.
Will shakes his head. “…No.”
⸻
It rings again.
Unknown number.
⸻
“…Don’t,” Robin says immediately.
Will hesitates.
“…It’s probably nothing.”
⸻
It rings again.
Louder this time.
Or maybe it just feels like it.
⸻
“…Fine,” Will mutters, grabbing it.
He answers.
“…Hello?”
⸻
A pause.
Static.
⸻
Then—
A voice.
Calm. Smooth.
Too calm.
“Hello, Will.”
⸻
Will frowns slightly.
“…Do I know you?”
⸻
A soft exhale on the other end.
“Not yet.”
⸻
Robin straightens immediately, watching him now.
⸻
Will shifts, unease creeping in.
“…Who is this?”
⸻
The voice doesn’t answer that.
Instead—
“What are you watching?”
⸻
Will glances at the TV.
Then back down.
“…A movie.”
⸻
A quiet, almost amused hum.
“I can see that.”
⸻
Will freezes.
⸻
Robin’s expression changes instantly.
“…Will,” she mouths.
⸻
Will’s grip tightens on the phone.
“…What?”
⸻
“I asked,” the voice continues calmly, “what are you watching?”
⸻
“…Why?”
⸻
Another pause.
Then—
“Because I like scary movies.”
⸻
Robin mouths: hang up.
⸻
Will doesn’t.
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“…This isn’t funny,” Will says, quieter now.
⸻
“I’m not laughing.”
⸻
The house creaks again.
Louder this time.
⸻
Will glances toward the hallway.
Dark.
Empty.
⸻
“…Where are you?” Will asks before he can stop himself.
⸻
A small pause.
Then—
“Close.”
⸻
Robin grabs his arm now.
“Hang up,” she whispers.
⸻
Will swallows.
“…If this is some kind of joke—”
⸻
“It’s not.”
Still calm.
Still controlled.
⸻
“You should lock your doors, Will.”
⸻
The line goes dead.
⸻
Silence.
⸻
Robin stands immediately.
“Okay—nope. Nope. We’re not doing that.”
⸻
Will stares at the phone.
“…That wasn’t funny.”
⸻
“No, that was bad,” Robin says, already moving. “Did you lock the back door?”
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Will hesitates.
“…I think so.”
⸻
“You think so?”
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They both look toward the hallway.
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Another creak.
⸻
“…We should check,” Will says.
⸻
Robin nods. “…Together.”
⸻
They move slowly.
Step by step.
The floor creaks under them.
⸻
The kitchen is dark.
The back door—
Closed.
⸻
Robin exhales. “…Okay. Good.”
⸻
Will steps closer.
Reaches for the handle.
⸻
It’s unlocked.
⸻
He freezes.
“…Robin.”
⸻
“…Yeah?”
⸻
“…I locked this.”
⸻
Robin goes still.
⸻
The lights flicker.
⸻
Both of them flinch.
⸻
Then—
The phone rings again.
⸻
Loud.
Sharp.
Too loud in the silence.
⸻
They both turn.
⸻
Robin shakes her head. “…Don’t.”
⸻
It keeps ringing.
⸻
Will steps forward anyway.
Picks it up.
⸻
“…Hello?”
⸻
A soft breath.
Closer this time.
⸻
“You didn’t lock it.”
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Will’s stomach drops.
“…Who is this?”
⸻
“I told you,” the voice says quietly.
“I’m close.”
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Robin grabs his sleeve again.
“Hang up.”
⸻
Will doesn’t move.
⸻
“…What do you want?” he asks.
⸻
A pause.
⸻
Then—
“I want to know something.”
⸻
Will’s grip tightens.
“…What?”
⸻
The voice lowers slightly.
More focused.
More intent.
⸻
“Do you scare easily, Will?”
⸻
Silence stretches.
⸻
“…No,” Will says, even though his voice isn’t steady.
⸻
A quiet hum.
Like approval.
⸻
“Good.”
⸻
A creak.
Behind them.
⸻
Robin turns sharply.
“…Did you hear that?”
⸻
Will slowly looks toward the hallway.
Dark.
Empty—
⸻
No.
Not empty.
⸻
Something shifts.
⸻
A figure.
⸻
Black.
Still.
Watching.
⸻
The mask catches the light.
White.
Expressionless, a ghost face mask.
⸻
Will stops breathing.
⸻
The voice on the phone—
Right in his ear—
⸻
“Turn around.”
⸻
Will already has.
⸻
The figure tilts its head slightly.
⸻
Doesn’t move closer.
Doesn’t rush them.
⸻
Just… watches.
⸻
Robin grabs Will’s arm hard.
“…We need to go.”
⸻
Will can’t look away.
⸻
The figure lifts a hand slowly—
A small, almost casual wave.
⸻
The phone line goes dead.
⸻
Lights flicker—
⸻
Gone.
⸻
Darkness.
⸻
A step.
Closer.
⸻
Robin pulls Will—
They run—
⸻
Door—
Inside—
Locked—
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Silence.
⸻
A knock.
⸻
“…Will.”
⸻
The handle turns—
This time it doesn’t stop—
⸻
The door pushes open.
⸻
He’s there.
⸻
Closer than before.
⸻
Robin grabs the nearest thing—book—and holds it up.
“…Don’t come any closer!”
⸻
He does anyway.
Slow.
Unbothered.
⸻
Will steps in front of her without thinking.
⸻
“…Stop,” Will says.
⸻
And—
He does.
⸻
Just stops.
⸻
Tilts his head again.
Like he’s… studying him.
⸻
Silence stretches.
⸻
—
—
⸻
⸻
Will’s breath catches.
⸻
it’s a guy.
He seems will’s age.
Too calm.
⸻
“…You’re not—” Robin starts.
⸻
“I could be,” he says simply.
⸻
His gaze doesn’t leave Will.
Not once.
⸻
“…Why are you doing this?” Will asks quietly.
⸻
A small pause.
⸻
“…You didn’t hang up,” he says.
⸻
Will frowns. “…What?”
⸻
“You stayed,” he continues.
“…Most people don’t.”
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Robin scoffs. “…That’s your reason?!”
⸻
He ignores her.
⸻
“…You’re not scared enough,” he says to Will.
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Will swallows. “…I am.”
⸻
“…Not like you should be.”
⸻
Silence.
⸻
Then—
He steps closer.
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Robin tightens her grip on the book—
⸻
But Will doesn’t move.
⸻
He just stands there.
⸻
Watching him.
⸻
Too close now.
⸻
“…You should run,” Mike says quietly.
⸻
Will doesn’t.
⸻
“…Why aren’t you?”
⸻
Will’s voice is barely above a whisper.
“…Why aren’t you making me?”
⸻
Something shifts in his expression.
⸻
Not softer—
Just… different.
⸻
A pause.
⸻
Then—
Very lightly—
His hand brushes Will’s sleeve.
⸻
Testing.
⸻
Will freezes.
But doesn’t pull away.
⸻
Robin stares.
“…Will—”
⸻
Mike pulls his hand back.
⸻
Steps away.
⸻
Just like that.
⸻
Distance again.
⸻
“…Lock your doors next time,” he says.
⸻
The lights flicker—
⸻
Gone.
⸻
⸻
⸻
Silence fills the room.
⸻
Robin lowers the book slowly.
“…What the hell just happened.”
⸻
Will doesn’t answer.
⸻
He’s still staring at the doorway.
⸻
His sleeve—
Where he touched him.
⸻
The phone rings again.
⸻
They both flinch.
⸻
Will steps forward this time.
Picks it up.
⸻
“…Hello?”
⸻
A pause.
⸻
Then—
“…don’t forget to lock your doors...”
⸻
The line goes dead.
⸻
And this time—
It doesn’t ring again.
⸻
The storage room was dim, blankets and pillows scattered like a fortress. Will pressed his back against the wall, hugging a pillow tight, while Robin sat close by, eyes scanning the shadows.
The phone buzzed. Unknown number. Will’s chest tightened.
“…It’s another unknown number,” he whispered, voice barely audible.
Robin’s eyes widened. “…are you gonna answer it?”
Will’s thumb hovered. “…I have to… I need to know…”
He picked up.
“…Hello, Will,” came the calm, deliberate voice. Smooth. Chilling.
Will swallowed hard. “…W-who… who is this?”
“…Names don’t matter,” Mike said. “…What matters is… are your doors locked? Every single one of them?”
Will glanced nervously at Robin. “…Uh… yes… I think…”
“…Think?” Mike’s tone sharpened, just enough to make Will flinch. “…Storage room door—closed, right? Not just slightly, fully closed?”
Will’s hands gripped the blanket. “…Yes… it’s closed…”
“…Good,” Mike purred, the faintest edge of amusement in his voice. “…But don’t turn around. I’m closer than you realize.”
Will’s stomach dropped. “…I… I won’t…”
“…And tonight…” Mike continued, slower now, deliberate, “…you’ll want to sleep with one eye open. Keep the lights in mind… and listen. The house makes noises you won’t notice… but I do.”
The lights flickered once. A thump echoed from somewhere deep in the house. Will froze, gripping the pillow, breath uneven.
“…You stay where you are. Don’t move. Don’t peek. Don’t make a sound,” Mike whispered. “…I know exactly where you are. One wrong glance, one slip… and it won’t be fun.”
Will’s heart hammered in his chest. “…Robin… he’s… here…”
Robin’s hand pressed to his arm, grounding him. “…We’re fine. Just… breathe…”
“…Remember this,” Mike said, voice soft but terrifying, “…you could get hurt if you’re careless. Keep your eyes open… and your wits about you. One wrong move, Will…”
Click. The line went dead.
Will pressed his face into the blankets, shaking slightly. Shadows seemed to stretch longer, the faint creaks of the house amplified in his ears. “…I… I don’t know why… I keep thinking about him…”
Robin smirked faintly. “…You’re noticing him, aren’t you?”
Will groaned into the pillow. “…Shut up…”
The room was quiet except for their breathing. Every flicker of the lights, every thump from deep in the house, made Will’s heart race. And somewhere in the darkness, unseen, the calm, dangerous presence lingered—terrifying and magnetic all at once.
Even without knowing much about him, the pull was undeniable.
⸻
⸻
The storage room was quiet, blankets and pillows forming a tiny fortress around Will and Robin. The first phone call had left their hearts racing, every shadow a potential threat.
“…Robin…” Will whispered, gripping the phone, “…I… I need to go to the bathroom.”
Robin’s eyes went wide. “…Wait—you’re serious? After that call?”
Will smirked faintly, ignoring the warning. “…Relax. I’ll be fine. Just a few steps…”
Robin groaned. “…Fine. But don’t do anything stupid.”
Will pushed himself off the pile of blankets and slipped out.
The hallway stretched dim and long, shadows clawing at the walls. Every flicker of light made him hesitate, heart hammering.
The bathroom door creaked open. Will shut it behind him, pressing the lock, and exhaled.
And then—he saw him.
Tall. Silent. Dark eyes sharp and calculating. A faint, twisted smirk tugged at his lips, hidden by the mask. Mike’s presence filled the room, impossible to ignore.
“…You really are something, leaving the storage room like that,” Mike said, voice low, teasing, edged with menace. “…Not exactly the smartest move, little idiot.”
Will froze. “…I… I needed—”
“Needed what?” Mike interrupted smoothly, stepping closer. “…To get yourself killed? To test me?”
Will swallowed, heart racing. “…I… I wasn’t thinking…”
Mike shook his head slowly, smirk widening behind the mask. “…Reckless. Always so reckless. And somehow… I can’t decide if I should kill you right now… or later.”
Will’s stomach twisted. “…I… I’m sorry…”
Mike’s eyes gleamed, not soft, not kind—,teasing. “…Next time, listen. It’s not a suggestion. And don’t think I won’t notice. I notice everything.”
Will’s fingers gripped the edge of the sink. “…I… I know…”
Mike leaned slightly closer, just enough to make Will tense. “…One more wrong move, one more glance behind you, and you’ll regret it. But… you’re lucky. For now.”
Will’s cheeks burned. “…I… I won’t…”
Mike smirked, tilting his head. “…Good. Now go. Pretend you were careful.”
Will exhaled shakily, stepping backward. “…R-right… thank you…”
Mike’s lips twitched behind the mask. “…Don’t thank me yet. Consider yourself warned, idiot.”
Will returned to the storage room, hugging the blanket tight, chest pounding. Robin’s hand rested on his shoulder. “…Everything okay?”
Will buried his face in the pillows. “…Yeah… just… he’s… scary…”
Robin raised an eyebrow. “…That scary, huh?”
Will couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him. Dangerous, scary, … and somehow magnetic. He pressed himself against the blankets, heart still hammering, mind replaying the sharp tone, the mask, the presence.
Even scared, he knew one thing: he couldn’t stop thinking about him.
⸻
Will’s chest heaved, eyes wide, flashlight trembling in his hands. Robin had stepped out, she had to grab something, leaving him alone. The silence of the storage room pressed in, heavy and suffocating.
A creak from the hallway made him freeze. His body stiffened, every nerve screaming.
The lights flickered, when they turned back on there he was again...
Mike stood there, the Ghostface mask hiding every expression, knife glinting faintly in his hand. One hand pressed firmly against Will’s throat— tight.. he couldn’t leave.
Will’s instinct took over. His fingers lifted, hovering, hesitantly pressing against Mike’s hand, as if testing whether he could push it away.
“…Don’t…” Mike’s voice was low, calm, and edged with teasing danger. “…Don’t even think about it.”
Will froze, breath quickening, cheeks burning. “Your…S… scary…” he stammered again, panic edging every word.
Mike leaned slightly closer, height and presence overwhelming, voice smooth, “…Scared?” he murmured, sharp amusement in his tone. “…good, you should be.”
“…I… I…” He wanted to say more, but fear had stolen his voice.
Mike’s hand remained tight on his throat, knife in the other hand casually held, glinting in the dim light. “…your Reckless, and foolish…” he whispered, leaning closer. “…You really like testing me, don’t you?”
Will swallowed hard, unable to form words. “…I… I—”
Mike’s hand pressed slightly tighter against wills throat, enough to make breathing harder.. not enough to suffocate. the subtle tightening made his pulse spike. “…hush,” he murmured, “…No talking, Think about what happens if you step out of line again.”
Will’s fingers hovered near Mike’s wrist again, trembling, but Mike’s sharp gaze and gentle, firm restraint stopped him. “…Don’t…” Mike said softly, a smirk coming in behind his mask. “…I said don’t.”
Will’s cheeks flushed, chest hammering. “Your…scary…” he whispered barely audible. “…I…”
Mike stepped just slightly closer, knife still in hand, presence overwhelming,—hand still tight around his throat. “…Good,” he murmured. “…Remember this. You’re lucky I’m… restrained. For now.”
Will’s heart raced, mind spinning, every instinct screaming fear, every pulse tingling with adrenaline—and a strange, forbidden pull toward the dangerous figure looming over him. Then he stepped away letting will breath again. The lights flickered, gone.
⸻
⸻
Robin came back, they went to go sleep but wills throat was dry so he went to get water.
The bathroom was dark, shadows pooling along the walls. Will’s chest heaved, throat tight and dry, pulse hammering. Robin was asleep in the storage room, leaving him completely alone.
A soft creak from the hallway froze him mid-step.
The lights flickered, and there he was.
Mike stood there. Tall. Masked. Knife glinting faintly in the dim light. One hand shot out, pressing firmly against Will’s throat— again. Tight, just enough to make breathing difficult not yet suffocating him. Knife pressing against his throat aswell
Will froze. Eyes wide. Heart racing. He couldn’t form words. “…i…” Nothing came out.
Mike’s voice was low, sharp, . “…You shouldn’t have come out,” he murmured, each word deliberate. “…Not alone. Not after last time.”
Instinctively, Will’s hand rose, hovering, trembling—and then he dared to press it lightly against Mike’s hand at his throat. Just a fleeting touch, hesitant, testing the boundary.
Mike’s grip stayed firm, but for a moment, he let Will feel the contact. And behind the mask, a grin curved his hidden lips, audible in the tone of his voice, sharp.
Then, in one smooth motion, his grip shifted slightly, pressing more tightly around his throat. “…You shouldn’t,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “…Not now. Not ever, if you value your life that is…”
Will’s pulse spiked. He froze entirely, chest heaving, unable to speak. Fingers lingered a heartbeat longer, then slowly drew back, cheeks flushed, heart hammering.
Mike leaned slightly closer, presence overwhelming, knife still pressed against wills throat, grin still hidden but evident in the playful menace of his tone. “…Good,” he murmured. “…Fear suits you, Remember… One more wrong move and it won’t be so playful.”
Will stayed perfectly still, trembling, unable to respond, chest hammering. And even though he was terrified, trapped, and pinned… part of him couldn’t help being drawn to the figure holding him so tightly.
⸻
⸻
The storage room was silent except for Robin’s soft, even breathing. Will pressed himself low into the blanket pile, heart hammering, pulse screaming in his ears. Every creak of the house, every shadow made him freeze.
fingers clutching the edge of a pillow.
But despite his caution, his hands trembled. His chest heaved. His body wouldn’t stay calm. And just like that—he made another small, reckless move.
A shadow shifted instantly.
A light flickered.
Mike.
Tall. Masked. Knife in hand. One hand shot out, pressing firmly at Will’s throat— this time a little gentler.
Will froze, eyes wide, trapped, unable to form words. “…I… I… didn’t mean…” he tried to whisper, but the words caught in his chest.
Mike’s voice was low, sharp, “…You’ve made too many mistakes tonight,” he murmured, grin audible behind the mask. “…But… I’ll give you two last chances. Don’t waste them.”
Will’s fingers shook, chest heaving, mind racing. Panic bubbled up uncontrollably. On impulse, he pressed his hand lightly on top of Mike’s—a panicked, trembling motion, not daring to linger… at first.
Mike’s eyes, hidden behind the mask, followed every movement with his eyes. His grip at Will’s throat didn’t tighten this time, but he didn’t push the hand away immediately either. He let it linger a few seconds longer than before, enough that Will felt a surge of reckless relief.
“…Careful,” Mike murmured, voice low, teasing. “…That’s one. Don’t get comfortable.”
Will’s chest heaved, pulse racing, cheeks flushed. “…I… I…” he whispered shakily. “…I”
Mike’s grip shifted slightly, firming enough to stop him. “…And that’s enough,” he said, tone sharp but playful. “…You get one more chance, idiot. One. Don’t waste it.”
Will froze completely, heart hammering, eyes wide. He swallowed hard, fingers trembling as he kept them hovering near Mike’s hand, barely daring to touch again.
Mike leaned just slightly closer, knife near wills face, mask hiding the grin that made the tension almost unbearable. “…Good,” he murmured. “…Remember this feeling. Fear suits you. But recklessness… won’t be rewarded.”
Will stayed frozen, trapped, terrified—but also bizarrely drawn to the presence pressing down on him. He dared not move again.
And Robin’s steady, soft breathing was the only sound that reminded him just how careful he had to be.
⸻
The house was silent. Dead silent. Robin had left hours ago, leaving Will alone, alone with the shadows, the silence… and the memory of the last encounter.
He tried to focus on the blankets around him in the storage room, tried to calm his racing heartbeat. But the thrill, the danger, and the memory of the mask haunted him.
…and then, recklessness surged.
Will shifted slightly, chest hammering, and leaned just a little too far—enough to make a noise, enough to draw attention.
A shadow filled the doorway.
Mike.
Tall. Masked. Knife glinting faintly in the dim light. His hand shot out, pressing firmly at Will’s throat again, pinning him against the wall. The knife hovered dangerously close to his face—but not touching.
Will froze. Breath caught. Chest heaving. “You- your…S… scary…” he whispered, trembling, voice barely audible.
Mike leaned closer,
“…Curiosity again, idiot,” Mike murmured, low, teasing, dangerous. “…You shouldn’t have made a sound.”
Will’s hands trembled, hovering near the mask. Panic mixed with a strange pull of fascination. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he pressed his fingers onto the edge of the mask, letting himself trace it for a heartbeat longer than he should.
Mike’s hand stayed firm at his throat, holding him in place. But the moment stretched. He didn’t pull away immediately, letting the tension linger, letting Will feel the pull, the thrill.
Will swallowed hard. “…I… I…” he whispered shakily. “…I… can i…”
Mike’s voice dipped lower,, teasing: “…Careful. Don’t ask for too much. One more wrong move… and you’ll regret it.”
Will’s trembling fingers slid the mask slightly higher, revealing a bit of Mike’s face this time: sharp jaw, faint stubble, lips curling into that dangerous grin. His chest heaved, eyes wide, heartbeat pounding, but he couldn’t stop himself.
…and then, finally, a slow, careful motion. Will pressed his lips to Mike’s.
rushed. desperate. Long. Deliberate. Lips brushing, then holding, heart racing, chest heaving against the knife’s shadow, against the weight of Mike’s hand at his throat.
Mike leaned in just enough to meet him,
hand holding him firm yet somehow letting the intimacy linger. Their lips parted after a few tense, thrilling seconds—enough to leave both breathless.
Will pulled back, flushed, trembling, “I… I…” he whispered, chest heaving,
Mike’s voice, low and teasing, carried amusement. he murmured. “…Next time… one more wrong move…”
⸻
⸻
⸻
Will stared at the phone for too long before he touched it.
A month of silence. A month of pretending none of it had happened.
Didn’t work.
He dialed anyway.
The ringing felt wrong. Too loud. Too exposed.
Click.
No greeting.
Just breathing.
Then—
“…Miss me?”
Will’s stomach dropped. “…I—”
“…Don’t lie,” the voice cut in, low and even. “You wouldn’t be calling if you didn’t.”
Will tightened his grip on the phone. “…I didn’t think you’d answer.”
A soft sound. Not quite a laugh.
“…You knew I would.”
Silence stretched.
Will shifted slightly, glancing toward the hallway. “…This is stupid,” he muttered.
“…Yeah,” the voice said. “…It is.”
That wasn’t reassuring.
“…Then why—”
“…Why pick up?”
A pause.
“…Because you don’t learn.”
That landed. Hard.
Will frowned. “…but this doesn’t count as a wrong move.. your still not here and my lights haven’t flickered-.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“…You sure about that?”
Will’s pulse picked up. “…What does that even mean?”
No answer.
Just a faint shift— a small flicker of the lights.
“…Where are you?” Will asked, quieter now.
“…Close enough.”
His breath hitched. “…Stop.”
Mike in fact did not stop.-
“…i know exactly where you are… i can see you very clearly..”
Will didn’t answer right away.
“…i...”
“…Door closed?”
“…Yeah.”
“…Locked?”
A beat.
“…No.”
Silence.
Then—
“…That’s not smart.”
Will’s chest tightened. “…You’re not even actually—”
“…Lights still on?”
“…Dim,” he said, almost automatically.
Another pause.
“…Good.”
It didn’t sound good.
Will swallowed. “…Why are you asking me this?”
A breath. Closer this time.
“…Because I want to know what I’m looking at.-”
Will’s pulse was loud in his ears now. “…What?”
And then—calm, controlled, final:
“…Turn around.”
Will didn’t move.
“…No.”
“…Turn around.”
Same tone. No change.
“…You’re not even here,” Will said, but it came out weaker than he wanted.
Silence.
Then, quieter:
“…Turn. Around.”
Something in his chest dropped.
Slowly, against his better judgment, Will turned.
Mike was there.
Not stepping in. Not moving. Just—there. Leaning in the doorway like he’d been watching long enough to get bored of waiting.
Mask on. Slightly lifted.
Knife loose in his hand.
The phone slipped from Will’s grip. The call ended with a dull click.
The silence after was worse.
Will took a step forward before he could stop himself.
Mike didn’t react.
Didn’t stop him. Didn’t move at all.
That was worse.
Will reached out slowly, pressing his fingers against Mike’s chest. Testing. Waiting for something—anything.
Nothing.
No reaction.
“…Go on,” Mike said quietly.
Not permission. Not encouragement. Just—watching.
Will’s hand stayed there, then moved—slow, cautious—upward.
Until his fingers brushed the edge of the mask.
And stopped.
Last time.
His hand hovered.
Mike noticed. Of course he did.
“…That’s where you hesitate?” he said.
Will didn’t look at him. “…You didn’t let me before.”
“…No.”
A step forward. Closing the space completely.
Will didn’t step back.
“…I didn’t.”
The words sat there.
Then—
Mike’s hand came up.
Fast enough to make Will tense—but it didn’t grab him.
It settled over Will’s hand instead. Firm. Controlled.
Holding it in place.
Will went still.
“…Don’t stop now,” Mike murmured.
His grip tightened just slightly—enough to guide.
“…You’ve waited for a month.”
A beat.
“…see this as a little reward.”
Will’s breath came uneven as he finally moved again, pushing the mask up.
Until it wasn’t hiding anything anymore.
And—
It hit harder than he expected.
The grin wasn’t imagined. It was real. Sharper without the mask, pulled slightly by the scar cutting across his cheek. His eyes were worse—focused, steady, like he’d been watching this play out the whole time.
Will stared.
“…Not what you expected?” Mike asked.
Will shook his head, barely. “…No.”
And then he moved.
The kiss wasn’t exactly planned.
It was desperate, immediate—a month of no contact snapping all at once. His hand stayed tangled near the mask, the other gripping onto Mike’s shirt like he needed to anchor himself.
For a second—nothing.
Then Mike responded.
Not soft. Not gentle.
Hungrily.
He held the kiss exactly where he wanted it—enough pressure to keep Will there, right on the edge of it.
When they pulled back, it was barely a break.
Will’s breathing was uneven. His eyes didn’t leave Mike’s face.
“…I tried not to call,” he admitted quietly.
A pause.
Then—just a slight shift of that grin.
“…Yeah,” Mike said.
“…You don’t seem like someone who tries very hard.”
The mask was still half-lifted. The knife still in his hand.
And Mike—
still hadn’t stepped back.