Chapter Text
Mike wasn’t an alcoholic. At least, that’s what he told himself. A sip each morning, a glass of wine on a Saturday evening surely that didn’t count. And… Could you really blame him for the times he’d gotten blackout drunk? He’d been through a lot, not necessarily the same amount as his friends, but enough. Anyway, he didn’t have time to think about that now, not when he was lying next to Will.
Will had been sound asleep, chest rising and falling gently, his hand resting on the back of Mike’s neck, fingers tangled in his hair. Yeah… It was silly to even think he had a problem when his life was perfect now. So he quickly drifted back to sleep as well.
At some point, the alarm clock rang on the bedside table. Will stirred, rubbed his eyes, and yawned, reaching to shut it off, but Mike pressed closer, stubbornly tightening his hold around him. Mike, groggy and still half-lost in thought, nuzzled closer, curling against him, and mumbled,
“We ain’t going today. We’re sleeping in.” His black curls fell over half his face, one eye lazily open.
Will chuckled softly. “Mike… as much as I’d love to spend the day cuddling with you. You have classes, I got work.”
Mike frowned. Why was Will bringing this up now? Who cared about college when Mike could just sit here and listen to Will’s heartbeat—that beautiful, soft beat that meant his best friend was here, alive?
“What are you on about? You’ve got that art project, and I’ve got literature… ugh, shouldn’t have chosen it. Nobody cares about writing anymore anyway.”
Will raised an eyebrow and smirked softly. “You don’t really mean that.”
“I don’t really mean that.” Mike’s reply came quickly, because of course Will was right. Mike did care about writing. He’d even gotten into a huge fight with his father about what major he should pick. He had chosen business at first, when he felt lost, but… that was another story.
Despite his father’s comments, Mike moved to New York. He and Will became roommates, and now Mike was in his last year of university, which was fine. Cool. Nothing to stress over.
As Will got ready to head to the gallery he had been working at, Mike sighed and got up as well, starting to dress. A frown formed as he looked around the room. Where had he put the wine bottle?
Mike hid this from Will (from everyone, really) but especially from Will. He made sure to hide it. It was a bad habit Mike had picked up from his mom— he would never admit it and the fact that Will was really against alcohol (because of his father, though they never talked about that), at least that’s what Mike assumed.
Actually, no—he could tell, by the way Will’s nose twitched at parties when someone intoxicated got too close. Just because Will went to parties didn’t mean he’d grown used to it, even though he reassured Mike he had. Mike knew better. He knew Will better than anyone else.
Well… Mike felt ashamed doing this to Will. So he made sure his breath was clean, and he’d grown so used to drinking that nobody could tell anymore. Not the Party, not his parents, and definitely not Will.
Nancy was a different story, but not the time.
Will’s gaze followed Mike, watching as he got up and started to dress. It was kind of funny, seeing a sleepy Mike trying to get dressed, stumbling around, still grumpy that he didn’t get to sleep in all day. But Will paused when he saw Mike start to rummage through the room, clearly having lost something. His eyes followed his every movement, noticing the frown and the way his gaze swept around the room.
What was he looking for?
“Mike… are you looking for something?” he asked gently, tilting his head to the side.
“My keys.” The lie came easy, calm on his tongue, and that felt worse.
Friends don’t lie.
The words hit before he could stop them. For a second, it wasn’t even his voice.
He could almost hear her saying it. He swallowed, jaw tightening.
No. Not now.
He shoved the thought down hard, reaching for something else—anything else.
A technicality.
He didn't know where his keys were, so it wasn't a lie-lie. He exhauled slowly.
Mike knew he was lucky that Will had waited for him, after everything...after all the times Mike had pushed him away. And hell, maybe Mike was hiding things because lying felt like a poison in his lungs. Better to hide than to lie.
Mike finished dressing and looked at Will, offering a soft smile. They could both read each other well enough, but Mike couldn’t tell what Will was seeing right now. So he lowered his voice, his Will voice, and said,
“Hey… I am going to my classes, I promise. Sorry, I’m just… a little sleepy, is all.”
Will’s eyes narrowed slightly. He knew Mike too well. Something about him felt off. But maybe it was just morning grogginess.
Mike leaned close, brushing his lips against Will’s cheek and pressing kisses along his neck—a familiar distraction—but his stomach churned with anxiety. He wanted a drink to calm down.
“Hey… how about you go ahead, and I’ll head out as soon as I find my keys? You’ve got yours, right?” he whispered.
Will fought the haze creeping over him, nodded, and stepped back.
Now that Mike was alone,he acted fast. Trashing around the place until he found the hidden wine, behind the couch, and took a single sip. His body relaxed almost immediately. He cleaned up quickly, hoping Will was none the wiser, and went to class.