Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Mike had tried his hand and failed at many dates, ones that he regretted going on in the first place. Whether a joke didn’t land well or the perfume was overbearing, on the dates that Mike had been on, he had settled the bill early. He was still a gentleman. It wasn’t a matter of attraction, he should say. It was the fact that Mike put a heavy hand towards having a friendship. When he would go on these dates, he could instantly tell that he had nothing in common with any of them. 

Amber was a book nerd. And though he liked speaking to intelligent people, there was a line to be drawn when he couldn’t keep up. It was a fault of his own, he supposed. He opted out of college as the thought of going through school again when he legitimately barely survived the last time, he just wanted to live his life. She had ambition and drive that Mike simply couldn’t match.

That was his first date, and the date thereafter had been with his couch with Will tagging along. It was just so easy with him. The usual banter, the same interests. Moving in tandem to set up— their sacred movie nights when Will didn’t have a late shift. So sacred, that Mike had planned any dates he had to only fall on said late shifts that Will had, or during the day to ease into them. 

About a month later and almost two months into living with Will, he had gone out with a beautiful woman named Marlene. She was nice, a dark skinned woman with golden jewelry, a heavenly scent and a bold red lip. He was sure that this goddess in front of him would surely do the trick. But with her vast decor, which she had bragged was real gold, Mike knew that with his measly checks from the corner store wouldn’t allow for her spoils. It was nothing against her, she was beautiful, she was grounded and centered. Mike was broke.

The conversation was also rather dry, as they shared no mutual interests. The date ended with an early bill, awkward lemonade sipping and a brief hand shake.

Again, he found himself on the couch with Will. 

After his third date, Mike gave up, as that was a completely horrible experience that he didn’t want to relive. 

But after that third date, he found himself with a thought. A potentially life ruining thought that had sent him on a whirlwind. 

‘I wish I would have gone there with Will instead.’

It was the day after, when they were drinking coffee, the warm breeze from their window that Mike truly noticed it. The flecks of green in Will’s eyes, the way he crossed his ankles, folding one arm against himself whilst bringing his mug to his mouth. Of course he had noticed these things before, but it was the quiet nature of it. Sitting in mutual silence and simply observing. With everything that had happened in Hawkins, the Upside Down, living with one another like ships passing in the night, then moving hours from home; Mike figured out that there simply wasn’t time to.

Well, more so no time once puberty had hit, he supposed.

He looked at the tilt of his head, watched as he would lick the brew from his lips in quiet caffeine fueled peace, and decided that he liked it like this. Not thinking of girls or a future with one. He had done what he needed to, put himself out there, tested the waters. 

He found himself questioning why he hadn’t thought of El on those dates, but always of the boy next to him in their kitchen. 

It started simply, on the first outing he had with Amber. He had written it off as something innocent. When they were ordering, at the local breakfast place as he wanted the early morning date. She had ordered scrambled eggs. When he had put syrup on his, not even thinking of it, he noticed her look of disgust. 

‘Will likes his eggs like this.’ 

Simple, easy, they lived together for crying out loud. Nothing more than an observation. They had to have shared thousands of breakfasts with one another at this point. It made sense that in the midst of silent judgment his mind would seek out a place where there wasn’t any.

On the second date, it wasn’t exactly that Marlene had been rude, as she was perfectly pleasant. But she didn’t look the server in the eye. She had smiled and minded her P’s and Q’s, and there simply wasn’t anything to complain about, but again, his thoughts had wandered to the brunet that slept across the hall from him.

‘That would have bothered him. The lack of eye contact.’

Again, completely innocent in nature. Will worked in food service, Will had vented to him about feeling less than human whilst handing paper bags full of greasy food over the counter. Will had a habit of staring straight into one's soul when he would have conversations. There were, of course, exceptions to this rule. Those being, when Will was faced with confrontation or something that made him shy or uncomfortable. 

That was also one of the things he had been grappling with. It was easy with Will. He read his body language as well as he could read a book. He could tell when he was cold or anxious, when he was tired or hungry, when he was in a good mood versus a bad one. He never got angry, in fact, the last time they had shared anger with one another was in California at the forsaken skating rink.

He would get awfully quiet and sit in their rocking chair with his sketchbook until he fell asleep. When Mike would discover this scene, and particularly in this one instance, all he wanted to do was kiss the creases from his forehead. And once he was asleep, in that peaceful state that wasn’t marred with nightmares, he longed to sit with him and see the world through his eyes. 

It was no secret that Mike had always been Will’s biggest fan, and while he had to admit it stemmed largely from how close they were, it also stemmed from a place of pure wonder. Mike had always been a man with words and articulated his thoughts and feelings of life onto pages or picking apart the movies they would watch. Will had a quiet ease that he seamlessly transferred to paper like it was second nature.

It was a quiet affection that had always been there, but had changed its meaning once he had admitted to himself that in his time spent trying to find a nice girl to settle down with, that he didn’t want to learn another language. That he had already mastered one, what was the point in another?

He had told himself that he would have rather gone out with Will. He couldn’t sit there and pretend that it wasn’t the date aspect of it, as the entire evening was a date. Perhaps he thought it would have been more fun walking around the city and visiting new spots with him. Maybe it wouldn’t have ended in the way it did. Doing all of those fun activities, trying to squeeze in a joke that would have landed better with him. Certainly, it wouldn’t have led to one too many shots they had planned to end the night with before promptly puking all over his date's shoes. 

A glaring cliche, he was aware, but that is how it had gone. She was rightfully disgusted and left before he could ask her if they agreed on not seeing one another again. He had even forgotten her name halfway through. When he had gotten home, Will had just laughed and helped him clean up and get into bed. She wouldn’t have done that. She was a stranger. 

Will wasn’t a stranger and hadn’t been for as long as either of them could remember. Regardless, it was a date– a date he had told himself would have been better with his best friend and current roommate. 

A date with Will?

When those words had crossed his mind, Mike knew he was a goner.

The thought of Will being a current roommate instead of a permanent fixture in his home was another that he simply couldn’t grapple with. If he were to settle down, he would need a new place. One without Will, and he didn’t like that at all. It was simply impossible to think of. It simply wasn't going to happen.

Once he had thought of that, everything seemed to get harder. 

A month after his last and final date, telling himself the broad ocean of potential ‘fish in the sea’ had gone dry, and that he had no intentions of living separately from Will, he tried to justify it. Will and Mike had lived together for years by that point. They took turns doing the laundry, Will did most of the cooking and Mike the shopping as he was at the corner store. Salty and sweet was the agreed upon combo. Syrup on eggs, milk duds in their popcorn, orange chicken. There was also the fact that the both of them knew what the others' preferences were and didn’t have to hesitate on ordering anything. They knew in’s and out’s, compromised where need be and having to relearn that? Having to start something new when he was so comfortable in the routine? Unimaginable.

It was a good deal, he tried to tell himself. 

A month without a date, and Mike found other things about his situation that were in his opinion, less than ideal.

Will would always shower after he got home and had a horrible habit of not blow drying his hair and would always push it back from his forehead. While it would dry, Mike couldn’t help but steal glances at him. On Will’s side of the couch, with their nightly bowl of popcorn, Mike couldn’t focus on the tv. Will smiled at some parts, at least what Mike could see from his peripheral, he would chew on the edges of his lips, press his fingers against them and mindlessly rub his thumb against them.

The urge to place his lips against the smooth skin he had exposed pushing his hair back had been pressing him in on all sides, effectively trapped in the fantasy of it. Surely that could come off as friendly?

Was it friendly? This sent him down yet another spiral where he had to ask himself, of all of the three outings he had been on, did he feel that same urge? Buzzing around his head like an annoying bug? Wriggling into his ears and settling into his brain? No. It hadn’t crossed his mind even once. 

So why had he gone in the first place? He came to the conclusion that it was because it was something you did. Something he had heard Dustin had been doing, that Hopper had done, that in one point in time his parents did. Trying new things, trying to find that one person that everything made sense with. 

Mike was sure that you couldn’t have two or more people to do that, and Will was already that person. When the both of them had decided against a higher education, they had only briefly spoken about finding a place together. Like it was a given, like it was supposed to happen. They never thought twice about it. How was he supposed to tell this supposed girl that she would never compare to the bond he had with the boy across the hall?

He couldn’t. So that was that. And there was his forehead, again. Creased in concentration, his lip soft and pink under his butter slicked thumbs.

Mike had noticed that more frequently. Worryingly so. He made an effort to make sure their hands didn’t cross in the popcorn bowl, as he wasn’t sure what it would do. Do to what? He supposed, what it would do to him. Will and Mike hadn’t been shy about affection when they were young, but with age and scrutiny, it became abundantly clear that any touch propelled by innocent affection, had an undertone of something undesirable. Something that boys shouldn’t do.

Mike never liked that line of thinking, but he drew it anyway. Slowly, over time, they had stopped holding hands, stopped hugging, and stopped sharing a bed. Mike thought back to those times. The quiet ache to have him close again, his hands itching to find the calloused skin of Will’s artist's hands. The cold that came from slipping up, the both of them pulling away before someone else made it into something it was not.

Sleepovers became obsolete, they had respective sides of the couch when alone. It didn’t stop the gravity they seemed to share. Despite the distance, there were always secret unacknowledged touches. Simply accidents truly, but Mike adored them quietly. He became a master at playing it off. Bumping elbows walking side by side, finding a spot next to Will whilst squeezing in with the party so their sides touched, finding his eyes in a room as they reached a silent agreement on whatever the topic was.

Quiet affection, ones that couldn’t become twisted by prying eyes. Unfortunately, they couldn’t help but look. He mourned the time when he could cuddle up with him, as Mike was genuinely craving the affection he could give him. The closeness that had been bridged between them until it was nothing at all.

Then he had thought to himself, was it just because they were close? Was it the ease he had with him that he loved the idea of it? Surely not. He didn’t want to cuddle up with any of the other members of the party. He tried to tell himself it was because Will was a clean and tidy person. That not one time had he ever caught an unpleasant smell coming off of him. 

But that wasn’t the case. Surprisingly from a group of nerds, all of them took pride in their hygiene and appearance. Dustin was a bit questionable at times, especially the Snow Ball when his hair was higher than all of their heads and reeked of hairspray. 

He quickly moved on from the idea that it had been about the longevity of their friendship or hygiene practices. Will was… Soft. In every way a person could be, he noticed. His features were rounded and pleasant, even the edges of his teeth rounded out, giving him bunny teeth when he would smile. His tone of voice, the way he would speak and Mike could always hear the quiet breath that came with it. The pout of his lips when he was sleeping, his smooth skin year round. He hadn’t even seen him peeling from a sunburn, not one time. Like the sun was easy on him, his flesh absorbing the rays gracefully until there was a warm glow cascading over him.

Maybe it was the way the sun caught in his hair, reflecting warm strands of gold Mike compared to the early morning rays sneaking through his blinds. Or the way his hair would dry into a silky halo over his head, his eyes still a bit red from the harsh city water.

Will was gentle with everything as well. With his belongings, with his interactions. Mike had to admit there were times when Will would become prickly. Rolling his eyes when the offender wasn’t looking, a frustrated huff of breath exhaled through the tension in his shoulders when he was frustrated. But it seemed to be layered with the softest of blankets, silkened with the calm that would wash over him after he took a minute to breathe.

It was different. He tried to convince himself that it was because he’d known Will the longest out of all of them, this was the only thing about his friendships that seemed to be different. It was becoming harder to convince himself of anything. Harder to tell himself that he only noticed these things because Will was important to him, a permanent placeholder for everything that seemed to comfort him. Pure, the comfort was pure and the thought of trying to replicate it with anyone else, was a fruitless endeavor.

He didn’t let himself think about this all too much.

That was when his line of thinking began to take a terrifying turn. He asked himself if the qualities he saw in Will had to do with the fact that he was Will, or that he was a man. That thought was terrifying. Perhaps he had been looking at the wrong sort of people. Maybe he didn’t like girls as much as he thought he did. Did he even like girls? Did they do it for him?

When he started to think like this, he was stricken with the lack of thought he had for women. When passing them on the streets of Chicago, around three months after his last attempt at ‘finding love’, he would let his eyes wander towards both men and women. In his mind, he thought to himself, of course they were attractive, but they weren’t his type.

Then his mind asked him, what's your type then? And Mike was once again stricken that he didn’t have one, but if he did… well… they would look like Will. He realized he had never settled on having a ‘type’, but once he did, there was only one that would do.

When he made this realization, it had been during morning coffee. Before their showers, faces puffy with sleep, the air quiet and warm between them. Will’s hair had been particularly messy that day, and his eyes kept drifting. He would bring his mug to his lips, tilting his head as they both watched the city wake and begin for the day. That morning, Will had looked at something, a gasp leaving his lips before he looked at Mike and pointed out of their window.

When Mike had looked, the sun had been catching on the sides of the buildings, warm burnt oranges, cerulean blue reflections casting light against the sky line, the sun barely lifting before gifting the earth the purest forms of gold. Summer had finally begun.

On that morning, though Will was silently showing him one of the prettiest sunrises that either of them could have watched in the city, he found himself struggling to look away from him. He watched his eyes move, knowing that soon enough, once their cups had drained, he would perch in front of that window and capture it with the tips of his fingers gripping a pencil.

What was he to do with the information that he would rather look at Will than stunning glimpses of nature that they hardly saw in a concrete jungle? What was he to do with the fact that if he could bottle those rays in a jar, that even that wouldn’t be a good enough gift for the boy beside him? That he would figure out how to capture the sun for him, just so he could look longer?

It would have been futile, as light always seemed to be drawn to him. Whether it was the soft yellow from the lamp in their living room, the flashing colors of their tv, the sterile blue glow from the refrigerator when he would grab them more drinks. Always back lit, always highlighted, always aglow. Mike was convinced that his smile could move clouds, his laughter could shake the remaining water from the sky.

He had looked for women, he had looked for men, but none could compare when Mike realized that Will was the source of light in his life. He had been for the longest time, and Mike had only realized now because everything was quiet. It was just them against the harsh city of Chicago. Mike tried not to dwell on this, and made quiet peace that though he had tried to find that special someone, he didn’t have to look far.

He asked himself why he didn’t realize sooner, why he didn’t seize this opportunity. He decided it was because of the dangers their childhoods had presented. How could he see it when death was breathing down their necks?

He thought he had realized it with El. He learned that the feelings he supposedly had reflected more so with the rest of the party. It was easy for him to place her in that box of friendship. He was finding it all the more difficult to do that with Will. Once his mind had decided that he was the human embodiment of light, that he wanted to live his life with Will, it didn’t take all that long for his heart to decide that for him. In fact, he was sure that it was his head getting in the way, his heart was already there.

He only knew that, because he had expected there to be some fundamental visceral change when he had made this discovery. He discovered it had simply been another Tuesday in June. Nothing had changed in his chest, and he made peace with it. He didn’t name it, he couldn’t name it, but it was there. It was warm and present in every interaction with him.

In August, Mike found himself holding his limbs back from the things he had truly wanted. Ruffle his hair, kiss him on the forehead, hugging him when he wants to. And secretly, in the night though he knew Will couldn’t read minds, he had started to think of the texture of his lips. What they tasted like after he brushed his teeth, if they felt as soft as they had looked, if they would move against his own with the same quiet urgency.

If Mike had placed his thumbs over his lips, would they be warm? If his mouth replaced the tips of his fingers, would he feel something he hadn’t felt before?

Mike stewed in it.

So, in late August, he had asked himself whilst walking down the street, would I want to kiss her? Would I want to kiss him? Would I share my morning coffee in the same peaceful silence? Would they ever begin to compare?

Mike struggled with the word no for a long time, and he found himself unsettled that it was the answer to every single one.

He asked himself those same questions. Do I want to kiss him? Kiss Will? Would I share those mornings with him for the rest of my life? Does anyone compare to you?

The answer was always yes.

He let himself feel it through until September, asking himself at the beginning and end of every day, and his answers remained. He let it sit and simmer, unsure of what to do with any of it. He was too scared to say anything, not when he wasn’t sure. But as the days went, the weeks ended, as a new season would start, the longing would increase.

He opted for not thinking about it at all. Not looking for longer than he should have, not letting himself think of anything. He threw himself into work and found that it had always made things worse, as he only longed to be home on the couch with him instead.

Months had passed and fall had been creeping in for some time. Will had gone out with some of his colleagues for a Halloween party, one Mike had to decline because he had to work. Will pulled all of the stops, wearing a button down with three loose clasps at the top, a small trickle of blood on his pale painted face. A vampire, he had told Mike. 

He tells himself that the flush on his cheeks was from a new found phobia, not the light gloss Will was wearing. He tried not to ask himself if it was a strawberry or peach flavor, maybe there was no flavor at all.

It continued like this, for another few months.

Will drinking coffee. Will whistling as he got ready for work, Will coming home from work, Will curled up on the couch. Sketching, watching tv, doing a puzzle, cooking dinner. He was consumed with the thought of him day in and day out. He found it harder to keep his hands to himself, the only thing holding him back being the sanctity of their friendship, of their routine, terrified to ruin it.

They never spoke in the mornings. Will was always up before him, making his coffee just how he liked it. Piping hot with a dash of cream and a small bit of sugar to combat the bitter drink. On this morning, Mike had woken to the sound of Will humming in the kitchen. They hadn’t discussed their dating life, Mike unsure if Will was even venturing out like he had during the year. He broke the silence of their routine Coffee and Contemplation to be honest.

“I don’t think dating is for me.” His heart was pounding, his eyes begging to leave the creamy surface of his drink to look over to him, to read his face and see what he thought about it. Mike let his eyes wander, seeing the slight tension in his shoulders, the small crinkle of his lip before he took another sip, licking the remnants with a quick swipe of his tongue.

“No?” Will had said, an edge of surprise in it. Mike shook his head with a smile, drinking the rest of his cup. He hadn’t meant to, but Will had this center of gravity. When he approached, he didn’t walk around him, keeping that distance like he usually did. He stood in front of him, noticing the hitch in his breath, the white knuckled grip he had on his cup. 

Mike looked at his forehead again after rinsing, and his mouth couldn’t resist it anymore. He looked down and smiled at him, felt his heart begin to race as he pressed his lips there, everything locking into place, his hands itching to pull him in for a hug. But he kissed him once, and panicked, before making his way into the bathroom.

Whilst standing in front of the sink, Mike’s smile never faded, his cheeks a stark crimson against his pale skin, his heart fluttering in his chest. He hadn’t backed away, he hadn’t been disgusted by it. He was the same old Will, flustered against their kitchen sink.

Maybe it wasn’t as scary as he thought it was.

///

The week thereafter, Mike hadn’t found the courage to do it again, even though he wanted to. Now that his lips had felt his skin, they only longed to do it again. Over and over as long as Will would let him. He knew that it had made Will feel some type of way, that things had only changed minutely, a silent shift in body language when Mike entered the room, tensing when Mike got too close. Mike kept his distance at that point. If it had bothered Will beyond the slight shift in their dynamic, Will didn’t mention it. 

The curious part of himself wanted to ask him what he thought, how he felt about it. But Mike hardly found anything to do with Will straight forward.

Mike had decided that he was going to ask in a round about way, one that would get him some answers his own mind had been asking him, the other to gauge Will’s reaction.

Whilst they watched gremlins, the smell of thick butter flooding his nose, there were questions plaguing his mind as the Mogwai sang its familiar tune though the spotty speakers of their second hand tv set.

“What does it feel like to be gay?” He blurts. He looks over then, seeing Will looking at him in confusion, Mike hopes that he appears to be keeping his cool, that this was just an innocent question about Will’s feelings, that he wasn’t letting on that he was using Will’s experience to map out his own. Perhaps he had insight into these things, of course he did. Mike had never even thought about it until living with Will. 

“I-I guess… It’s the same way it feels to be straight just… with guys.”

Guys… Well, that wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear but Mike wasn’t exactly sure what he had been expecting. Of course Will liked guys. Mike-

Well, he supposed he couldn’t run from it. He liked Will. Not guys.

Mike ponders this for a moment, nodding his head slightly as he battled the brewing jealousy within him. The thought of Will looking at another man, kissing another man. He suddenly realized that Will’s reality was different from his own. Mike was foolishly under the impression that Will was in the same boat as him. That he liked their life together and the thought of any sort of space or separation between them was unimaginable. Mike didn’t want to do this without Will, it didn’t mean Will felt that way. 

Maybe Will was thinking of a relationship he might start, the places he might move to with someone else. It was bitter, it was coating his tongue and Mike didn’t like the idea of it. Had Will been on dates? Had he been branching out? Finding his person? Was it so bold to assume that that was who they were to each other? Maybe it was. 

He was unaware of Will’s dating life and was too scared to ask. Was Will waiting for his special someone? Was Mike not even in the running?

Mike was getting ahead of himself, he was sure. Will had been open about every other aspect of his life, Mike knew that if there were prospects or dating or something else, that Will would have told him about it. 

But could he truly be sure? He couldn’t be. Maybe Mike didn’t allow him the room to. Maybe Mike didn’t make a comfortable space for him to talk about it. Mike couldn’t sit there and blame Will for trying, as he had as well. With women, not men, but nonetheless, Will was allowed to do whatever he wanted to. 

“Would you ever kiss a girl?” Mike asks him suddenly, knowing he had done that at one point in his life, and it was a pale comparison to the forehead kiss a week prior to this conversation. Mike knew at this point that he wouldn’t. He was coming to an exhilarating realization that he didn’t want to kiss anyone but Will.

Mike looks over to him then, fidgeting with his hands and hoping to god that Will didn’t notice. Will shakes his head in response, swallowing thickly, his eyes darting towards the tv as he did. 

Mike shoots out the next question, not really thinking of Will’s experience, only thinking of his own.

“Why not? Don’t you wanna like… know if you like it?” Please don’t see through me, Mike pleads with Will in his mind. Will’s eyes dart around for a moment before his eyes settle on Mike once more. 

‘I like it when you look at me, don’t stop looking at me, don’t look for someone else.’

Mike swallows thickly, picking at his cuticles.

He watches as Will pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, his lips a glossy pink. Mike swallows again.

“I- I don’t- I mean… I just.. I know I wouldn’t like it.” Will averts his gaze, his cheeks beginning to flush. 

Mike lets out a quiet sigh, knowing how that felt only in a different way. He knew what it felt like to have a distaste of kissing people, only, Will had the simplicity of not kissing girls. Mike didn’t want to kiss anyone else.

“I don’t think I know.” Mike looks back over to the tv, stilling the movement of his hands at the admission. This was his way of telling Will that if he felt the same, he’s on the market. In fact, he was already spoken for, reserved and on hold for him. Surely this would tell Will exactly what Mike was thinking. They had a way of reading each other's minds, not needing to say much. Surely Mike had said enough by now?

That he didn’t want to date other people, that he was thinking about kissing guys. Well, kissing Will to be clear.

“Know what?” Will asks him quietly. Mike feels a small smile start on his lips.

“If I wouldn’t like it. Don’t people say try it before you say you don’t like it?” He smiles, looking over again, thinking of Argyle.

‘Try before you deny.’ He doesn’t think Will gets the joke and doesn’t feel like clarifying. Will gently bites the inside of his lips, deep in thought. He gives Mike a subtle nod, not sure if he noticed he was doing it or not. It was… Well, it was cute.

“Um… Yeah, I guess. Where is this coming from?” Will turns to fully face him, giving Mike his full attention.

Mike thinks of spilling everything he was thinking at this very moment, of telling Will the truth and opening up. Instead, in fear, he shrugs.

“Just been thinking about it.” Mike answers him. It was true, he wasn’t lying. But he was by omission. But at this point, he wasn’t sure how Will felt about any of it. Just because Will was gay didn’t mean he felt the same way, no matter how much Mike wished it to be true.

“About kissing guys?” 

“No.” Mike admits. It was closer than he would have liked to the truth. He watches as Will tilts his head, and Mike knows from that look alone that he wasn’t catching on. It was a relief and also a bit frustrating. Will wasn’t understanding what Mike was trying to say. Mike wasn’t entirely sure what he was planning to get out of the conversation either. Was he trying to confess in some stupid round about way? He knew Will could usually decipher anything Mike might be trying to tell him, but it seems that he’s hit a grey area that Will hadn’t thought about before. 

Mike looks at him a moment longer, seeing him pondering his next thought.

“Okay, then what were you thinking about?” Will let out a dry laugh and Mike was struggling to figure out what was funny about any of it. Maybe he needed to be clearer. Maybe he needed to open up a bit more, let a little more slip through.

“Well… about trying it, but not like… guys.” He hopes Will gets it now. Who else was he close to that he could possibly think about kissing?

No one. That was the answer. He spent every bit of his free time with Will. Waited for him to come home, woke up to him moving through the house, counted the minutes until they had their uninterrupted movie time with Will. It had to be obvious.

“Okay, then what? A specific guy?”

Mike’s heart skips a beat as Will’s leg moves closer, the sound of his laughter sending a chill down his spine. Did he appear as nervous as he felt? Mike was riddled with nerves, because he could clear it up now.

He doesn’t. He chokes, he gets scared.

“You could say that.” Let that be enough, please let that be enough he thinks to himself. He looks at him intently, waiting for Will’s realization. That had to have done it, that had to be it. He had to know by now. Wasn’t he being glaringly obvious? Did Will not notice the way he looked at him?

Will’s face falls for a moment before Mike sees his expression change, far too fast for Mike to catch it, to decipher it.

“I mean, there’s no harm in trying.”

But there was. If Mike wasn’t certain, it could ruin this. What they had. At the same time, Will was technically giving Mike permission to try. Not now, he was already a nervous wreck and he didn’t want to ruin their evening.

But he knew what he needed to do. Will didn’t know, maybe instead of trying and failing to talk about it, he could just try it. Show him.

“Maybe.” Is all he chooses to say, even though all he wanted to do was spill the popcorn and his guts by crossing the couch and kissing him right then and there.

Silence settles, and they finish their movie. But the entire time, sitting next to the boy he longed to kiss, he couldn’t help but look at him instead of the screen.

///

Mike was trying to find an opening to kissing Will. In some way or form, and had mustered up the courage the next morning. Over coffee, he stood farther away from him than usual, trying to keep his head clear. He knew that standing too close would send his mind wandering in a dangerous fashion. How would he do it? Would he ask? Would he just lean in and see where it went? What if Will truly didn’t catch on to what Mike was trying to tell him and didn’t want him to kiss him at all?

So when Will had been sitting in his room reading, Mike was pacing the living room floor. He looked into the cupboards, decided that they probably needed to shop for groceries before pacing again, the food list taking a back burner. Surely he should have acted now? How exactly was he supposed to go about it? He couldn’t figure it out, and it was frustrating him beyond belief. 

He would just do it then. He had thought about it enough, walking in and grabbing him by the soft skin of his cheeks, pressing his lips against his and tasting their breakfast on his breath. Feeling the hitch of his breath, perhaps he would melt into it. Maybe he would kiss him back. He wouldn’t know if he didn’t try. So that's just what he had to do. No more thinking, only action.

He walked into Will’s room with purpose, bound and determined to kiss this boy and show him how he was feeling. But upon seeing Will’s innocent attentive face when Mike entered the room, he blushed harder than he had ever done before and left the room. He went to the bathroom instead, rinsing his face with cold water and cursing under his breath that he couldn’t just go in and do it.

“Just… just fucking kiss him, it’s not like you haven’t done this before. You kissed El out of nowhere, what’s so different about this?”

Maybe it was the pressure he had felt to kiss her. She was pretty, they were young, it was expected of him.

This wasn’t. This is what he truly wanted. Not to mention, there were more stakes with Will. He was his best friend and they were signed onto a lease together that was going to last another several months before it was up. At the end of that time, Will could very well decide that he wanted to move out. Not that either of them could afford to live without a roommate, but it didn’t change the fact that his home and his friendship and his routine was at risk by doing this. 

The next day, Mike talked himself up again. He walked into the living room watching Will sketch the snowy city below them, his brows knitted in concentration, smoothing out to look at Mike. He had raised an eyebrow in question and again, Mike had chickened out, storming out of the room and getting ready for his shift instead.

That night, Will had gone to bed early and Mike sat in the kitchen, sipping a cup of water and deciding that maybe it was for the best that he didn’t straight up kiss him. That was when his plan unfolded. It would take time, but his last relationship didn’t last from kissing her out of the blue. He would ease into it. Maybe, if he took it slow enough, Will could develop feelings for him. 

Slow and steady wins the race is what everyone had always told him, Mike wasn’t good at that. He was impulsive and the only thing holding him back from storming into Will’s room was the fact that this wouldn’t be done best when Will was tired.

But then came the fact of how slow was slow? How was he supposed to start this plan if he didn’t know where he should begin?

He was distracted during their morning coffee, Will had gone to work and come home. They ate a light meal, Will getting their movie set up while Mike made their snacks. Perhaps he could try something tonight? Sit closer to him? Mike pours the butter over, adding the milk duds and skilfully shaking the bowl to mix it all together before walking into the living room. Just as Mike goes to sit down, Will starts to speak.

“Are you okay?” Mike freezes for a moment before remembering he was supposed to keep cool and calm and collected. He shrugs instead, walking over to his seat. He grabs a large handful before speaking.

“Why do you ask?” He shoves in a large mouthful, probably too much, the kernels getting stuck in his teeth and lightly scratching the roof of his mouth. Will purses his lips to the side, looking down at the bowl and rubbing his pretty little fingers together.

“You look like you’re in pain.” Will says, grabbing a piece of candy and eating it. Mike wipes his hand along his already grease stained pyjama pants giving him a small smile.

“I’m fine. Promise.” He wasn’t fine, and now he was immensely thirsty, the kind of thirsty that demanded a drink. A fizzy one. Will nods flipping through channels. With Mike's greasy and shaky hands, he reaches for his glass just to have it spill all over his blanket and the soft lush carpet of their living room rug.

“Fuck-” Mike was completely mortified. If Will believed his lie that he was fine, he surely didn’t know. Mike huffs and Will springs into action. 

“Just-just use the blanket to soak it up, it's already dirty anyway.” Moving to the kitchen.

Once Mike’s embarrassment was sopped up in his throw blanket and probably too many paper towels, Mike moves to the end of the couch, knowing he would have to suffer through their tv time a shivering mess. 

The heating worked, but with the open plan kitchen, the gaps in the window panes and the brutal Chicago winters, their bedrooms were the only part of the house that stayed warm enough not to warrant extra layers and a blanket. He sits down, curling up and debating grabbing a sweater or an extra pair of socks as they had been soaked when he stepped in it, but just sits down instead, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself.

Mike sits there for only a moment before he hears Will on the other end of the couch. 

“We can share?” He half asks, half tells him. Mike looks over at him, a bit shocked but this- this was the perfect opportunity. He could be close to him, he could touch him. He’s sure that Will expected for them to sit together as they normally did, but Mike had almost a year's worth of pent up frustration and distance and he just wanted to be near him. Hold him. Smell him, as any hint of it he got was in passing or during the mornings they would spend.

Mike scoots over the couch. He wastes no time, curling into Will’s side, throwing his legs over Will’s and hugging him close. He smells of their laundry detergent, the subtle bite of his aftershave mixed with the smell of cold. His scent was reminiscent of stepping outside after a blizzard, not a single footprint visible on the blanket of snow. He smelled like home. 

Mike takes a deep breath, his body relaxing into Will as he hears the tremor of his heart beating wildly in his chest. Mike doesn’t move other than his breathing, and neither does Will. They don’t speak of it, and Mike is dreading the moment that this would come to an end. They hadn’t cuddled up close like this since they were small children, Mike wished they had never stopped. 

As the night went, Mike let his thumbs draw small circles into Will’s sides, feeling his eyes lull with exhaustion and pure comfort. 

Just as Mike began to drift off, he felt Will nudge him, Mike’s head shooting up and knocking him in the chin.

Will goes to curse, Mike apologizing but he hears none of it. He pulls away slightly, his eyebrows furrowing, his thumb finding the spot he had wanted to touch for ages. He debates with himself. Does he kiss him now? Was this the time to do it? No. Will was tired, he didn’t want to do it when they were tired. If he was going to kiss him full on the mouth, it would have to be better than this.

Mike looks into Will’s eyes for only a moment, before gently pressing a kiss against the underside of his chin, making it quick. Mike’s lips tingle, and his thumb moves to the mole just above his mouth. He wanted to kiss him there, but he told himself that was for another day.

“Sorry,” Mike whispers, his heart still racing. “I kissed it better.” He finishes, before untangling himself before he becomes impulsive again. When Mike got to his bedroom, he licked at his bottom lip, pressing his thumb to his mouth, knowing that Will’s lips had been there.

He falls asleep with a sweet smile, knowing Will hadn’t pulled away. That had to have meant something.

Early the next morning, after Mike had started the next load of laundry, he noticed his throw blanket in the dryer. He grabs it, throwing it deep into his closet. As long as it was still cold out, maybe Will would invite him to his side of the couch again. Mike closes the closet door, before making his way out into the kitchen, his coffee already ready, Will perched on the counter with an easy smile.

///

It had been several days of cuddling on the couch with Will, each time, Mike’s heart would race when Will would ask him over, before Will stopped asking because Mike just curled up with him before he could. He never asked where the blanket had gone, and Mike was thankful. It bloomed a new hope in his heart that maybe, just maybe, Will was just as happy that it had gone missing.

Mike needed to further the narrative, he was sure. His plan was if it got comfortable enough that they didn’t feel the need to discuss it, that he would try something new. It was nerve racking, but tonight, he had another thing that he had desperately wanted. 

When he would watch Will working with his hands, seeing the delicate care he took with things, Mike found himself imagining what it would be like atop his head. With his hair. Mike had always loved when Nancy would try to braid it when he was young, before Holly was born and before his mother could come near him with the sheers. His mother used to play with it when he was falling asleep, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be different when Will was doing it. 

When he walked into the living room, he set the bowl down and sat on the couch, before flipping onto his stomach, resting his head against Will’s lap. It was comfortable, the way they would cuddle, but Mike had gotten it out of his system and his legs were too long and too lanky to continue ruining his back doing it. Mike wraps his arms around him for a long moment, feeling Will start to slowly relax under him.

“Play with my hair.” He closes his eyes shut tight, biting his lip and hoping that Will does. He feels his fingers slowly begin to twist through, his blunt fingertips finding his scalp, gently scratching, twisting the strands between his fingers. Mike fears he might fall asleep so he turns and flips onto his back. He supposed it wasn’t fair that Will couldn’t eat, knowing the butter and salt would get into his hair but this provided an excuse to feed him something. Mike grabs the bowl, eating a couple of pieces, licking the salt off before getting some for Will, bringing the treat to his lips. Will said nothing, gently taking the snack between his lips, his hands still gliding through his hair. 

Every couple of bites, Mike lets his fingers linger there, loving the buzzing feeling that Will’s lips brought to the tips of his fingers. He doesn’t look away from the tv, he simply enjoys the sensation of feeling Will everywhere.

///

Mike was finding it harder and harder to part with Will when they went to their own bedrooms for the night. Several times over the past month or so, Mike had mustered up the courage to walk over to his door and knock, wanting to sleep in the same room as him. But he made up excuses as to why he shouldn’t several times. 

Will had work in the morning, Mike needed a shower, Will didn’t look up to it. Pitiful excuses that he hid his cowardice behind.

So, over the weeks with the ever growing urge to share a bed with Will, Mike imagined what it would be like. 

Holding him through the night, pulling him close and guarding his dreams with his presence. The warmth, the security, the comfort. He wanted it more than anything. Most of the time, they said nothing, moving in tandem to clean their messes before departing with a simple goodnight. When Will would turn off their television set, Mike would feel a dreaded disappointment settle in his chest, not liking the idea of sleeping alone again. 

So, that very night, as Mike became increasingly restless, begging their show to keep playing, begging himself to speak up and just ask him, Will presented the perfect opportunity.

“I’m gonna head to bed.” It was almost as if Will could sense his resistance to their evening's ending. Mike wanted to pout, storm to his room and slam the door for another night alone in his room, imagining what it would be like to share a room with the boy he longed for. 

“Can I come sleep with you tonight?” Mike blurts out, hoping Will can’t hear the desperation in his voice. Will stares at him a moment and Mike becomes nervous, twiddling his thumbs against his better judgment and praying to whoever could hear him that Will would say yes.

“Of course,” Will whispers, a closed mouth smile that makes Mike’s heart race. Mike gets up and walks straight into Will’s room. He remembers that he didn't clean up and becomes embarrassed by his own urgency and excitement. He wants to walk in and help, but his cheeks flare red, not wanting Will to catch on to just how desperate he actually was to share a bed with him. He settles into the mattress, surrounded by the concentrated scent of Will and faces the door, biting his lips to bits in anticipation. He hears the tv click off, he hears their abandoned drinks pouring down the sink, he hears Will approaching the door. 

Mike’s heart begins to race harder as Will enters the room, squinting his eyes so he could look at Will without getting caught staring. Will crosses the room, settling into the bed with his back to Mike, keeping what Mike would consider an unfair distance.

Mike, in his haze of sleep whilst drunk on the scent of Will filling his lungs, decides he wants to be closer. He was selfish in this right. Mike scoots across the bed slowly, sliding his hand around his middle, placing his sprawled palm over his heart. When he held his breath, he could feel the rampant pacing of his heart, and pushed himself closer, tangling their legs and stretching over the rest of the bed.

Mike nuzzles his nose against Will, feeling the sharp gasp before placing the warmth of his own lips against his skin. Soft soap, salty and warm. Mike wants to kiss it again. 

“Sorry… my nose is cold.” And he kisses him again, tucking his forehead onto the back of his neck and letting himself relax. He was warm all over, completely pliant and glad he finally wasn’t sleeping alone. 

///

Once Mike got a taste of what it was like to wake up next to Will, he couldn’t get enough. He asked him again, and again, until it was something unspoken. That of course they would share a bed. He trusted that if Will didn’t want this, that he would tell him so. The feeling of Will curled up in front of him was made even better when on the third day, he took off his shirt. Mike settles the feeling in his gut and in his chest when he does so, and decides to return the favor the next day, wanting to feel the expanse of his skin across his stomach. 

Now he couldn’t imagine falling asleep without the scent of him, without the soft skin of Will’s shoulders on his cheek, without his hair tickling at his forehead or the sweat between their hands that they refused to let go. He was simply in heaven, waking up to the cool rays of a Chicago’s winter sun cascading over their bodies, the chill once they separated, the silent peaceful mornings they would share after the nights they shared as well. It was almost everything that Mike wanted. 

Almost.

After a week of sharing a bed, Mike is shocked that Will lays in the bed facing him. Mike wasn’t sure what to do, too nervous to pull Will onto his chest, too nervous to sleep with Will staring at him. They share a quiet look, their arms brushing before Mike looks up to his forehead again, gentle wisps of his hair covering it, the soft sleepy look in his eyes. 

Mike couldn’t help it, he leaned forward, leaving a gentle kiss there, knowing his lips had to find a place on Will’s skin before he could sleep before turning around, too shy to face him afterwards.

Maybe Will didn’t want to cuddle anymore. Mike felt a bit sad about it, but he understood. Perhaps he was being too much. His heart flutters when he feels Will’s arm nudge under his own, the urgency to have him close and the excitement that Will wanted the proximity just as much. He places a kiss against his fingers, a silent thank you for his decision, for his willingness. His breathing settles with a satisfied sigh of relief.

The reciprocation nearly brings tears to his eyes. Will slips his leg between Mike’s, a flutter in his chest as he tries to keep his breathing even. He could feel the warmth of Will’s breath on his spine, the hair of his arms standing on end. 

And then, Will presses his cheek against him. Mike was shocked of course, his body reacting before his mind could keep up. He relaxes into it, biting his lip to hide the smile that Will had no way of seeing. He was absolutely giddy with excitement.

Once Will places his lips against his skin, Mike furrows his eyebrows, relishing in the feeling. Up to this point, he hadn’t kissed him in any sort of way, and Mike had stopped doing it besides his nightly kiss between his shoulder blades, the lingering one against his brow before he had turned over. 

And as Will places another, Mike feels the well of hope in his chest beginning to fill, nearly spilling over when Will keeps his mouth there, only flesh and bone stopping him from handing Will the organ in his chest that belonged to him. 

He couldn’t think it yet, but he knew he was falling, only hoping Will was with him.

///

It took everything in Mike to stop his lips from blabbing all of the things that had been on his mind over the month of getting closer and closer to Will. It was exhilarating, and the thought of dinner and a movie with the person he wanted to spend all of his time with was the only thing getting him through his day.

It was becoming concerning that the constant repetition of Mike’s thoughts were all bits and pieces of moments shared with Will, what they would do next, what line Mike could push in hopes to kiss him one day. Closer, closer, closer, is all he wanted. 

He thought about it in the shower, ones he knew he had to take and dreaded all the same because that meant at least ten to fifteen minutes wasted that he could be making a proper move to make Will like him. He was making progress, but he was also becoming impatient.

On the chilly walk across the street, Mike tucked his hands into his pockets, grasping at a napkin in his left to keep his hands warm. He was starving, he missed Will more than he would ever tell him, and he was itching to get home and shower. 

When he got to the door, he could hear a soft humming, the sound of a frying pan, knowing Will was up and he was cooking. As Mike enters their shared home, Will immediately perks up. 

“Hey, how was work?-” Mike kicks off his shoes and his jacket, making his way over. He looked at the small of his waist, the way his shirt was hanging off of him, his socked feet hidden underneath his flannel pajama pants. He looked warm, he looked cozy, Mike wasn’t either of those things. Maybe he should have thought better about it, but he goes up to him anyway, too tired and cold to think better of it. 

“I’m using yesterday's dinner to-” Mike wraps his arms around him, a shiver running the length of his sore spine from the warmth of Will and the burners on in front of him. 

“Smells good.” Mike tells him, wrapping his arms tighter. The only way he would feel that Will was close enough, was if he tucked himself into his skin, he was sure of it. 

Will says something to which Mike doesn’t know, and when it feels like he’s about to pull away, he pulls his hands back, tucking it into his chest and pressing his lips to his neck. He starts to play with Will’s fingers, relishing in the shudder he felt from Will’s back against his chest, his fingers warming against Will’s.

“I missed you.” He tells Will. 

“I missed you too.”

Mike would never get used to hearing that. He feels Will reciprocates, after asking him a question but Mike was basking in his warmth, dreading the separation between them. He had done nothing but think about Will for the entire day, wanting just what they were doing at this very moment to last into the night.

“Wanna eat in the living room?”

After a moment, Mike’s thoughts catch up to him, humming and giving Will his awaited reply.

“In a minute… You’re warm.”

He wanted to kiss his neck again, liking the feeling of Will’s pulse jumping underneath his lips, but alas he was in need of a shower before he dug into his spoils of eating a homecooked meal made special for him and the cuddles of the boy he didn’t want to let go. 

“I’m gonna run through the shower really quick.” He would rather do anything but. Mike pulls away, seeing the soft pink hue on his face before placing a kiss on his forehead, ruffling his hair and walking to the bathroom with his heart beating out of his chest. 

During their meal, Mike kept his distance, but he longed to sit shoulder to shoulder with him, to kiss him on the temple and hold his hand when they were finished. 

The thoughts didn’t end there, over the days, no matter what Will was doing, Mike would ask himself what he could do to get closer.

Over the weeks, they shared the same bed, Mike bringing more of his things in. He wanted Will to say something, anything, because it was getting harder and harder to keep quiet. He wanted to look him in his beautiful hazel eyes and tell him the truth. He had feelings for him. Strong ones that were bursting at the seams of his mouth that he didn’t know what to do with. 

Work was tedious, phone calls home were as well. He knew that eventually, after months of this affection and nearly a year after he was finally allowing himself to see the truth, he knew that he needed to blurt to someone before everything got to be too much. 

Mike went through their small little notebook containing numbers of their friends and families, flipping through it until he got to the H’s, Dustin Henderson being the one to call. Dustin was an even buffer. Fourth member to enter the party, not as cynical as Lucas or as brazen as Max, he was the perfect person to call. 

He enters the number slowly, not wanting to mess it up until the familiar trill of the dial tone fills his ears and makes his hands twitch. He was a nervous wreck, as over the time he had been coming to these realizations, he hadn’t spoken the feelings out loud. Not to himself, not to anyone. It was eating him up, however, and after almost two months of barely being able to contain it, when all he wanted was to spill his guts to Will, he needed to vent about it.

The phone was picked up after the third ring, and he hears Dustin's cheery voice laced with exhaustion. He was the safe pick. Always the mediator, always level headed and understanding. He needed this.

“Dustin Henderson speaking.” It was simple, practiced, but a cooling relief settles over his shoulders upon hearing his voice. 

“Hey Dustin, It’s Mike.” He nearly quivers over the phone line. 

“Mike? Holy shit, Wheeler?” He questions over the line. Mike rolls his eyes, leaning against the cold wall of the living room with a soft smile. 

“Know a lot of Mike’s or something?” He jokes, twisting the cord between his fingers.

“Well, not exactly but I haven’t heard from you or Will since Easter. I called.” He quips. Mike purses his lips, knowing that he wasn’t exactly being the leader he was supposed to be, not keeping the party together or connected. 

“Sorry. Been busy.” It was a lame excuse. He would get into what had been keeping him busy once the formalities were over with. 

“How's MIT?” Mike asks him, and Dustin goes on a long tangent, telling him things he wouldn’t understand and tries in his best fashion to explain it to Mike. Mike nodded along, missing the never ending spout of information that Dustin seemed to have. He talked about his classes, the projects and theories they had discussed, talked about going home for winter break which Will and Mike had to unfortunately decline as they both needed to work through the holidays. 

“I have a feeling you didn’t call to catch up,” Dustin tells him after a while.

“Well, that wasn't the entire point.” Mike mutters, licking at his bottom lip and shifting his weight to the other leg. 

“I feel honored.” Dustin chuckles. Mike furrows his eyebrows. 

“What do you mean, honored? You don’t even know why I called.”

“Well, I’m assuming it's something personal, something you're avoiding. You’ve barely talked about life in Chicago since we’ve been on the phone. And I know that you’re a nerd, but you aren’t exactly on my level.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” Mike smiles. 

“If you want to.” He can hear his smile over the phone. Mike sighs, before rounding the couch to settle where Will sat, leaning back until he was fully sprawled over the couch.

“Why do you feel honored?” Mike whispers, staring at the ceiling. 

“You usually talk to Will about this stuff.” Dustin says simply. Mike huffs, digging his fingers against his eyes until he saw colors before sighing.

“I can’t talk to him about it.” Mike relents. 

“Hmm. Why not?” Dustin asks curiously. Mike chews at the skin of his lips, his heart racing, palms sweating before he finally speaks again. 

“It’s… It’s about him.” Mike whispers. He knew that Will was at work and wouldn’t be home until around 7pm, but he still felt nervous saying it. Like Will could still hear him. Maybe the walls would tell him later. It was all stupid, but stranger things had happened to them.

“Does he suck as a roommate or something?” He hears shuffling from the other end of the phone, a light huff from Dustin. He imagined him sprawling on his bed, top bunk on the right side he had said. He imagined seeing movie posters on his wall, the messy clothes hanging out of his drawers, a stray pencil or two stabbing into his legs as he always studied in bed.

“Or something… I guess. It’s kind of, of both I guess?” Mike says.

“So, you called to vent about Will? Does he- I don’t know, like… is he messy or something?”

Mike laughs a bit. 

“We’re talking about Will here.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Do you remember third grade when he had that dried up milk cup next to his bed? The man isn’t innocent.”

“Yes, obviously I know that. I don’t have any qualms about living with him. He’s… He’s perfect.” Mike whispers the last sentence, the truth pushing further and further out of his mouth. He was terrified. He knew that his friends were all accepting and loving. That wasn’t what he was worried about. They had faced far scarier things, far more disturbing things than two of their friends being gay. 

“Okaaay, then what’s up? If he’s perfect and you aren’t venting, then what is it? Does he have an annoying boyfriend or something?”

“No, Will doesn’t have a boyfriend.” Mike knew right then and there that he had been too defensive, too quick to anger at the thought of it. 

“Jeez, Will’s single. Got it. What else could possibly be bothering you?” 

“He sucks as a roommate, because I don’t want him to- to just be my roommate."

“Well, he isn’t. He’s also your best friend.”

“I don’t want him to just be that either.” Mike’s pulse jumps and his mouth goes dry as the words leave his mouth. Dustin remains quiet on the line, only the sound of rustling and his breathing heard over the line. 

“Oh.” Dustin says. 

“Yeah. Oh.”

“You mean…” Dustin starts, almost afraid to say it it seems. So was Mike, however. He was terrified to speak the words. To utter one of the most damning truths he had ever discovered about himself. 

“Yes.” Is all he says. 

“So… You’re gay then?” Dustin asks him, a slight lift in his tone towards the end.

“No. I don’t- I don’t find um… Other men um… attractive… I guess.” Mike feels a cold dread settle over his skin, his brow sweating, his hands fidgeting around the cord and turning his fingers a concerning color of purple. He untangles his fingers, gulping audibly as he waits for Dustin to speak again. 

“So, you only like… Will.” Dustin tone was careful. It wasn’t harsh, it wasn’t assuming, it was exactly what Mike needed. 

“Yeah.” Mike whispers back, rubbing the feeling back into his pointer finger, trying not to fidget anymore. 

“Right, okay. So, when did this start?” Dustin was in investigator mode at this point, and Mike was grateful that he was asking questions, questions that could get to the bottom of his issue. 

“Well, I guess… about two months into living here, I um… I noticed it. But… I think… I think it’s always been there.”

“What made you realize this, then?” Dustin asks him. Mike bites at his bottom lip. 

“I was going on dates and… and when I was out, it was like… I would have rather done it with him or… or not gone at all.” Mike admits. 

“Right. So, are you like… In love with him then? You want to be with him?”

These questions almost snap the willingness of this conversation shut tight. Mike feels himself retreating, unsure why it brought such an ugly feeling forward.

“I-I-” Mike starts. His thoughts jumble, panic bubbling in his stomach and strangling his vocal chords.

“Hey, Mike… Calm down okay? If you are, that's okay. More than okay. You know that, right?”

Mike feels tears spring to his eyes, his nose burning as the lump in his throat begins to impose. It was a terrifying feeling. Knowing that Dustin had put it into perspective, knowing that that word – love – perfectly encapsulated the feeling that Mike had. Knowing that all this time, the feeling he had pushed down was for that very reason. That he didn’t know if it was okay. He was never told that it was. He had been shoving the feeling down, kicking it under a rug and closing it tight in a box for as long as he could remember. 

“I do…. I- I want to be with him I-” The words get caught in his throat again.

“You can say it. You’re allowed to say it.” Dustin's voice is calm, soothing and firm. 

“I love him.” He whispers quietly, like the words would burn his tongue and send him straight to hell if ever uttered. Once the words cross the air, once he feels the relief settling quietly over his chest, he falls apart. The dam behind his eyes burst, short sobs leaving his throat, the confession freeing him in a way he had never felt before. It was everything he needed to say, and he couldn’t be more thankful to Dustin that he had helped him get there.

“God, I love him. Fuck.” He chokes out, his tears cutting across the wide smile on his lips. Slowly, the sobs turn to laughter, the tears melt from sorrowful to elated, and he feels the tension the weight those words had been crushing him with evaporate from his skin, leaving his bones. He felt light. He felt whole. He felt… In love.

Mike didn’t know until that very moment how long those words collected dust. He was still scared to ever tell Will, but he had told someone. That had to be enough.

“Thank you.” Mike tells Dustin, wishing they were in the same room, wishing he could hug him. A bone crushing hug riddled with gratitude.

“Of course. Any time. I hate to like, cut this short but-”

“No, no of course. Busy body and all that. Thanks again Dustin… I really needed this.”

“I think I did too. Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Mike smiles at this.

“Promise.” He replies. 

His smile remains even as the line goes dead.