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Summary
“Why,” Will breathed heavily against Mike’s neck. He pushed on Mike's hand, rolled his hips down to try to press his fingers deeper. “Why did you stop? I— I’m really close,” he sighed. “Mike, please—”
“You have to be quiet,” Mike whispered. His own breathing was labored and sporadic.
He nudged Will's face, nosing along his jaw. Will looked up at him, his eyes wild; there was almost no green left.
“Can you be quiet for me?” He asked, pressing his lips close to Will's but not fully kissing him. “Will?”
“Yes,” he gasped, nodding. “Yes— just please keep going.”
ORThe tragic ordeal of being Mike Wheeler and Will Byers.
