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Will is convinced that summer is some form of social experiment led by the government to see how long people pretend to like it, because there’s no way anyone can genuinely feel at their happiest when the weather is trying to kill them.
Regardless, he sighs in relief as he walks through the doors to the art store, the cool caress of the air conditioner acting like a balm. Beside him, Mike makes a beeline for the trolleys, shooting him a decidedly devilish grin over his shoulder.
Will groans at his boyfriend, rolling his eyes good-naturedly as he follows him, watching with his hands on his hips as Mike folds himself into one of the trolleys. He looks up at Will eagerly, clearly in high spirits despite having had to walk under the hot sun for the past twenty minutes.
“Onward!” He declares, and Will is really glad the store is empty today, because he wouldn’t have given in to Mike on any other day.
(That is a lie. He would give Mike anything he wanted any day. No questions.)
Will braces his hands against the handle, wheeling Mike into a painting aisle before shoving him with enough speed to send him speeding down the corridor. He grins as Mike cackles in delight, warmth blooming across his cheeks at the sound.
He'd missed that these past few days – what with them being busy with their studies and deadlines and workload. Mike had taken the stress to a whole new level, unable to sleep or eat until he had finished all his work.
Mike slides to a stop at the end of the aisle, bracing himself against the shelf and looking back at Will expectantly. He shoots him a fond smile and shakes his head.
“Do it yourself,” he tells him, crouching down to inspect the various bottles of paint, “I’ve got some work to do.”
Mike pouts at him, but it disappears when he discovers that he can wheel himself onward into another aisle by pushing away from the shelf. A string of giggles reaches Will’s ears as his boyfriend goes forth on his journey.
Sighing, the blush still prominent on his cheeks, he looks back down at the bottles of paint in his hand – two different shades of blue, but he can’t decide which one he likes best.
A sudden vibrating ringtone cuts off his thoughts. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone to see Max’s contact photo flashing across the screen.
Max + 3 others are requesting a group call….
He sighs fondly, swiping his thumb across the green button. A ping and a swish later, four overlapping voices fill the silence of the aisle.
“Will!” chirps El, sounding delighted. She seems cheerful, no doubt having just woken up from her nap.
“Hey man!” Lucas shouts, sounding vaguely distracted, his connection dissolving into garbled static before clearing out again. “I’m at the barbeque thing with my parents, and I think Erica just managed to burn our third chicken.”
“It wouldn’t have burnt if you’d been watching it like I told you to, dingus!”
“When the hell did you even tell me to watch it?”
“Right fucking NOW!”
Will winces at her tone. Lucas is, no doubt, in trouble now. Max snickers and Will pictures her as she is – somewhere in her and El's shared apartment, probably curled up on the couch in front of the TV with the air conditioner on.
“WILL!” Dustin bellows, always on full volume regardless of who he’s talking to. “HEY MAN!”
“Dude!” Max complains, her irritation evident in her tone, “mind the volume, man.”
“Sorry! Hey Will! What’re you doing?”
Will smiles, setting the paint bottle down on the shelf. “Hey guys,” he pants, somehow still out of breath from the walk here. “I’m in Mich–”
He cuts himself off with a groan as his foot slips and he lands hard on the floor, phone slipping out of his hands just in time for him to miss the disgusted noises coming from everyone on the phone. Sucking in air through his teeth, he rubs at his back, muttering a low curse under his breath. He checks if the paint bottle had suffered damage, and upon finding none, goes to pick up his phone. A flashing message appears on the screen
You have been disconnected from the call. Click to rejoin.
Frowning, he clicks back on the tiny green button, still sitting on the floor. There’s the tell-tale swish of being added back to the call, and his friend’s voices fill the aisle immediately – frantic and very nearly panicking.
“Dude!” Dustin shouts, “Join the call after you guys have completed your personal business!”
“Man, I love you,” Lucas says, gentle but wary, “but I seriously do not want to be included in your voyeur shit, okay?”
“What the fuck are you–” Will starts, but he’s cut off by his sister.
“Will, we are like family, and while we do joke about you both, we do not want to know what you do in your personal time.”
“What–” he’s cut off yet again by Max’s shrieks.
“OH MY GOD WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU BACK ON THE CALL? Get. The fuck. OUT.”
Will blinks. His screen refreshes, the message flashing in bold blue and greens again.
You have been disconnected from the call. Click to rejoin.
“What the fuck…?” He mutters to himself, pressing his thumb down on the green button again. For a second, he looks up as Mike re-enters the aisle, pushing himself away from the shelves at top speed.
A swish. The pop-up window of the call reopens again.
“AHHH WILL!”
Will looks up just in time to see Mike barreling past him at top speed, yelling at the top of his lungs.
“Mike!” He calls after him, “Pace yourself, babe. You're going too fast, you're gonna get hurt!”
A cacophony of voices erupts from his phone once more. A series of disgusted shouts and complaints. Max raises her voice over Dustin's unholy screeching and gagging to be heard, sounding thoroughly revolted:
“Will. I’m not joking, keep that shit to yourselves”
She gets cut off by Lucas next, who somehow manages to raise his voice over Dustin. “Have some fucking mercy on us! We do not want to know what you guys are doing right now, okay?”
“Will, I am your sister, but if you join the call one more time, I will make it my personal mission to disown you.”
“Guys what the actual fuck-”
“AHHH OH MY GOD! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? MY EARS! MY EARS! I NEED A MEMORY WIPE-”
“Dustin, shut up!” Max snaps, clearly beyond irritated with him.
Will frowns in confusion, rubbing at his temples with a groan. The combination of the heat and the volume of his friends' voices—who, judging by their most recent conversation, might actually be losing their minds—was making his head throb. Maybe he should pick up meditation with Jane after all.
He looks back down and immediately scowls in annoyance.
You have been disconnected from the call. Click to rejoin.
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, trying not to lose his fucking mind. This is both the least funny and most confusing prank they've ever played. Then he clicks on the green button once again – with far more force than necessary.
Before the others have a chance to voice whatever problems they have with him in the call, Will speaks up.
“Guys, what the fuck?” He asks. “Why am I being kicked out of the call for no reason? Why are you all being so loud?”
Silence.
“Will,” Jane starts slowly, “I love you, but seeing as you are…busy…right now, we can call later.”
Will frowns, looking down at his watch and then at Mike as he wheels himself back into the aisle.
“I mean,” he says, looking back down at their empty basket, “we just started, but uh…I don’t really mind. We’ll be done in around–”
“WE MIND!” Dustin shrieks. Will wonders how he hasn’t gotten throat problems yet, considering the sheer volume he’s been yelling at. “WE MIND VERY FUCKING MUCH!”
Will goes to answer, but he gets distracted by Mike's disembodied voice, hearing his own name echo from somewhere in the store.
“WILL!”
“I’m coming, babe!” He hollers back, putting the basket down to walk over to the other aisle.
“Someone fucking kick him out of the fucking call!”
And before Will can protest, a message flashes across his screen – blinking at him in blue and green fonts.
You have been disconnected from the call. Click to rejoin.
Will stares at it in disbelief as he crosses into the next aisle.
“What the fuck?” he asks Mike, shoving the phone in front of his face.
Mike huffs in amusement, pushing the phones further away with his fingers. “I can’t see it if you place it that close to my face, babe.”
His eyes squint as he reads through the text on the screen, frowning as he scrolls a bit farther up the call log.
“What the hell?” he asks, confusion and annoyance seeping into his voice. “They kicked you out of the call five times? Literally why?”
“I don’t know!” Will exclaims. “They kept going on about how I was- busy or some shit.”
Mike’s voice is hard when he says “Rejoin. I’ll give them a piece of my mind.”
“Mike!” Will protests, rolling his eyes affectionately at how upset he’d gotten over Will’s problem, “You know them. They’re probably trying to be funny or something.”
Mike snatches his phone from his hands. “Well they aren’t. Five times is too far.”
He presses the rejoin button, waiting for the call to load.
Once the all-too-familiar swish sounds in the air, Mike pounces. “Can all of you please explain why the fuck you keep kicking Will out of the call?”
“It was funny once, but it’s getting really fucking annoying” Will adds, raising his voice to try and quiet the protests that had risen. “It’s been ages since we’ve all seen each other and all I want to do is shop for art supplies with my boyfriend and talk to my friends. Is it really that hard to do?”
Strangled noises come through the speaker.
Lucas is the first one to say anything, “Will.. are you telling me that you and Mike aren’t having sex?”
Will glances up to see a matching expression of bewilderment screwing Mike’s face up. Mike leans towards the phone, speaking cautiously, “Why in hell would we answer the call if we were having sex? What kind of a fucking question is that?”
It was Dustin’s turn to speak now, volume having dropped considerably in the face of this apparently new and shocking discovery, “Well, I don’t know! Maybe because Will was all like ‘I’m in Mike!’ And then he started moaning and shit-”
He’s cut off by a pissed off sounding Max, who slips into an exaggerated impression of Will, “And the whole ‘pace yourself babe!’ And ‘I’m coming!’ And all that fucking bullshit. Were you guys messing with us this whole time?”
The confusion leaks out of Will’s face, leaving him with a startling realisation.
Oh
The word slips from his mouth.
“Oh.” Mike echoes.
Their eyes find each other, staring at each other with disbelief. Mike breaks the silence that has formed, surprising everyone with a snort. Will’s mouth twitches, lasting all of three seconds before choking out an oh my gosh. It’s just him and Mike then, cackling like they’re little kids, in an aisle at an empty Michaels. Their amusement doesn’t appease their still-confused friends, who start demanding answers, sounding more exasperated than anything else.
Still laughing, Will reaches for his phone and hangs up on all of them. Mike loses it: he falls to the floor and starts basically convulsing, laughing so hard that no sound comes out. Will joins him, knowing there would be hell to pay when their friends finally got them.
If this is what everyone's summer is like, Will thinks he might finally understand the appeal.
Only through the safety of being indoors, though.
The weather can go fuck itself.