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Will was not at practice, which was a shock to Mack. He can’t remember a time when his friend missed practice. Even when he was injured, Mack would look up to see him in the stands. Or run into him in the locker room.
Mack asked around when he didn’t see Will walk into the locker room five minutes after him, like he always does. But no one could give him a straight answer. They were all more shocked that he didn’t know. Finally, their assistant coach was able to give him an answer: he’s sick.
Mack can’t believe that he didn’t show up just because he wasn’t feeling well.
Will has been sick before and still made it to the rink. Mack’s anger begins to dissipate as the practice continues, and a thought crosses his mind. How sick would he have to be to miss practice? The answer is on the brink of death. Mack's stomach drops as he thinks of Will on the brink of death.
He rushes off the ice the moment practice ends and is out of the rink in under ten minutes. He speeds to Will's house and types in the code to let himself in the front door.
“Smit?” Mack calls out when he enters the living room. Will is nowhere to be seen, so he travels into the bedroom.
He offers a soft knock, more as a gesture because he walks right in without waiting for a response.
It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark room. Once they do, he notices the lump in the covers. Mack walks over to the lump, his eyes narrowing once he gets close to the bed. He sees the mess of a head of hair first. Actually, it’s all he sees, so he bends down next to the bed. He comes face-to-face with Will. Whose face is contorted into a look of pain. Mack is surprised to see his eyes open, considering he never answered when Mack called or knocked.
“Will,” Mack says. At a normal volume, but Will's hands fly to cover his ears, like Mack just screamed at him.
Will mumbles something that Mack thinks may have been “too loud,” but he said it so quietly that he can’t be sure.
“What’s wrong?” Mack asks. This time, whispering the words.
“My head,” Will says, allowing his hands to slip off his ears and move to rub at his temples.
Mack surveys the nightstand table, but notices nothing. So, he gets straight to work. His mind is spinning as to how he can fix this situation.
He thinks there is a simple solution to a headache: water and Advil. So he digs through Will's cabinets to find the medication and fills up the biggest glass he can find.
He returns to Will's bedside and encourages the man to sit up, which he struggles to do.
Mack hands him two Advil and puts the water glass up to his lips.
Will takes a sip and moves to put the glass down, but Mack fights him. He forces him to take another long sip before he is satisfied and puts the glass on the nightstand.
Will shuffles back down the bed, disappearing beneath the covers once again.
Mack evaluates the look still stuck on Will's face. He can’t help but feel uneasy at the grimace on Will's face. He just wants to take that look off his friend's face, so he heads to the bathroom and wets a facecloth with ice-cold water. He remembers his mom doing this for him when he was a kid. It was the only thing that would bring instant relief. He walks back into the bedroom and carefully places the cloth across Will's forehead.
Will instantly closes his eyes, and Mack pulls the cloth even further down his head to rest over his eyes.
Mack sits there for a moment before he feels like he is invading majorly on Will's privacy, so he heads to the living room. He doesn’t want to leave Will alone, and he has nothing else to do today, so he hangs out on the couch. He makes sure to be quiet, not wanting to wake Will. So he scrolls on his phone with the volume on low. He’s zoned in for about half an hour before he hears shuffling across the floor. He stands just in time to hear the wrenching.
He rushes into the room and to the bathroom. He drops to the floor next to Will, who is hunched over the toilet bowl, emptying his stomach.
Mack's hand instantly falls to Will's back as the older boy sucks in some breaths. Mack flushes the toilet for him when he’s done.
“You're okay,” Mack says. Or more like the words fall out of his mouth as he looks at Will, near hyperventilating.
Will's breathing evens out, but his position doesn’t change. He’s still leaning over the toilet with his forehead resting on his crossed hands over the toilet seat.
After a moment, Mack speaks again. “Are you done?” Not waiting to force Will to move if he is going to throw up again.
Will nods after a second. Mack offers him a towel to wipe his mouth on and helps him up.
Will dreadfully walks back to his bed. Mack lets him, not forcing him to drink more water. He fears the forced chug of the liquid may have caused the problem they just had.
Mack sulks back into the living room once he rewets the cloth and places it back on Will's forehead.
He’s feeling defeated as hell. He is not helping at all, and Will is clearly suffering.
He doesn’t know what to do, so he calls his Mom. After the pleasantries, he gets straight to business.
“Mom, Will's not feeling well,” Mack says.
“Oh, that’s too bad, honey.”
“Yeah. He um. I think he has a really bad headache. So I got him water and Advil, but then he just threw it up,” Mack explains as he paces the room.
“Uh oh. Sounds like a migraine,”
“A migraine?” Mack states. He didn’t know Will got those. He doesn’t know much about migraines, actually.
Thankfully, his mom keeps talking. “It’s okay that he threw up, Macklin. It might actually make him feel better,”
Which Mack doesn't get at all, but he keeps on listening. As he nervously chews on his thumb.
“You know my friend gets migraines, and she told me the other day that standing in the bathtub with hot water can help release the tension.”
Mack isn’t sure how that would help, but he listens very closely, asking his mom a bunch of questions to be clear. He thanks her profusely before hanging up.
Mack sits back down on the couch but can’t relax, like at all. He's too anxious thinking about Will behind that door. Suffering.
So he quietly heads back into Will's room, being sure not to wake him. But the moment he opens the door, Will's head lifts from the pillow.
“Feeling any better?” Mack whispers, feeling guilty for having woken Will up.
“I can’t sleep. It hurt so bad,” Will says.
Mack nods. “I know what to do.” He slips into the bathroom, closing the door behind him to reduce the noise as he fills the bathtub. He spends way too much time fiddling with the handle to ensure the temperature is just right. Once he has filled it up almost a foot, he turns off the water and goes back to the bedroom to collect Will.
He keeps the light off as he herds Will into the room. Will groans at Mack's attempts, but lets himself be wrangled anyway.
Mack leans down to roll Will's sweatpants up to his knees so they don’t get wet. He does the same with his own and helps Will in the tub.
Will moves to sit on the side of the tub. He is clearly exhausted, but Mack's mom specifically said to stand. So Mack lifts Will up by his armpits and forces him to stand. Will looks unstable, so Mack pulls him tightly against his chest. He wraps his arms around Will's back to keep him up. This is all just to keep him standing up. That’s all this is. Mack keeps telling himself over and over.
He didn’t obsess over the feeling of Will's breath against his neck. Or the feeling in Will's hands, which are gripping the back of Mack's shirt.
After five minutes, Will lets out a breath. It’s clearly a breath of fucking relief.
“Better?” Mack asks.
“Yeah,” he breathes out.
Mack, let’s put a breath he didn’t know he was holding, too. They still stand there for another few minutes until Will goes boneless against Mack.
Mack guides him out of the tub and back into bed once again. This time, he is hoping it is to actually sleep. Mack moves to walk away once the blankets are pulled over, but he feels a hand grab his wrist.
“Stay,” Will says.
It’s not a question. It’s not an ask. It’s a demand. A soft demand. The voice is still quiet and pained. Mack can’t say no to that, so he steps around the bed and crawls into the opposite side. He lies facing Will, who is turned away from him, thankfully. Mack lies there quietly listening for Will's breathing to even out.
He’s shared a room with the guy enough times to know when he is sleeping. Which is why he recognizes the soft snores the moment he hears them. He gives Mack a wave of relief. Just knowing Will is feeling well enough to sleep. He himself feels tired; he can’t imagine how tired his teammate is.
Mack's phone is still in the living room, so there is nothing really for him to do but close his eyes. Which he does. Sleep comes to him quickly.
He wakes up to the sound of the shower. Not the shower turning on, but running. He’s surprised he slept through Will leaving the bed and turning on the shower; he is a pretty light sleeper.
He sits up and looks at the sun still creeping through the crack in the curtain. It must still be daytime, so Mack gets up. He feels suddenly quiet and awkward about being in Will's bed all alone. Or being in Will's bed at all. So he takes out his awkwardness by making the bed. He needs to do something with his hands and his energy. Just as he is draping the duvet over the bed, the shower shuts off.
Mack stands frozen in the room as he hears Will shuffle around the bathroom. He doesn’t know why he’s so afraid, but somehow he is frozen in place. He should leave, give Will his space, but he also needs to get eyes on him to ensure he is okay. After all they just went through.
The choice to stay or go evaporates when Will walks out of the bathroom. He’s dressed in a shakes t-shirt and a pair of black shorts. His golden hair is much darker because it’s wet. The locks have fallen messily across his head.
Mack’s attention is on Will's face as he waits for him to take the lead. For him to say anything.
“You made the bed,” Will remarks.
Mack's cheek goes red. Why did he make the bed? That is so weird now that he thinks about it.
“Uh, yeah,” Mack says, which makes Will smile. Mack was so happy to see that smile. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah. Much better," Will says. He ducks his head as he continues to talk, “Thanks for taking care of me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Mack says, brushing it off.
“No, I-“ Will says before stopping. He scratches the back of his head, eyes unable to meet Mack’s. Then he moves towards Mack, who is still completely frozen in place.
Will walks until they are toe-to-toe. Only then does Will meet Mack’s eyes. “It means a lot. That you stayed," Will says.
Mack's cheeks heat again.
“You mean a lot,” Will lets out a strangled breath. “To me,” he adds. Very quietly.
“Same,” Mack says. Then he shakes his head and clarifies, “I mean, you mean a lot to me. Not that I mean a lot to me. That would be weird. If you know-“
Will cuts him off by pressing his lips to Mack’s.
Mack’s words turn into a soft moan against Will's lips. Shock ripples down his whole entire body, but he still instantly leans into the kiss.
Mack's mind clears, and all he can think about is Will. Will's lips against his. Will's hand on his hips. The way Will smells.
Will pulls away much too soon for Mack’s liking. But he doesn’t pull away far, just enough to pull their lips apart.
Will doesn't say anything. And neither does Mack. What do you say when your best friend kisses you? And it’s even better than how you imagined it. And honestly, Mack’s imagined it many times before.
Instead of words, Mack just uses his actions, pulling Will into a hug. He finds himself whispering “thank you,”
Which makes Will laugh.
Mack’s not sure he would have ever been brave enough to make the first move. So he is really thankful. So thankful for Will. His Will.