Work Text:
December, 1984.
The Wheeler household was abuzz with holiday cheer. The annual Wheeler family Christmas party was just barely winding down, as everyone finished the task of opening their presents to each other and cleaning up the cardboard carnage. A brown-haired boy stood watching, smiling at the happy holiday eve he had celebrated. From behind him, a voice made itself known. “Hey, Will,” the voice whispered, “Come with me to the basement.” The boy turned to see his best friend Mike smiling at him in a fuzzy green reindeer sweater. “Come on,” Mike grinned, pulling him around the house.
The two bounded down the stairs, collapsing beside each other on the tattered sofa. “So, Mike,” Will starts, a sense of questioning in his voice. “W-what did you want with me?”
“Well, I wanted to give you this, for one.” He reached behind him, producing a flat box wrapped in green foil wrapping paper. He handed it to Will, who glanced up to ensure it was okay to open. Carefully, Will’s small, bony fingers began peeling away at the tape, pulling away the shiny printed paper encasing the box.
The shell of a box held a comic book, and Will wasn’t exceptionally amused… That is, until he realized two things: One, this comic book happened to be an original copy of X-Men #134, and Two, this copy was signed by John Byrne, the writer of this particular issue. At the moment of these revolutions, the boy’s eyes widened and began to gleam in a state of excitement. “Oh my god, Mike, where did you get this? How did you get this? Wait, how did you know I wanted this specific issue?”
Mike smiled, tiny freckles spread wide across his grinning face. “Well, Dustin remembered that you wanted his X-Men #134 the night you went missing…” he trailed off, skittering away from the subject as he noticed the evident grimace twisted into his friend’s pale face. “Oh, Will, I-I’m sorry, I-”
Will cut him off, his small warm hand settling itself onto Mike’s larger, somehow colder one. “Mike, it’s okay. We all have to come to terms with what happened that week, and I’m getting better about it too, I mean, it’s been a year or so...” He looks up and sighs. “...Anyways, I had a feeling that you were gonna get me a gift, so I wanna give you something too. Do you, uh, still have that piano in the storage room?”
Mike raises an eyebrow, confused. “Yeah? It might not sound the greatest, and it’s kinda dusty, but it’s still over there.”
Will grinned. “Well then, let’s go.” He clasps Mike’s hand with his own, both warmer after the constant contact in the past minute or so. Striding with confidence and limitless excitement, he brings his friend across the basement to the storage room Mike’s dad made when the boys declared the basement their domain.
The boys entered the dark room, feeling for the light switch on the wall to the right of them and flipping it. They ventured further on, the dim lights swaying gently with the quiet thumps of people moving in the rooms above. The two scanned the room for the instrument, Mike emitting a quick “Over here!” when he found it.
The old baby grand stood in a corner, connected to the walls with cobwebs that had to have been there for at least a few years. Its keys were still in a playable condition, though someone had chipped a few the last time it was used. The black surface paled with the collection of dust from its years of neglect and abandonment.
Will set to work, getting a rag from a rickety red tool chest to swipe the dust to the ground; Mike followed his lead, sweeping a clump of dust into a corner. “Wow, I didn’t realize how much I was gonna have to work for my present,” Mike joked, flicking the cobwebs away as Will began to open the instrument’s lid.
“Sorry, but we’re almost done, I swear.” Will smiled. “Help me out for a second?” The two laid an old, fraying crochet blanket on top of the piano’s matching bench, where the two sat down, less than six inches from each other, both facing the keys. Will inhaled, expelling a sigh of relief as he tested out a few keys. Surprisingly, the piano wasn’t nearly as off-key as they had thought. He warmed up, tapping out a gentle little melody he had heard in a movie once, then looked up to Mike, who looked back in excited expectancy. “Are you ready, Mike?” Will asked.
“Yeah,” Mike nodded, raven-black hair swishing with the movement.
Will smiled up at him, turning to the keys and playing the beginning of a song. The quiet, sort-of flat notes flowed together from the ivory keys, lulling Mike into a sense of fixation on Will as the smaller boy closed his eyes and parted his lips to sing.
Boxes and bows full of ribbons and clothes,
set up neatly beneath the tree
With a tag on each one saying Santa has come,
but where are the ones from me?
Oh how I wanted the lights in your eyes to be mine,
I wanted the look on your face...
Will began to rock back and forth, slowly, smiling and furrowing his brow and pushing all the emotion of the song out into his shaky voice. Mike gazed on, spellbound, swaying to the melody and smiling as the boy squeezed his eyelids somehow tighter than they were as he accented a note. Will continued, oblivious to the dark chocolate eyes fixed on his every facet of being.
Baby you've been the glue and the nails and screws
that have managed to keep me in place
So I wanted a gift for my lady in white
but all I could bring you tonight…
Will looked up, dark eyes meeting vaguely darker ones as he continued. A slight warm fluttering sensation bloomed in the pit of the boy’s stomach, a seed of affection blossoming into a flower of passion.
All I can give is this Christmas song to you,
I just hope that you’ll sing it…
Whenever your heart skips a beat while you're thinking of me…
And if the greetings this season will bring leave you searching for meaning,
You will look to the words I have written and you'll be set free…
The two tore their eyes away from each other, looking up as they heard a loud crash from upstairs. There was a quaint moment’s pause, then Will played on, swinging straight back to the song as they locked eyes, emotions intensifying evermore as the space between them seemed excruciatingly wide. They leaned toward each other as Will started the last line, eyes glimmering and a small grin, ever widening, just barely pulling his voice higher than it was.
And that's all I can give you this Christmas….
Will finished playing out the last notes, exhaling a bit heavily before regulating his breathing. It took him a minute to catch his breath, realizing that the boy beside him, the love of his life, was still fixated on his eyes. His heart was pounding, a crimson blush rushing like a river across his nose and cheeks. Mike, lost in his own train of thought, gazed on, not realizing that his song was over. “Mike, what did you think?” Will asked. “Mike?”
Upon seeing and hearing Will call his name, the spell was broken and he tore his eyes downwards, his field of freckles flooded with a blush. “Sorry about that awkward staring contest thing…” Mike muttered, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.
“Oh, no, it-it’s okay, I-”
Will was cut off by his older brother calling him from upstairs. “Will, time to go!”
“Okay!” Will called back, racing to get his things from their recreational area of the basement and stepping up the stairs, until-
“Will, wait!” Mike grabbed Will's wrist as he steps down to the second stair. “Your song… I-I loved it.”
“Um… wow, Mike, thanks. It just-came out of me.”
“You mean…”
“Yeah, I, uh, I wrote it myself.”
Mike blushed. “About… me?”
“...Yeah.”
“Hey, Will?”
“Yeah?”
“Look up.” Directly above their heads hung a sprig of mistletoe, the spherical white berries contrasting with the deep green of the leaves.
“You mean we have to-” Will’s wary comment was cut off by Mike stepping up and pulling Will closer, with his hand cupped around the smaller boy’s neck.
“Yes.” Mike breathed, closing the final few inches between their lips, pressing them together gently. The physical connection-at first slight, almost nonexistent-now deepened to something more passionate as Will lifted a steady hand to Mike's cheek and brought them ever closer. Their lips move slowly in sync, dancing together in a crawling waltz.
Around the corner upstairs, a frazzled Jonathan approaches, about to call for his brother again. “Will-oh. Is this-is this a thing now, you two?”
Will choked on nothing as the two tore themselves apart from each other, stuttering as they try to respond to the young adult in front of them. “Jonathan! We, um, I-”
“Will, are you two a thing?”
Will flushes a bright pink, and turns to Mike. “Are we?”
Mike extends his hand out to Will, who takes it up into his own. “Only if you want…”
“...Then yeah, Jonathan. I’d say we are.”
Jonathan smiles down at them. “Well, then I guess I'll let you say your goodbyes.” He turns away. “Oh, and Mike?”
“Yeah?”
“Be good to my little brother, will you?”
Mike smiles. “Of course.” He turns to Will, cupping his cheek in his hand and pressing another kiss gingerly against his lips. “Goodnight, Will.” He ghosted his pale fingertips along his jaw and dropped his hand. “See you tomorrow?”
Will winked, grinning as he retreated up the stairs. “Only if you want.”