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Mike always thought that his cousins Richie, Miles and Boris would be his very last resort for love advice 2 beers deep and 50 drunk texts in, and even then he would still have some function and common sense not to go to them. But he was getting way too desperate, especially after confessing his love to his longtime best friend Will Byers and completely ditching him in the school library right after like a fucking idiot.
“Mike! Mike, wait!” Will called out. His volume had to be breaking at least a few sound barriers, but Mike didn't wait around long enough for that. He rushed down the school corridors, his cheeks felt like they were lit on fire and warm tears pricked at the back of his eyes. Everybody around him shifted out of focus and blurred and he didn't register it when he bumped into Will's sister Jane, who also called after him when he kept running right after. Why did he have to confess in a school library, damnit! Will probably hated him now, knowing that his best friend liked and loved him. He probably never wanted to see Mike again, and the black-haired boy couldn't blame him. It was all over.
He ran to his house and practically collapsed through the front door, his dark blue sweatshirt now feeling hot and tight on his body. He gasped for air, his backpack falling off his shoulders and landing on the floor with a huge *thud*. Nancy, his older sister, peeked her head out of the kitchen, looking at him with surprised eyes.
“Jesus, what happened to you?” She asked, concern seeping in her words. Mike didn't have time to respond, he was just so overwhelmed to do anything other than cry. He scrambled upright and sprinted upstairs, almost slipping on the steps as he kicked his shoes off, causing them to skitter and patter down the steps, the sounds identical to mini thunderstorms.
“Hey, Mike! What happened?!” Nancy yelled after him, but to no avail. Mike made it to his room and slammed the door, landing on his bed stomach-down, blubbering into his pillow. He slowly inched his hand to his pocket to pull out his phone and earbuds, opening up Spotify and immediately putting on a POV playlist, filled to the brim with Billie Eilish and McCafferty and Mitski and a bunch of other sad artists that Mike really needed to hear right now. He was already unfolding a couple of plans in his mind. Either he would just go to Will, confess again and get rejected or not, or he would grab his passport and move all the way to China or Mexico or some other foreign country where nobody knew him and die alone. None of those options seemed good!
“Freaks” by Surf Curse came on as soon as Mike angrily screamed and sobbed into his pillow. In the rush of the moment, he had forgotten that his unruly cousins were coming over today. He needed to figure out something fast. And luckily that “something” would come in the forms of a younger mischievous menace, a scary ghastly teenager who definitely had some psychological issues, and an older bisexual Russian who was more smoke and head nods than bark or bite.
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*About 15 minutes later*
“Ah, welcome! Welcome! Come in!” Karen exclaimed with delight, opening the door and allowing Maggie and Bert to come through, with Richie, Miles and Boris following. Miles’s younger sister Flora stayed close to Maggie, clinging onto her side. Richie Tozier, Miles Fairchild and Boris Pavlikosky were Mike's cousins, even though they had widely different dynamics. Well technically, Miles was Richie's brother of sorts since Maggie had technically adopted Miles and Flora, but the whole thing was confusing and for another time.
However, to put it simply, Richie was the type of guy to wear a Minecraft shirt to a professional school performance and Boris looked like a walking shadow, the only contrast being his pale pasty skin. Miles was just flat out disturbing, and not even in a neutral way. He always wore a red and silver striped sweatshirt and stared at everyone like he was trying to reel their souls in to cut them up and eat for dinner. His expressions were oddly disturbing and even his smiles held an ominous feeling to them. He always said the weirdest, creepiest stuff too, most of them without context.
Maggie and Bert were way different too. Maggie, Richie's mother and Karen's sister, was a kind woman, gentle but firm. Bert, Boris's father and also Ted's brother, was just all barky, cruel and mean and had never seen things with colour in his life. Still, Karen was glad to have them over. Just like always, the three boys rushed over to Karen, Richie excited and hyper.
“Hey auntie! You know where Wheels On The Bus is?” He asked, practically bouncing in place. That was his nickname for Mike. Boris shuffled behind him, a small visible smirk creeping on his mouth. Miles was close behind Boris, appearing like some sort of shadow.
“Yeah, I want to show him my new lighter. It is custom made.” Boris stated thickly, fishing in his pockets and pulling out a tall and slim black lighter with grey zigzag patterns on it, flicking it and making a tiny red burst of flame before it blew out. Karen kept a smile on her face, trying not to wince at the fact that Boris had brought something flammable in the house. Again. Miles kept an icy cold stare that was locked onto her.
“You powdered your skin again. It looks slimy.” Miles stated to her, his voice steady and low. Karen shivered all over, her spine feeling tingly. What did that even mean? Jesus, who could have possibly raised him? I mean, she knew that Maggie had for about a decade of his life, but sheesh, she was doing a terrible job then. But Karen wasn't the type of woman to make assumptions about her sister's parenting.
“Oh, he's just upstairs, dears!” She chirped, gesturing towards the stairs as Maggie and Bert settled. Maggie was already starting small talk with Ted, who was chopping tomatoes in the kitchen. Richie didn't waste any time rushing upstairs. Despite all his past protests and complaints that he couldn't stand Mike at all, he sure was still eager to meet him every time. Boris and Miles followed along, posture lazy and relaxed. Miles’s younger sister Flora glanced at them, her rosy face tinted with shyness as she whined at him to be back soon. Nancy's ears perked up.
“I'd be careful though, he's a bit down today. Might get snappy.” Nancy warned, lowering her magazine and craning her head towards the rowdy boys. She was sitting on the couch in the living room and she had just so happened to eavesdrop on everything. Richie snorted, rubbing his hands together like a Disney villain. Oh, he was definitely up to something. Boris just shrugged, his shoulders reaching his ears before dropping back down. Miles just looked at the floor, pupils dragging across the tiles like he was daring them to stay in place telepathically.
“His bedroom door can hold the fucking incredible Hulk.” Boris said simply, arms swinging by his sides. Richie was always halfway up the stairs, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“No, that would be my pant zipper!” He replied with a loud cackle, and Boris rolled his eyes. Miles scoffed with a sneer. Richie could never resist making a dirty joke. Miles’s younger sister stayed downstairs with the adults. They both headed up the stairs, and in a flash, Richie spotted Mike's bedroom, faintly hearing a sad low-beat song playing from the inside. Either Mike was finally holding a funeral for his brain cells, or something had happened. And given Mike Wheeler, something had definitely happened.
“Yoohoo! Wheels on the bussss!” Richie sang, knocking on Mike's bedroom door, the sound echoing off his knuckles. Boris finally caught up to him, shoving his hands in his pockets. Miles caught up too. Richie stubbornly knocked again. “I can hear your depressing ass playlist blasting from your bed, I know you're in there alone and not with some hot chick!”
“He's probably dead. Finally, I can fertilize his rotting bones for the dry roots of death’s soil plantation.” Miles whispered, his voice dropping dangerously an octave or two. Richie ignored him because Miles was always saying strange shit like that.
“Is he playing…uh…what was it… “Water Soft” by “Mattskee” or some American shit?” Boris asked, narrowing his eyes and raising a sculpted eyebrow. The door opened with a creak and there stood Mike, cheeks rosy and moist and eyes dry but red-rimmed. His black hair was a shaggy tangled mess and his sweatshirt was wrinkled all over.
“It's Liquid Smooth by Mitski, Boris.” He grumbled, almost offended that Boris would mess up the title and artist of the song so bad. Richie peered at Mike like he was studying an insect under a microscope and not his mildly upset slightly older teen cousin. A glimmer of interest darted across Miles’s face, which was pretty uncommon. Mike flinched at the sight of Miles, it was always unpleasant to see the insanely sinister boy.
“Jesus, what the hell happened to you? Was the post-nut clarity that bad??” Richie asked, his tone tinted with surprise. Mike glowered at him, staring daggers into his soul. His mind was a battle, he was debating on whether to tell his cousins everything or not. But he knew they would find out anyway, somehow. He let out a deep sigh and pulled the two boys in, slamming the door behind them. Richie looked taken aback, and even Boris's eyes were a bit wide.
“What's going on with you, Mike?” Boris asked, a teetering edge to his tone.
“Did the terabytes of the buried keepsakes from the unknown endless void get a suffocating grasp on your unfortunate broken will of your soul?” Miles asked, something paralyzing flickering in his dark empty pupils. He always made Mike's skin crawl.
Richie scrunched up his nose at him. “Weirdo alert!!” He proclaimed to his eerie technical-brother. Miles just shrugged.
“Okay, I'll stop.” He giggled, but it was an obvious lie.
Mike just stared between the three of them, struggling to form the racing bubbly thoughts trapped in his head into verbal speech. He thought about the surprised but slightly elated look on Will's face when Mike confessed his love, he remembered how Will’s cheeks had turned a light but visible shade of pink before fading away when Mike ran. He just got so scared, and he was an absolute dimwit when he was scared. He needed help, he didn't want Will to hate him (even though that's almost impossible). That would be a living nightmare. Then he said the words he thought he would never say, not even if he was held at gunpoint. Yet here he was, desperate as ever.
“I need your guy's help. I need advice.” He said shakily, the words lingering in the air. Richie blinked, and Boris and Miles just stared back. Miles looked straight into Mike's soul, as if he was studying his inner thoughts and mind, and the raven-haired boy shivered all over. “Stop staring at me like that, it's creepy!” He exclaimed, sitting back down on his bed. “I just need help with something, okay?”
“Should I go get the shovel and trash bag?” Miles and Boris asked in unison, their voices mixing together but still coherent and clear. Miles seemed way too hyped to accuse Mike of murdering someone. Richie snorted behind his hand. “Wow, you messed something up with a hot babe? Never thought I'd live to see the day!”
Unfortunately, only Richie would be correct.
Mike buried his face in his hands for a moment, getting his thoughts in order without screaming, before lifting his head back up again. It was now or never. Without even giving a second thought to it, the story came pouring out of his mouth, from start to finish. He told them about how he had confessed to Will in the school library and then ran away, and how he was now immediately regretting his decision because he didn't know if Will liked him back or not (even though it was painfully obvious he did) and now he was stuck and confused.
The room went silent for a second before Richie burst into loud belly laughter, the sound echoing throughout the entire bedroom. The laugh was both annoying and contagious, because Boris started chuckling too. Miles didn't move, but Mike could swear he saw a corner of his lips tug upwards.
“Okay, so you officially fucked up!” Richie wheezed, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes that were crinkling at the corners. “So now you came crawling to us!”
“Wow Wheeler, you really outdid yourself.” Boris noted. Miles placed his knuckles on his face and leaned his elbows on his knees.
“Your soul yearns for the touch of aching pain that will heal and cure your atomizing objectification of the romantic mind.” Miles added, his ghastly tone cutting in the conversation like scissors. He was like a lurking shadow waiting to swallow everyone's words and mood whole. Mike groaned loudly, his patience already running thin. He was resisting the urge to call 911 and animal control. This was already a disaster waiting to happen, if it wasn't already.
“Okay, I get it!” Mike exclaimed in frustration, wiping both of his hands over his face. “Just– I need help, alright? I'm getting desperate here, throw me a bone.”
“Oh, we'll throw you a bone alright, because you're a total dog!” Richie cackled, his voice getting shrill from laughing so hard. “Or rather, we should throw you some commercial feed, since you're such a chicken!” He tossed in, squawking loudly and obnoxiously right after, flapping his elbows underneath his armpits while “bwack bwack bwack” and other stupid goofy sounds rolled off his trashy tongue.
Mike's face flooded in a flaring vivid red, and his mind went blank as he grabbed his pillow and launched it at Richie's head. “SHUT UP!!”
Richie dodged the pillow with practiced ease, letting it bounce off the wall and fall onto the floor with a cushiony “flomph”.
“Look,” Mike snipped, gesturing with his hands like a professional speech giver. “It's not like I LOVE Will–” He started out with a blatant lie and a shaky tone, and of course, he immediately gets interrupted by Richie's loud bitter laugh.
“Then I'm straight!” He retorted sarcastically, pushing up his ridiculously large squared glasses.
“Then I didn't kiss my best friend passionately on my mouth.” Boris chimed in with his own ridicule, glancing at Miles to finish the full circle.
Miles smirked, his viper curls hovering over his owlish black eyes. “Then I'm not psychotic.” He added with utter mockery and a low, gravely chuckle.
“I knew it!!” Richie screeched, pointing a sharp finger at his adopted brother. “I'm telling Mom! I knew all those dead birds weren't from the neighbor's cat, Sicko!”
Miles, who had now finished his mental transformation into an unnerving creepypasta, grinned back like a skin walker cat with every terrifying disease known to man, flashing his saccharine, sinisterly stubby whites in an act of imminent malice. Mike audibly sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and knitting his eyebrows together in badly kept rage.
“Well, then, Boris, if you're so great and mighty, then why haven't YOU confessed to Theo then, huh?!” He interrogated, flicking a wrist towards his older cousin. Boris flinched like Mike's words had burned him and he turned to cough into the crook of his arm, the faintest shade of pale pink grading his pasty cheekbones. What a coward.
“That is different.” Boris protested with a jittery voice, his heavy accent faltering a tad. “I actually like him, he's special. Not like the others.”
“I bet you do!” Mike erupted, his volume suddenly going from 20 to 100. A sly and disingenuous smile sneaks across his lips, because he knows which buttons to press, and which buttons will get Boris to malfunction and break apart in seconds.
“With every inch of your manhood.” He jeered under his breath, his voice avalanching to an eerie whisper. Richie gasps and Miles covers his mouth with a full palm as Boris's formerly smug face twists into unadulterated seething rage.
“Oh, he did not.” Richie muttered, eyes widening to saucers. Miles exhaled and shook his head side to side. “I think he did.” He mouthed, voice barely above hushed silence.
And then, all the gateways to hell broke loose by the clattering chains, and the entire room exploded into violent chaos.
Boris launched himself onto Mike in a matter of an enraged second and grabbed handfuls of his large fluffy hair as Mike screeched, the two of them toppling over and getting into a savage, wild cat fight on the floor. Mike let out one pigish squeal after another as Boris pinned him down on his stomach, and tugged and yanked his locks with angry, firm fists, excruciating pain sparking through the roots of his skull. His knees dug into Mike's back, hurting and almost stabbing his entire spinal cord.
“FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” Miles and Richie chanted loudly like they were watching a spectacular WWE wrestling match. Richie pumped his fists in the air while cheering, and Boris gritted his teeth angrily as he slammed the side of Mike's face right onto the ground.
“Take it back!! Take it back!!” Boris bellowed, a pure fire of anger blazing bright in his eyes and drool frothing at the inner corners of his sharp, tigerish teeth. Mike squeaked before finally surrendering, succumbing to his torment and tossing away his pride.
“Okay!! Fine!! I take it all back!!” He shrieked, every limb attached to his body throbbing with pain. Boris's livid expression dissolved to a satisfied one and he crawled off of Mike, who gasped for air and flopped around like a fish ripped out of water before sitting upright, his hair a frizzy tornado mess.
“Aw man! That was so anti-climatic! You didn't even put up a fight!” Richie complained, whiny and running his mouth without thinking once again. Mike winced hard and rubbed his pulsing head, shooting his cousin a glare that could curdle milk.
“Good to know that my pain and suffering is your entertainment.” Mike grumbled, sarcasm dripping from every word. He scrambled to sit on his bed, and Boris plopped down next to him like absolutely nothing had happened. Mike was so done with his cousins at this point, and he wanted this day to be over. He collapsed his head in his hands, resisting the urge to bite the very last shreds of his already jagged fingernails.
“What about you two?” Mike blurted, pointing to Richie and Miles. “Have you two made any ounce of progress yet?”
“Eddie scolded me the other day for not brushing my teeth properly.” Richie confessed like it was a petty crime, hanging his head in shame.
“Of course he did, stupid asswipe. Maybe try, I don’t know, brushing your fucking teeth??” Mike hollered. Richie gave him a scalding death stare, and Mike’s mouth clamped shut like a goldfish, completely on his own accord and definitely not because Richie could be scary when he wanted to be.
“Abe is still cute. But he won’t approach me for some reason” Miles hummed, genuinely confused on why that was. Like the answer wasn’t right on his idiotic, Conjuring worthy face. “Maybe I’m not staring into his soul enough. Maybe I should try the ‘carrots in eyes’ tactic.”
Jesus, was this guy a slow-witted dunce or what?
“Gee, I wonder why he won’t approach you.” Mike snapped back sarcastically with an extreme eye roll. His face was filled to the brim with exasperation.
“Anyway, you want advice, yes?” Boris asked through the cracks of the conversation, even though it wasn't really a question to begin with.
“Well, not anymore.” Mike groused in bubbling irritation, eyebrows furrowed together. “But I'm sure you guys will just blab on anyway.”
“I say just apologize to him and go for it.” Miles chimed in, dropping down in Mike's spinning chair near his stationary desk. Richie was currently criss-crossed on the floor with no applesauce in sight. “The longer you spend moping over the past and your previous actions, the more time you waste. The turn you could use to make things right. Past mistakes are new information, after all. And you–”
Miles pointed a finger at an intrigued Mike. “You love this ‘Will Byers’, whoever he is. I know it. You know it. He knows it. Hell, even Satan himself knows it. So don't keep yourself in the dark any longer. Don't let go of what you love because of something you hate about yourself.”
The midnight-haired boy was stunned. That was…. actually pretty meaningful and moving. Miles had always been a very strange and conspiring philosopher in some respects, but that mini speech of his was thoughtful. Encouraging, even. Maybe uplifting.
“Wow….thanks.” Mike said, a shy twitch tugging his lips slightly upward. Miles nodded.
“No problem.” He replied nonchalantly, leaning back in the chair and turning himself side to side in a circular motion. A big, goofy grin broke out on Richie's face and he tapped his fingers together like a villain carrying out his evil schemes, and his smile soon reflected onto Boris.
A sliver of hope slithered through Mike's brainwaves before something hit him and he sighed breathily. “Ugh, but I could never talk to him in person again, not unless he shows up to my house with a flower like a dumbass Prince Charming or some shit.” He snorted with no humor.
As soon as those words escaped past his lips, by some star-crossed miracle or by pure coincidence, the front doorbell rang, the shrill bell reaching all the way upstairs. Mike's heart skipped a beat.
“Someone's at the door!!” Richie announced the obvious, jumping up, swinging the bedroom door open and rushing out. Boris quickly hopped onto his feet and bolted after him.
“Ooh, fresh meat.” Miles drawled out as a menacing monotone question, floating out the bedroom door like a cartoon character to an animated prey. Mike was the last to leave, and he inhaled a sharp breath. He spotted who it was before he was even more than halfway down the steps, to which then his breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened to the side of dinner plates.
Will was standing there. With a blooming red rose in hand and a guilty smile written all over his face. Mike's jaw dropped to the floor, going slack as Richie eagerly ushered him inside the house.
“Welcome, welcome Sir William! Mike's been expecting you!” Richie declared, and you would have thought he was announcing the arrival of royalty. Mike's entire face blanched and drained of colour and he wanted to curl up and disappear into thin air. Oh. My. God. This was SO MORTIFYING.
“Oh- uh, he has?” Will questioned as his surprised eyes met Mike's shocked ones. Richie nodded frantically, and then Miles decided to just fuel the fire for no goddamn reason.
“I don't know if you want to get near him though, his vital fluids smell weird.” He stated without hesitation. Mike's entire face burned in humiliation and Will's eyes expanded to saucers.
“What?!” The brunet exclaimed.
“Let's go upstairs!!” Mike blurted raw, right as his mother peeked out of the kitchen with narrowed eyes and an arched eyebrow.
“Huh? O-Oh, yeah! T-That sounds like a good idea!” Will stammered, his adorably dotted cheeks flaring a vibrant flamingo pink.
“Mike! I thought I told you no guests today!” Mrs Wheeler chided his son, her eyes darting between the five boys, and Richie feigned an innocent face.
“I didn’t know he was coming over, okay?!” Mike screamed back, his volume so loud that it echoed off of the house’s walls as he ran up the stairs with Will following along. He chose to ignore the chorused “ooohs” from a few feet behind him and the suggestively wolfish whistle from the trashmouth. The two boys made it up the stairs and Mike immediately dragged Will inside his bedroom and slammed the door shut before anyone could misunderstand anything.
The pair sat on Mike’s bed with a strained creak, and there was an uncomfortable silence. “For you.” Will mumbled, offering Mike the fresh rose. The rose was a beautiful flower, with flush velvety petals that were each equally a vivid ruby red, entrancing Mike with their natural beauty. And Will was just as beautiful as the rose.
“Uhm, thank you.” Mike finally said, taking the rose from Will’s hand. Will had even taken the time to cut every single one of the thorns off of the lively green stem. His head felt like it had been dipped in steaming hot wax as he set the lovely rose down by his side. They shared a look, and then Mike’s walls came crumbling down in the blink of an eye.
“I’m so sorry!” He cried out, his hands curling into tense fists and stress washing over his twisted features. Will opened his mouth to protest, but Mike cut him off with even more distress. “I’m sorry I ran away after that, I didn’t mean to just flee!! It was so stupid of me to just say that I liked you like that and you probably hate me now-”
“Mike!” Will gasped.
“-A-And if you never want to speak to me again or not be friends with me anymore, I totally get it, a-and I-”
Will cuts off his anxious stammering with an abrupt kiss, their lips slotting against each other in an instant and Will’s hand flying to cup the other’s face. Mike’s eyes widened before they relaxed and fluttered closed, his figure melting and his tight muscles liquefying just by the touch. Their lips smashed against each other perfectly, flush and just right, like puzzle pieces or magnets. Mike’s panic about whether his breath smelled bad or not withered away quickly, because Will’s lips tasted like being in heaven. His lips tasted like freedom, like an angel gaining their wings or a king earning his crown.
The two pulled back and broke the passive kiss with a weak string of saliva connecting their warm mouths, and they both cracked a radiant grin at each other that reached their flushed red ears. Will flashed his two bunny teeth, which were so cute and endearing that Mike’s heart drummed against his ribcage, his thunderous heartbeat syncing with Will’s in sweet, blissful unison. The brunet boy hummed under his breath and gingerly rubbed Mike’s luminous red, faintly freckle-smattered cheek.
“I love you too, Mike.” He whispered, love and devotion bouncing off of every syllable. Mike swallowed hard, his heart vibrating so much that he was genuinely afraid for a second that it would explode inside his chest. At least he would die a happy man.
“You do?” He asked stupidly. Will nodded, his smile growing wider.
“Of course I do! You’re smart, funny, kind, incredibly handsome-” Will rattled off his mental list that he had been building up for almost a decade, which didn’t help Mike’s immense fluster.
“Okay, okay.” Mike chuckled at the affectionate flattery, waving a dismissive hand. “So, we’re like…boyfriends now?”
“If you want to be. I-I mean, I want to be. Do you?” Will remarked, his hopeful owlish eyes shining in the ceiling light of the bedroom. Mike’s mind pulsed and his hands started to shake. That was the question he had been waiting months for, the question that only came to him in dreams, until today. Until this sublime moment.
“Yes, please.” Mike breathed out, starting to feel dizzy with how gorgeous Will looked right now. “I would more than love that, my dear Will.” He admitted, the pet name slipping out before he could stop it. It just came to him naturally, and his brain-to-mouth filter had been obliterated at this point.
Will’s striking smile sprouted impossibly wide, identical to a feral cat’s. His mole-scattered cheeks were still glowing a glaring hot pink, his shoulders drooped, his worries totally washed away and his heart swelling full. Mike looked and was the exact same.
“Cool.” He rasped, his dazzling expression nothing short of ecstatic.
“Cool.” Mike replied smoothly, so elated that his legs and nerves were quivering and he could burst out into dance and song. Will was his boyfriend now. Holy cow. Something that Mike never knew was physically possible, but now it really was! Mike couldn’t be any happier. This was hands down the best day of his entire life. He couldn’t believe that just about half an hour ago, he thought that the entire world was cruel and horrible to him and that he wanted to burrow himself into a hole like a rabbit and never come back out.
Suddenly, Mike and Will heard muffled cheers and shushes and giggles right outside his door, the sounds very particular and specific and unfortunately familiar. Mike groaned and Will just chortled behind his hand. “Your cousins are weird.” He retorted playfully.
“Just ‘weird’? You’re being generous.” Mike scoffed, lips compressing into a straight disappointed line. Will burst into melodious laughter, music to Mike’s ears. He could listen to that laugh on loop for years and never get tired of it at all. He still couldn’t believe that Will actually liked him back. It was a dream come true, a prayer of his that had come to life. Was it irrational to pass out right after your long-time crush confessed his mutual love for you? Was it normal for your heart to rapidly pound non-stop just from the special way your new alluring boyfriend grinned at you? Gosh, Mike thought that Will was as pretty as a picture, and that he reached every single standard and expectation. And Will thought the same about him, except maybe even a greater amount.
The two boys loved each other unconditionally, and they would continue to love each other beyond the day that they were put into coffins and placed into the soiled ground. They might still be young, but they were both sure that this feeling would stay ablaze for all eternity. Until nothing did them part.
Well at the end of the day, Mike’s cousins had helped alright, just not in the way that anyone would expect them to. They were unruly, they were annoying, and they somehow managed to play the role of being noble accidental matchmakers for the paladin and the cleric. Now they just needed to do all that with their OWN crushes. Which would probably take a LOT more brainpower and manners than the three even had combined.
Oh well, at least they helped Mike in more…peculiar ways than one.