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Summary
“‘S better if you’re here.” Mike leaned forward. Elbows on his knees, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you think?”
Something about his tone was elusive to Will, like there was a hidden meaning behind his words that he refused to pull the curtain off of.
“I think so,” Will said quietly. He was confused, but he was also completely warm, completely safe. Even just sitting there on the couch with Mike, he was pliant and boneless. Right where he wanted to be. No matter what Mike said, he would agree. Because—well. It was all true, wasn’t it?
New York, 1994. Will is cursed. Because there’s no one else, no matter how hard he tries. There’s only Mike.