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It started ten days before Halloween.
Sunday, October 21st, 1990.
Mike doesn’t remember the exact hour (he could guess it was sometime in the evening) but he knows he was screwed the moment he saw Will in that costume.
Will wasn’t going to show him at first.
It was meant to be a surprise, but in the end, he couldn’t resist.
(It might have had something to do with Mike pinning him to his bed and tickling him… three times… until Will was out of breath, screaming he was going to pee himself, that he finally agreed to show Mike the costume.)
It was a tight striped top, red and silver, with a plunging neckline, pointy lapels and stiff, wing-like panels jutting out from the shoulders, paired with even tighter matching pants and red platform boots.
Mike knew immediately who Will was dressed as.
Ziggy Stardust.
“That good?” Will asked, winking at him.
Mike snapped his mouth shut.
He didn’t even realize he was blatantly ogling Will.
He gulped.
“It’s really good, yeah,” he nodded. “Are you gonna wear a wig, or…?”
“No,” Will laughed. “I’m just gonna do the makeup.”
The longer Mike looked at the costume, the more he wanted to reach out to Will and feel the fabric between his fingers.
He wanted to slowly pull the zipper of the top down until Will’s torso was exposed, he wanted to see Will shiver as the air hit his nipples, he wanted to run his fingers down Will’s chest and hook them behind the waistband of his pants and pull Will closer to-
Will was standing right in front of him, waving a hand in his face.
“Hello?” he chuckled. “Where did you go?”
“What?” Mike cleared his throat.
“You spaced out,” Will said, a smile pulling at his lips.
In that moment, Mike didn’t know it was just the beginning of what would become an onslaught of daydreams about Will.
By Halloween, Mike had almost convinced himself it had been a one-time thing. A temporary lapse in judgment. A completely understandable response to seeing his best friend in a tight, shiny costume with a zipper Mike could not stop thinking about. Everybody would react the same way.
Then the party happened.
Mike was dressed as Mick Jagger, fake guitar and all. It was Will’s idea.
He said Jagger and Bowie were best friends, so they were the perfect Halloween costume for Mike and Will. And who was Mike to say no to Will?
Seeing Will in the costume, with the lightning bolt makeup and his hair slicked back, dancing in the middle of the crowd, was something Mike thought he might not survive.
Will gave up trying to persuade him to dance with him after the third attempt. Mike preferred to keep to the edge of Will’s orbit, moving with the rest of their friends instead, because he needed a safe distance between them.
Not that it helped.
It didn’t stop him from picturing himself coming up behind Will and sliding his hands up and down his sides while Will’s arms wound through the air above him, didn’t stop him from imagining himself nosing into Will’s neck and-
A fellow dance floor enjoyer bumped into him, bringing Mike back to reality.
Will was dancing with his friend from… Art History?
Mike knew her from another party, but couldn’t remember her name.
He shook his head.
He was hopeless.
After Halloween, Mike tried to forget about it.
That didn’t work.
Because once his brain had started, it seemed determined to find new ways to ruin him.
It didn’t even need the costume anymore.
Sometimes all it needed was Will sitting on the sofa, stretching, his t-shirt riding up just enough to expose a sliver of skin right in Mike’s line of sight. Mike thought sitting in the armchair instead of next to Will on the sofa was safe. Apparently not.
Really, it was Will’s fault for not wearing a longer shirt.
If Will had been wearing a longer shirt, Mike wouldn’t have slipped into another daydream, imagining himself kneeling on the floor in front of him, spreading Will’s legs apart so he could fit between his knees and lick that strip of exposed skin-
“Mike?”
“What?”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m literally not.”
“You literally are.”
Approximately by the second week of November, Mike had learned that looking away didn’t always save him either.
Sometimes Will simply walked into the room and Mike’s brain rewired itself.
Will came out of the bathroom, hair wet and only a towel wrapped around his waist.
Mike had never seen him like this before.
Will always made sure to bring fresh clothes or his pajamas into the bathroom, but apparently that night he’d forgotten.
Water dripped from his hair, sliding down his neck and glistening on his skin.
Mike felt thirsty at the sight.
He wondered what it would feel like to walk up to Will and drink every single drop from his skin.
He wondered what would happen if Will’s towel suddenly slipped and dropped to the floor.
Mike would drop to his knees too-
The sharp ring of the doorbell cut through his fantasy.
Shit.
They’d ordered takeout.
Thank god the delivery guy saved him from the humiliation of being caught by Will.
After that, Mike tried to be more careful.
It didn’t help.
Because once his brain had started, it seemed determined to find new ways to ruin him.
One morning, Mike was cooking breakfast when Will walked into the kitchen and placed a hand on Mike’s waist to reach past him for a cup from the dish rack.
It only took a second for Mike to start picturing himself turning around, wrapping his arms around Will’s neck and pulling him in for a gentle kiss.
Just a short peck on the lips.
Then another one on his forehead, his nose, his cheeks.
Maybe one more-
“What?” Mike blinked.
“I’m asking if you want coffee or tea.”
There was a little frown on Will’s forehead.
“Uhm, whatever you’re having, I’ll have too.”
"You always say that."
“And yet you keep asking me.” Mike gave a small shrug. He never wanted to make Will go out of his way for him. Even if it was something like grabbing a can of coffee from the cabinet alongside a box of tea. Will preferred tea for breakfast, so Mike was going to have tea.
“I won’t anymore,” Will said, shaking his head, a smile playing on his lips.
Towards the end of the month, Mike's daydreaming had become such a regular occurrence that Will started to get concerned.
“You need to see someone.”
Mike blinked.
“What?”
“A doctor.”
“Why the hell would I need to see a doctor?”
“Because you keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“You just disappeared for like thirty seconds.”
“I didn’t disappear, I’m sitting right here.”
“Mike, I said your name four times.”
And the worst part was that sometimes the daydreams weren’t even dirty.
Sometimes Mike was busy picturing how cute and soft Will would look in one of his sweaters.
There was one specific sweater in his mind, light brown with blue details, the sleeves long enough for Will to pull them over his hands and hide his fingers inside the way he liked to do.
Another time, he imagined Will lying on the sofa with his head in Mike’s lap while Mike carded his fingers through his hair. Or Will waking up to the smell of fresh pancakes Mike had made for him, covered in honey because Will preferred it over maple syrup. Mike would bring the plate to his bed, nudge him until he made space, then slip under the covers beside him.
When Will called Mike into his bedroom, though, Mike’s mind supplied him with the image of Will sprawled out on the bed in nothing but his boxers, an inviting smile on his face.
“Mike, are you coming?”
Oh god.
How many times had he called him this time?
It got so bad that every mundane thing turned into a fantasy.
Will biting his lip.
Will leaning over Mike.
Will falling asleep on Mike’s shoulder when they watched TV.
Will hugging him goodbye before leaving the apartment.
Will licking Nutella off a spoon and moaning about how good it was.
Mike was immediately gone. That sound should've come with a trigger warning.
He didn’t know how long the daydreams lasted.
Could be seconds.
Could be minutes.
Mike wasn’t too concerned.
Well.
Maybe a little bit.
He knew it wasn’t exactly normal, but he was more concerned about the content of his little dreamy adventures.
Another thing he worried about was how thick the walls of their apartment were and whether Will could potentially hear him. Because Mike wasn’t going to let a good fantasy go to waste. He was storing them in a specific little drawer of his mind. A drawer he only opened when he needed to jerk off.
And he definitely needed that after the Nutella incident.
“Hey, random question, can you hear much through the walls?” Mike tried to sound as casual as possible, not like his heart was pounding in his chest, loud enough he barely heard his own words.
Will looked at him.
“Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“…sometimes."
Mike's soul threatened to evacuate his body.
Sometimes reality bled into the fantasy, and real Will trying to get Mike’s attention by repeating his name became Will in Mike’s head moaning it in bed instead.
“Michael!”
“Jesus, what?” Mike jolted. “Michael, really?”
“I’ve been calling your name for like a minute.”
“Oh.”
“You were doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“That thing where you look like you’ve left your body.”
God.
Will moaning Mike’s name definitely felt like an out of body experience.
“Seriously, Mike, I’m worried about you. You should really go see a doctor.”
“I appreciate your concern, Will, I really do, but I promise there’s nothing wrong with me.”
Well.
As far as picturing himself on his knees in front of his best friend in various scenarios, or licking water off said best friend’s body, went.
“You don’t know that, Mike. I don’t think this… spacing out, or whatever it is that's going on with you, is normal. At least not as often as it’s happening.”
Eventually, it escalated to the point where calling Mike’s name wasn’t enough to wake him up anymore.
Will had to resort to touching his shoulder, shaking him lightly, or snapping his fingers in front of his face.
He threatened to book the doctor’s appointment for him if Mike wasn’t going to see someone himself, so Mike had to agree to consult a professional.
He lied.
About a week after he lied about booking the appointment, Mike had his first real dream about Will.
Not a daydream.
An actual dream.
And it was sweet.
They went grocery shopping together, then came home and cooked dinner, exchanging smiles and kisses between chopping vegetables and boiling potatoes.
It only continued from there.
The dreams were fairly wholesome, and Mike usually woke up with a smile on his face after having one.
Until he walked into the kitchen and saw Will.
The actual Will.
Doing something ordinary and everyday, like pouring milk into his cereal.
And Mike got this horrible pang in his chest because he wanted to walk up to him and kiss him good morning, nuzzle into his cheek, ruffle his hair, and then kiss the top of his head.
Will was right there, painfully oblivious, while something inside Mike’s chest ached.
Will asked him how the appointment went.
Mike lied again and said they didn’t find anything, so… he must be okay.
Will didn’t seem convinced, but he dropped the topic.
Mike felt like a piece of shit for lying, but there was no way he was going to admit to anyone, doctor or Will, what was actually going on with him.
They got snow the second week of December, enough to enjoy a good snowball fight in the park without running out of ammo.
Will’s cheeks were red and he was out of breath, panting, his scarf discarded on the pathway behind him, and the sight of him was enough for Mike’s mind to drift.
Is this what Will would sound and look like during-
A snowball burst against his shoulder.
He’d been doing it again.
Leaving reality to fantasize about Will.
It wasn’t even the first time it happened that day.
Not even the second.
He was tired.
So tired.
He gave up and fell to his knees, then planted face first into a pile of snow.
He didn’t mean to, but he started crying, his tears carving tiny tracks into the snow beneath his face.
Will must have thought he was just being dramatic.
“Oh, come on, you sore loser, I’ll let you win the second round,” he laughed, then threw another handful of snow onto Mike’s back.
Mike didn’t reply.
He was worried his voice would crack, or that he would sound stuffy and Will would realize he was crying.
He was lying in a park, hiding his face in snow, his nose about to freeze off, and he was crying.
How pathetic.
The next thing he felt was Will’s hand on his back.
“Mike, are you okay?”
Mike shook his head, snow making its way up his nose.
“Mike, what’s going on?” Will asked, worry seeping through the question.
He tried to lift Mike up.
Mike resisted at first, but eventually let himself be pulled upright.
Will was kneeling in the snow next to him, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted.
Mike sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his gloved hand.
“There’s something wrong with me.”
“What?”
“There’s something fucking wrong with me, Will, I can’t make it stop.”
“Make what stop?”
“It’s been like… months.”
“What has?”
“I don’t know, I just… I keep…”
“Is it the… spacing out?”
Mike nodded.
“I thought you went to see a doctor, you told me-”
“I lied, okay?”
Will took a deep breath.
“Then we’re going to see one today. I'll take you to the hospital if I have to.”
“No.”
“Mike-”
“A doctor can’t fix it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Trust me, they can’t.”
“How do you know if you haven’t told anyone?”
“I just know, trust me.”
Mike grabbed a handful of snow and let it sift through his fingers.
Will threw his arms in the air.
“You’re scaring me, Mike. There must be a reason for you zoning out this often. It’s like you’re gone, your body is there but there’s no one inside.”
“I’m just daydreaming, okay?”
Will stared at him.
“What?”
“When I… go away, or whatever you call it. I’m daydreaming.”
“For months?”
Mike nodded.
“About what?”
Will wasn’t lying when he said Mike was scaring him.
He looked terrified, snow slowly collecting in his hair and melting on his cheeks.
How was Mike supposed to tell him?
God, this was so embarrassing.
“You,” Mike said, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
“What about me?”
“Everything.”
“I don’t… I don’t understand.”
“Just… things about you. About us… doing stuff?”
“Doing stuff?”
“Yeah. I started having dreams as well. Like actual dreams, when I’m asleep. We watch TV together and we cuddle on the couch, or we go out… holding hands. Sometimes we… kiss in the kitchen when we’re cooking...” Mike trailed off, refusing to meet Will’s eyes.
Will must have thought he had gone completely crazy.
“The daydreams are similar, just…”
“Just?” Will asked gently.
“Like just now, when I spaced out, I was…”
Mike swallowed.
“You were out of breath.”
“…okay?”
“And your face was all red and you looked…”
Mike closed his eyes again.
“And I started wondering if that’s what you’d look like if we-”
He couldn’t finish.
“Oh my god,” Will breathed out.
Mike kept digging his fingers into the snow, busying himself by examining the various snowflakes landing on his jeans, anything to avoid looking at Will.
“This is… definitely not what I was expecting,” Will said, voice shaky, “but I’m so relieved. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
Mike rubbed his gloved hands together, shaking loose clumps of snow from his palms, then he finally looked up at Will, who was smiling brightly at him.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like having an unrequited crush on your best friend when you fucking live with him?”
Will blinked.
“I see you all the time! There’s no break! You come out of the bathroom with your hair wet and a towel around your waist, you fall asleep on me when we watch movies, you walk around in those stupid pajama pants, you climb into my bed when you can’t sleep-”
“I’ve done that once.”
“Once too many!”
“Apparently.”
“And you’re always touching me.”
Will’s eyebrows shot up.
“You touch me too!”
“I know! That’s the problem!” Mike covered his face with his hands. The gloves smelled weird.
There was a pause.
“So, are you… into guys?” Will asked quietly.
Mike wiped his face with his sleeve.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I only have these fantasies about you,” he mumbled, “and I didn’t want to tell you because it’s fucking embarrassing, and I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to make it weird between us, which I just did, didn’t I?”
“Mike-”
“I’m just so glad you’re my best friend and I know I shouldn’t be thinking about you… like that, and I hope you don’t think I ruined everything-”
“Mike-”
“But if you want me to move out, I will. I just want to keep being friends if you think that’s still possible-”
“Mike! Stop rambling.”
Mike snapped his mouth shut.
Will softened immediately.
“I mean, it’s sweet, but please, listen to me. Why did you say it’s an unrequited crush?”
“What?” Mike sniffled.
“You told me I don’t know what it’s like to have an unrequited crush.”
“Well, yeah.”
“That’s not tr- wait, I guess it is true, technically, but I know what it’s like to think you have an unrequited crush.”
“What are you saying?” Mike asked carefully, not wanting to let the hope take root.
“Come on, Mike. I might not be zoning out like you, but I also daydream. I have fantasies too… about you.”
Will was grinning at him, cheeks flushed, and Mike couldn’t be sure if it wasn’t just from the cold, but he had a feeling the confession had something to do with it.
The hope was off the leash, filling every nerve, from his head to the tips of his toes.
He couldn’t help but smile back at Will.
He pulled one glove off with his teeth, then leaned closer and cupped Will’s face.
His skin was cold against Mike’s hand.
Will reached out and wrapped an arm around Mike’s middle, pulling him on top of him.
They fell backwards, the snow cushioning their fall, both laughing quietly.
When the laughter died down, Mike finally closed the distance between them and kissed Will. He could feel Will melting under his lips like the snowflakes on his lashes.
Mike didn’t care if the temperature was in the 30s.
All he could feel was the heat coiling in his stomach.
“Will,” he breathed out.
“What,” Will mumbled against his lips.
“It’s hard to kiss you when you keep smiling.”
“Sorry, I can’t help it.”
Mike tried again, but now he was smiling too, and it was practically impossible to kiss like that.
He pulled away and gave Will a quick kiss on the nose before pulling him up.
Will giggled.
Mike just stared at him.
“What is it?”
“Can we go home?” he asked.
He felt his cheeks getting red now too, hoping Will wouldn’t notice and, if he did, would chalk it up to the cold.
“Why, are you cold?” Will teased, probably knowing full well why Mike suddenly wanted to go home.
“No, I just want you to tell me about those fantasies you said you have about us and maybe find out if we can fulfill any of them.”
Will dropped his gaze to his hands folded in his lap. Then he looked back up at Mike, little crinkles forming around his eyes.
“Oh.”
"What do you think?" Mike bit his lip.
"I think I don't know which one to tell you about first."
They made it home with snow in their hair and laughter still caught between their mouths.
Later, when the park felt like something from another life, Will was lying back against the pillows, Mike settled between his legs and staring at him like he still couldn’t quite believe he was real.
“What?” Will asked.
Mike shook his head, smiling.
“Nothing, just…”
“Just what?”
“My daydreams were pretty detailed.”
Will’s cheeks somehow got even redder.
Mike grinned. “But wow.”
“Mike.”
“Reality is something else.”