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Will wakes screaming, again. It’s the fourth night in a row his tortured moans and flailing body, limbs tangling themselves in his sheets, yank Mike away from his own dreams with a forcefulness that has him tensing with his own horrible memories. For a brief moment, he thinks he’s back in Hawkins, paralyzed with fear at the low chirring of distant Demogorgans, or watching them claw into someone’s supple flesh. Then he snaps back into reality, into the drab, cramped dorm room he calls home now, and realizes, once again, it was Will who woke him.
Reality doesn’t drift back to Will as easily as it does for Mike. He thrashes in his bed until Mike hurries across the room for him, a steady hand on his heaving chest or pushing back the hair sticking to his gleaming forehead.
“Will,” Mike says, loud enough to be heard over Will’s strangled cries but not enough to frighten him. “Will. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe, now. I’m here.”
He repeats it like a litany until his words finally reach Will. It takes some time before Will’s breathing evens and he recognizes Mike by his side. His eyes tremble, glossy with budding tears. The look of terror on his face never fails to pain Mike. After all this time, the past still haunts him. Every night before they fall asleep, Mike prays for it to leave Will alone. But they never go longer than a handful of days before Will is kicking and screaming with nightmares again.
“Mike?” Will rasps out. His hand reaches out to grip Mike’s arm, fingers pressing hard into his skin. He needs to feel him to know he’s real.
“It’s me,” Mike assures. “I’m right here. You’re okay. It’s just a nightmare. Just another nightmare.”
The fight leaves Will’s exhausted bones. He lets out a shaky sigh as he eases against the mattress.
“I’m sorry.”
“You agreed you’d stop saying sorry,” Mike reminds him with a brush of his thumb over Will’s forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I’m sorry,” Will repeats in a distant mumble. He’s not entirely himself yet.
At first, Mike was unsure how to approach him when he got like this. He’s heard before that it’s dangerous to wake someone when they’re sleepwalking, but was this like that? They were nightmares, sure, but, from the way Will has described them before, they’re far more vivid. It’s like I’m there again, Will had said, hands fiddling in his lap.
But they’ve been living together for months now, never further than five feet apart in their dorm beds, so Mike’s learned what works and what doesn’t.
It works when he wakes Will like this, with gentle hands and words, telling him he’s safe. It works when he climbs into Will’s warm bed, turning him on his side and curling up against his back, an arm over his waist and his cheek pressed against his shoulder. They lie together like that until Will’s hiccupping gasps soften into steady breaths, until Mike feels him go limp in his arms and he knows he’s fallen back asleep. It always works.
He casts a look over his shoulder at the alarm clock between their beds. 3:47 AM. It was nearly half past four the previous night. Will’s sleeping less and less.
Will falls asleep in Mike’s arms, but Mike troubles himself with his worries far into the night. His arm around Will’s waist squeezes gently to bring Will closer to him. He nuzzles his face against Will’s shoulder, breathing in the light scent of his shampoo that clings to his hair and skin. He syncs his breathing to Will’s and, eventually, his eyes fall shut.
Mike keeps this to himself, but he sleeps better beside Will. This works for him, too.
—
The alarm blares and Mikes wakes irritated. He reaches to slam his fist against it but his hand collides with a wall brutally. He winces in pain and his eyes fly open to face his opponent. Stupid ugly wall and the poster of The Clash staring down at him.
Right. This is Will’s bed. The alarm clock is on the other side. He flips around and smashes the snooze button on the cursed thing. He digs the heel of his palm into his eye socket.
“You’re gonna break it one day.”
Mike removes his hand and blinks at Will at the other end of the room. He’s digging in his closet for a jacket, already dressed for class. Mike stupidly flays his hand out on the mattress, feeling the cool spot beside him.
“Good,” Mike groans. The clock reads 6:45. His head is killing him. He has to be out the door and in a lecture hall in fifteen minutes, and he didn’t get nearly enough sleep. “I thought your class was at nine.”
“It’s Thursday,” Will says, tugging a jacket free of its hanger. “I’ve got lab today.”
Did Mike even go to his lab this week? He can’t recall anything. It’s so early.
“Hey, Mike?”
He must’ve. He has lab on Tuesdays at five in the evening, which he remembers because it’s at such an inconvenient time. It’s at the worst time ever, actually, because he has class with Will right before and he always wants to grab dinner after but he can’t because he has fucking lab, and Will says it’s okay because he can always get dinner with fucking Carlton instead.
“Mike?”
“Yeah?”
Will sighs. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“You said you’d stop saying sorry,” Mike mumbles.
“I know, but that was before I woke you up for the fourth night in a row. I’m going to the medical center today to see if they can give me something. My mom told me to ask about melatonin. She says it helps you fall asleep and it’s probably a lot easier to get out here than in Hawkins.”
“It’s fine, Will, really,” Mike says. “Don’t worry about me. If your mela-whatever helps you sleep, I’ll be glad, but only because it’ll be helping you. I don’t care about me.”
“You can’t pretend this hasn’t been terrible for you. I know how much the little sleep affects me, so I know it’s affecting you, too.”
Mike finally sits up in Will’s bed. “I don’t care. Okay? You could wake me up ten times in the middle of the night, and I wouldn’t care. You have nothing to apologize for.”
Will bites the inside of his cheeks, still unconvinced. He’s fidgeting with his jacket in his hands.
“Maybe I can ask Carlton if I can sleep over for a few nights. I think his roommate’s usually gone—”
Frustration tightens Mike’s throat. “Stop, stop. Seriously, there is zero need. Will, come on. Do you really think Carlton’s gonna know what to do?”
“They’re just nightmares. I’m sure it’ll freak him out a little and he’ll probably be annoyed, but it’ll give you a break.”
“I don’t want a break,” Mike tells him, dead serious. “And they’re not just nightmares. Will, we have a routine! I know what to do. I know how to handle you when you get like that. He doesn’t know shit. He doesn’t know how to help you like I do. And the last thing I’ll do is leave you in the hands of someone who doesn’t know how to help.”
It’s no longer a shy shame that Will wears on his face. His embarrassment is replaced by a stoic and distant irritation when Mike finishes talking. Just a glimpse of it makes Mike tense, instantly reviewing the words he just said to find out where he went wrong.
“Really, Mike?” Will asks, tight and firm. “Handle? You know how to handle me?”
Mike blanches. “I didn’t mean it like—like anything bad.”
“Like I’m some pet dog who’s misbehaving?”
“No! God, no, Will, that’s not what I’m saying at all.”
“I don’t need to be handled. And Carlton’s not just some guy, he’s my boyfriend. My boyfriend who’s been kind to me ever since we started dating and who would not hesitate to help me if I needed it. You’re not the only person capable of looking after me.”
Mike pinches the bridge of his nose, wishing Will would snap out of this unnecessary affection that’s clouding his judgement and obscuring the obvious. “Will, be serious.”
“I am serious,” Will spits.
“It doesn’t matter who he is to you because, at the end of the day, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know everything. He can’t know everything,” Mike says, watching Will draw away from him in a way that says he knows Mike is right, he’s hitting a nail on the head. “You know who’s capable of dealing with your nightmares the way you need? Your mom. Jonathan. Lucas, Dustin, even. Sure, I’m not the only one, but he is not included in that list. Never anyone who wasn’t there because they can never know so they will never understand. Not fully.”
“Unless I tell him,” Will mumbles defensively. He doesn’t mean it really, Mike can tell he already knows it’s not a possibility, but he says it anyway to stir Mike.
“Yeah, go right ahead. Go tell him all about the interdimensional monsters that kidnapped you as a child and see how much longer he sticks around.”
“You’re being a dick,” Will says. He shoves his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and throws his backpack over one shoulder. “On purpose.”
“I’m not trying to be anything!” But Will is stuffing his keys in his pocket and opening the door. “Will! Would you just listen—”
The door slams shut behind Will and silence cuts through the room. Mike buries his face in his hand, wondering how it’s possible that he fucked up again. Maybe if he stopped talking forever, he’d do less damage. How is it that he is the only person in the world who never learned how to say the right things?
—
He gulps down two shitty vending machine coffees, even though he’s already ten minutes late to his lecture, and the second cup gets stuck in the dispenser and makes him even more late, but he figures he’ll need the caffeine to make up for the lack of sleep. One cup for each hour spent lying awake, is the math he does.
But halfway through the lecture, his notebook is still blank, pencil hovering over the paper eternally but never putting anything down. His professor is going on and on, decorating the blackboard in his characteristic indiscernible chalk scribbles, but it’s all nonsense to Mike. It isn’t nonsense, really, and his empty notebook is going to bite him so hard in the ass come midterms, but he cannot focus for the life of him. The two cups of coffee only keep him awake so he can torture himself with his own rambling thoughts.
It’s the fourth night in a row. The last time Will’s nightmares had a four-night streak was in the beginning of their first semester, right after they moved in, their dorm a mess of boxes they kept putting off organizing. Everything was new for the both of them, it only made sense that Will’s subconscious freaked out. One night was so bad, Mike had to call Mrs. Byers in the middle of the night, cringing at the sleepy rasp in her voice when she finally picked up, and ask her what to do.
He pointedly shoves away the line of thought that creeps into his mind that this means something more than terrible memories. They finished everything in Hawkins, he knows this. Nothing suspicious has happened since. If nothing’s happening there, why would anything be happening here? It’s just stress. Will is stressed.
Mike taps his pencil on his desk, trying to figure out what’s stressing Will out. They don’t have exams, his family is doing well, his friends are doing great. He prides himself on being able to read Will, better than Will even expects sometimes. He’s known him long enough to memorize all of his habits and mannerisms to use as guideposts for what he’s feeling. Whenever Will shuts him out and stews in his own thoughts and worries, if Mike watches him closely enough, he can figure out exactly what’s really going on. But he’s in the dark here.
He doesn’t pay attention to the rest of his classes, has a sad meal of undersalted meat and stiff vegetables at the dining hall, and when he returns back to the dorm, he’s exhausted by the shittiness of the day. He misses Will, and he wants to talk to him. He drafted an apology during one class and rehearsed the lines during the next, planning how he was going to sit Will down and explain himself, say he’s sorry. And, if Will is nice enough, maybe he’ll tell Mike what’s stressing him out.
But when he gets back to their dorm, in lieu of his best friend, he finds a note on his desk: Spending the night with Carlton. Sleep well
Fuck.
He crumbles the note and aims weakly at the trashcan. It misses by a whole foot.
He hates this. He hates that he can’t talk to Will. He knows what dorm building Carlton lives in. He’s walked Will there a handful of evenings, reluctantly, when Will had to cut their hanging out short for some preplanned date night. Why hasn’t he ever asked what Carlton’s room number is? There are only so many floors, surely Mike could find it if he looked long enough. People usually have their names hung up on the doors. He would just need someone to sign him in. Does he know anyone who lives in that building? He can’t recall. There was that girl from his lecture who asked him out a couple of weeks ago, Mike thinks he’s seen her heading that direction after class sometimes. But he threw out the note with her number she gave him. That was stupid of him.
He can’t do anything but wait until Will comes back, he forces himself to admit halfway through a scalding shower that steams up the entire bathroom but is still too cold to burn off the icky feeling that’s clinging to his skin. He shampoos four times without realizing it. His bottle makes a weak sputter when he squirts out a handful of soap for a fifth wash, and that’s that. Now he needs more shampoo.
Will’s probably showering right now, too. He usually showers at this time in the evening. Mike saw his soap in their room, so he must be using Carlton’s tonight. Mike digs his nails in the skin of his arms as he rinses. Carlton probably uses some shitty Irish Spring bar. Will hates the smell. Mike switched from it back in high school when he noticed Will grimacing whenever he got close enough to catch a whiff of it on Mike. He hasn’t touched the brand since.
When Mike climbs into his bed in a room that’s far too quiet to be relaxing, he pictures Will climbing into Carlton’s. Mike would love to imagine that they’ll sleep in separate beds, but he’s not entirely delusional. Does Carlton hold him the way Mike does? Is Will the one who curls up against Carlton’s back? Mike digs his palms against his eyes until his vision gets spotty.
To his credit, he does try to fall asleep. He closes his eyes and lies very still, waiting for sleep to take him, but nothing comes. He doesn’t even feel a whisper of exhaustion. His mind is racing at miles a minute, his fingers hum with excess energy, and he has the amount of adrenaline someone might have while jumping out of a plane.
Selfishly, he hopes Will is struggling to sleep just as much as he is. Selfishly, he wants Will to find that he relies on Mike’s presence to sleep just as much as Mike does his. But he erases that whim from his mind as soon as it drafts itself, feeling a sharp bite of guilt. The bigger, more mature part of him does wish that Will manages to find himself a full night’s rest. He wants it for him far more than he wants it for himself.
Mike tortures himself by staring at the clock. He counts the seconds between each minute, then the deciseconds between those, and gives up when he stumbles through his first count of centiseconds. This is horribly dull.
He looks over at Will’s empty bed. His sheets are still unmade from this morning, but that’s technically Mike’s fault. He was the last person there. Mike gets up and straightens the sheets on Will’s bed, evening his blanket and arranging his pillow in the middle. Will would appreciate it. He’ll appreciate it when he gets back. Mike gets back under his own covers and falls into the same boredom. It’s so quiet.
He watches a minute pass as the clock officially hits three in the morning, and then hears a rough knock against his door that startles him into a seat in his bed. There’s a mumble on the other side, hands scrambling against the wood followed by a key being shoved into the lock.
Mike doesn’t have anything nearby resembling a weapon. The closest thing is a stray pen in his bedside drawer, but he can’t stab an intruder to death with that. The lock clicks open. If he can make it to his desk, he can get to the lamp that could bludgeon someone enough for him to escape.
The door swings open and in comes marching Will, dressed in his rumpled pajamas and his face slick with his own tears, eyes rimmed with red. He slams the door behind him, standing by the entrance like a much smaller child. He’s trembling horribly all over, then he presses his face into his hand and his body shakes as he starts sobbing.
It’s a dreadful sound being wrangled out of him. He drains himself of breath with hiccupping coughs then takes in sharp, stuttering inhales. Mike kicks his sheets off onto the floor and nearly trips on them on his way to Will, cradling his shaking shoulders immediately.
“Will? Will, what happened? Are you hurt?”
“I’m sorry,” Will sputters. “You were right.” He removes the hand off of his face slowly to meet Mike’s frantic eyes with his wet ones. They’re so clouded with tears, Mike can hardly see their beautiful hazel color. His lips quiver, smeared with his own hysterical drool. “You were right. He can’t handle it. He can’t handle me.”
Mike’s stomach has never sunk so deeply at being told he’s right. It’s the worst feeling in the world. He wants to vomit. He clutches Will’s wet face in his hands.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here, don’t worry. Was it a nightmare?” Will gives an embarrassed nod, hands burying themselves in Mike’s sleeves. “It’s okay. That’s okay. Come on, come here.”
Mike leads him to his bed with a gentle hand on his back, herding him toward comfort. Will sits on his bed, though his knees wobble.
“What happened?” Mike asks, voice soft.
Will just shakes his head hurriedly. Mike’s not going to get anything out of him tonight. His eyes are too wild with terror.
“That’s okay,” Mike tells him. “Let’s just go back to bed now, yeah?”
Will doesn’t protest when Mike lays him down and drapes his blanket over his shivering body. Mike climbs in after him, pressing himself against every inch of Will he can. He needs Will to feel him to bring him back to reality. He turns Will on his side to face him and clutches him to his chest, tucking his head under his chin. Will’s arms reach around Mike’s waist, fingers against the notches of Mike’s spine.
“You’re safe. You’re okay. Nothing bad is happening. Nothing bad will happen. I’ve got you.”
“Mike,” Will whimpers.
“I’m here.” He presses his mouth to the top of Will’s head. He smells of stupid Irish Spring. “I’m here,” he mumbles against his hair.
Will makes small, pathetic noises into Mike’s shirt, wetting the fabric with his tears. Mike holds him close, wishing helplessly that he could bring him even closer, but he physically can’t.
“It was cold,” Will whispers, almost so quietly Mike couldn’t hear him. “It was so cold.”
“I know,” Mike says, heart shattering. “You’re not alone. I’m here with you. You’re safe.”
“He was—” Will chokes on a sob and stops himself. He shakes his head and weeps. Mike could hear how raw his voice would be in the morning.
Mike would give the world to go back and stop it all from happening. He’ll hate himself forever for not protecting Will enough. He doesn't deserve any of the suffering he went through, much less the memories that haunt him now. It should be over. It should be all over. But Will shivers in his arms now, and Mike’s stomach sinks with a deepening dread that it will never be over.
I’m so sorry, he wants to say but doesn’t because Will’s weeping has dulled and he doesn’t want to disturb the small peace he’s beginning to find. He presses a kiss to Will’s head before he can stop himself. It’s all he can do. He can’t change the past.
“I’ll never leave you,” Mike swears in a soft whisper, wondering if Will can even hear him. He’s never meant anything more. “I’ll always be here.”
Will’s crying doesn’t cease for a long time. It lessens to light whimpering and stuttering sniffles, but he doesn’t relax his iron grip on Mike, and Mike would die before he relaxes his own hold. He hugs him close when, eventually, the tension in Will’s body begins to fade. He keeps Will’s head against his chest when Will’s weeping evens into simple breathing. He presses his lips against Will’s forehead when, after a long stretch of what might have been hours, Will falls asleep.
Only then, can Mike find a whisper of calm. As slowly as humanly possible and with immense guilt, he pulls an arm away from Will to reach for the alarm clock and shut it off. He slides his arm back where it belongs, around Will, and, to the familiar sound of Will’s breathing, Mike is finally able to fall asleep.
—
Mike stirs awake at the sensation of something moving beside him. He squints when he opens his eyes, the morning sunlight streaming in from the blinds being far too intense until he adjusts to it. Then he opens his eyes fully and sees Will staring at him, propped in a seat beside him, blanket still over his lap.
“Sorry,” Will mumbles. “I was trying not to wake you.”
He looks horribly exhausted. His eyes are still pink and the skin underneath them is still puffy from all of his sobbing. The tear tracks on his cheeks have dried, but at the right angle, Mike can still make out their paths. His hair is a disheveled mess.
“It’s okay,” Mike croaks.
Will sniffles. His sinuses are probably still all fucked up. “You missed your class. It’s already past ten. I didn’t even hear the alarm.”
“Oh, that’s, uh, I turned it off.”
“What? Why?”
“We needed the sleep.”
“Mike.”
“It’s whatever. Attendance isn’t even graded. It doesn’t matter.” He places a hand on Will’s arm. “How are you doing?”
“Better. You?”
“Good. I couldn’t sleep when you were gone, so it was actually a lot better for me when you came back.”
Will wipes his nose with his sleeve. “I wasn’t much of a peaceful presence.”
“Any presence is better than none.” Then, when he spots a small, sad smile on Will’s face, he decides to take his chance. “What happened last night, anyway?”
Will swallows hard and shrugs. He’s trying to be casual about it but his swollen eyes give him away. “I had a nightmare, which woke Carlton up, of course. It wasn’t the worst, but it was a pretty bad one. Kicking and screaming, all of that fun stuff. It freaked him out so bad he fell off the bed. He had no idea what to do. I think he tried to touch me at some point, but that only made it worse.” He wipes his nose again. “He was asking me all these questions. Like what’s happening, what should he do, question after question. And I didn’t answer, of course. I was too deep into the memory. So he said he was going to go get the RA, and he left.”
The fury that passes through Mike nearly makes him violent. “He left?”
Will nods. “I think he was gone for some time, because I managed to calm down by myself a bit. But I was so embarrassed. I was humiliated. I couldn’t believe he’d just seen me like that, and he was going to get someone else to come look at me, and I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t bear that. So I left while I still had some of my bearings. And here we are.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah.”
“Shit, Will,” Mike breathes out and sits up so he can wrap his arms around Will’s shoulders in a tight hug. Will hugs him back gently. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Will says by his ear, but his voice is thick, his throat closing up with fresh tears threatening to appear. “I managed.”
“You weren’t supposed to.” Mike can’t believe he let Will go. He should’ve broken down Carlton’s door. “He was supposed to look after you.”
Will pulls himself away and Mike, despite himself, lets him. Will presses his sleeve against his eyes.
“Well, that was one way to make sure I never leave,” he says, though the half-hearted joke comes out so sad. “I’m sorry you’re stuck dealing with me.”
“It’s not like that,” Mike tells him, hand on his shoulder to make sure he really understands. “I already told you. You’re not a burden.”
Will nods in acknowledgement, but not quite understanding. Mike wants to dig his fingers into his shoulder and tell him again and again until it finally reaches him. Why can’t he believe him? Mike feels like he’s shouting into open air.
Will starts spacing out in front of him, gaze locked onto nothing, just empty staring. He’s recalling his nightmare. Mike clears his throat and gives him a good-natured squeeze of his shoulder to snap him out of it. Will blinks back into reality.
“Come on, let’s get dressed,” Mike tells him gently, watching Will nod. “We’ll take it easy today.”
—
Mike dislikes the dining halls in general, because their standards rest at a perpetually lower rack than what the rest of the population would call food, but he despises them especially today when he walks in with Will and finds that their options for lunch are stew with beef so overcooked its practically chewing gum or lemon tilapia, a marvel of the culinary world for being the most bland pairing in all existence. He hates that Will can’t even get a good meal today. Will drifts toward the cereal and Mike follows his example, opting for yet another meal of Lucky Charms.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Mike begins hesitantly as they find some seats at the end of a table. “And it’s okay if you don’t want to answer. I don’t mean to make things worse.” Will quirks an eyebrow. “This is the fifth night in a row. Your nightmares haven’t been this bad since the first week of school.”
“It’s stress,” Will supplies. “They get worse when I’m stressed, I know.”
“That’s the thing. What exactly are you so stressed about? Because, if I can help you, then please, tell me.”
“It’s not anything you can help me with,” Will says, dipping his spoon in and out of his bowl. “It’s…a bunch of things, I guess. A big pile up. School, being away from home. All that.”
“But you’re always at school. You’re always away from home. Why are things getting worse now?”
“Will?”
Mike tenses at the interruption. He turns his head toward the voice and instantly regrets bringing Will somewhere anyone else can speak to him or even see him, because he spots Carlton rushing over.
“Jesus, I was looking all over for you,” Carlton sighs, his hand finding a spot on Will’s shoulder like it belongs there.
Mike narrows his gaze. He doesn’t bump into Carlton often, not when he can help it. He’ll cross the street if he spots him just to avoid a meaningless exchange of small talk and dancing around the topic of Will because they’re both somehow trying to prove that they’re able to have a conversation that doesn’t involve their mutual connection. They’re their own people, they should be able to talk, right? Carlton asks him about classes, Mike gives him some bullshit answer, and they go on their merry way.
Mike doesn’t want to talk to Carlton, the person. He’s disinterested enough in Carlton, the boyfriend. He doesn’t care what he thinks or likes. He prefers Carlton best when he’s not in his mind and certainly not in his field of vision.
Yet here he is, scruffy curls and a pretentious collared long sleeve that makes him look like he’s trying to blend in at his dad’s yacht club. Not that his dad has a yacht club, Mike has no idea. He’s the brand of dickhead who would have a dad with a yacht club.
And the goddamnned necklace. A key on a silver chain hanging around his neck that would be an innocently laughable fashion choice if it weren’t for the lock pendant necklace that Will wore in a matching silver. They were matching necklaces that Carlton bought them two months into dating. A lock and key. How unoriginally tacky. The pinnacle of romance, this guy. Mike finds that, with great effort, he can sometimes ignore the necklace on Will, but when Carlton’s standing right next to him with the other half, Mike can’t ignore anything and it makes his skin crawl.
“Are you okay?” Carlton asks, like he cares. “I was so worried, you just disappeared last night without a word.”
Will spares him a meaningful look before he turns back to staring at his bowl. His posture is all stiff and weird.
“I’m fine, I just needed to get back to my room,” Will tells him politely. “To calm down. And sleep.”
Carlton opens and closes his mouth like a fish gaping for food flecks in a tank. He tightens his hold on Will’s shoulder. “Listen, can we talk?” For the first time since he interrupted, his eyes flit to Mike. “Alone?”
“Hey, man,” Mike says. “Nice to see you again, too.”
It makes Carlton uncomfortable enough to scramble for his manners. “Hey, Mike. Sorry for barging in. I just need to talk to Will for a sec.”
“No worries,” Mike tells him, gesturing to the open seat beside Will. “Go right ahead. Don’t mind me.”
Carlton blinks at him in a mix of confusion and disbelief. He looks to Will like he’s expecting him to jump in and fix things in his favor. Go on, Will, tell your roommate to heel. Did he expect Will to do all of his bidding?
Will doesn’t protest. He shoots Mike a quick look that’s probably supposed to be placating because he picked up on Mike’s distaste for Carlton months ago and he likely doesn’t want him making things weird for everyone. He turns to Carlton expectantly.
“Um, okay,” Carlton drawls, making a show of pulling out the chair beside Will and sitting down in it with a long stare at Mike to indicate his displeasure. Unfortunately for him, Mike takes great enjoyment in his discomfort. But it’s the last look he gives Mike before turning his whole body toward Will. “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay. We’re okay, yeah?”
Will nods slowly. “Sure.”
“Because you left so suddenly that I didn’t know if you were, like, mad at me or something.”
“You left me,” Will reminds. “When I woke up.”
“I was trying to get help,” Carlton insists. “I didn’t know what was happening! I didn’t know if you were having a seizure or something. What if you needed medical attention? Or a hospital? Was it a seizure?”
“It was a nightmare.”
“Well, it was a real fucking freaky one. You scared me. I’m sorry I left you, but I was so terrified you were going to die or something, I needed to get you help.”
“I told you they were bad,” Will tells him, pressing his fingers down on the table for emphasis. “I told you. I warned you.”
“I didn’t know it would be that bad. I’ve seen nightmares before, but not like that, okay? I didn’t know what to do. I was just freaked out. You have to give me some grace. It was scary. You were scary. You can’t blame me for that. Anyone would be freaked out.”
“I manage,” Mike cuts in, pointedly not looking at either of them like his marshmallow milk suddenly turned extremely interesting. “Every night.” Nearly every night, is the real answer, but the truth lessens his point so he sticks to the extreme.
He flicks his eyes up at Carlton, who’s glaring at him with open offense. “What?”
“Do you know who’s usually there when Will has his nightmares? Me. And I’ve never left him. Not once. If you can’t handle it, that’s not Will’s fault. That’s yours.”
“I never said it was his fault. I said it was scary, which it was. Oh, I’m sorry, does being woken up to screaming not scare brave Mike? I forgot who I was speaking to. Forgive me, Mike, you’re a big boy.”
Mike shrugs. “Never bothered me.”
“You’re full of shit, man.”
“Carlton—” Will tries to cut in.
Carlton doesn’t let him. “Why are you even here? Don’t you have somewhere to be? Or is your only purpose being Will’s guard dog?”
“Why are you here? No one invited you. You were looking all over for Will, but he didn’t even spare you a thought. We were having a nice lunch just the two of us before you decided to ruin it.”
“Oh, yeah, really nice. How romantic. Should I light a candle?”
“Mike,” Will interrupts firmly. His tone makes Mike close his mouth shut. “Could you leave us? Please?”
Mike goes cold with frenzied anger. Mike is the one who has to leave? He was here first, he’s the one who held Will throughout the night when Carlton left him, but he has to leave?
He wants to push back out of instinct, but Will’s looking at him with big glassy eyes and he can’t find the words. The tremble in his gaze spurs Mike into action and freezes him in place at the same time. He’s pleading Mike to leave but there’s an uneasiness to his look that’s begging him to stay.
Mike doesn’t want to leave him. He’s still so shaken up from last night. He swore he would glue himself to his side to make sure he’s okay, and he doesn’t trust Carlton for one second to catch him if he falls.
In the end, Mike can’t not listen to Will.
“I’ll see you later,” he tells Will, meaning it to be a threat. I better see you later.
Will nods. Carlton doesn’t try to hide his smug smile as Mike collects his stuff and flees the godforsaken dining hall, ignoring the snide goodbye remark Carlton makes.
—
Will heeds Mike’s earlier threat and returns to their room in the evening, quietly, setting down his bag without a hassle or a word.
“Hey,” Mike says, casual.
Will slings his jacket over the back of his chair and turns to Mike. “Hey.”
Mike spots the stupid lock necklace that’s still hanging around his neck. He grips his pencil tight in his hand.
“Did your little talk go well?” he asks, much less casually than he wanted to come across as.
“It went fine,” Will says. “It’s fine now. We’re fine. I guess I didn’t scare him off too badly.”
Mike can’t help himself. “But you didn’t break up with him?”
Will lets out a laugh that’s too rough to have any real humor to it. “Are you serious? No. No, I did not.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?”
“The guy left you, Will! He left you alone in his room when you had a nightmare, when you needed someone with you. He just ran off.” He forces himself to loosen his hold on his pencil before he snaps it. “I don’t get why you don’t just break up with him. He wouldn’t do that if he actually cared about you.”
Will shakes his head. “It’s not that easy.”
“It’s pretty easy actually. I would know. You just say, ‘I’m breaking up with you.’ It’s real easy.”
“Not that. It’s just—” Will cuts himself off to take a breath. He runs a hand through his hair and rests it on his hip. “How many gay guys do you know?”
“What?”
“It’s not a trick question. I’m asking, genuinely, how many gay guys do you know?”
Mike’s brain short circuits. He chokes out a mess of nonsense noises under Will’s expectant gaze before he finds any sound that resembles a proper word.
“There’s—there’s, you know, there’s you, there’s Carlton, there’s…that girl in our class last semester! Remember her? Short bangs? I think she had a girlfriend. She’s not a gay guy, but you know, I’m sure she knows someone. I caught a guy jacking off to a Playgirl by the urinals last week.”
Will scoffs out a laugh. “Great. Yeah. That’s real nice. My dating options are Carlton and the guy jacking off by the urinals. Don’t you see? I have no options, Mike. I’m not like you. You have the entire half of the student population at your disposal. You can go on a hundred dates a week. You can have a new girlfriend a month if you want. I can’t. I can either be with Carlton, or I can be alone.” He sighs. “He’s not perfect. I know that. I can see that. But he’s nice. He’s really nice, and he’s been really good to me. He takes me out and he buys me dinner and he walks me to my dorm after. It’s nice to have that company, okay? I’ve never had that. I’ve never been able to have a boyfriend before.”
A tight pain blooms in Mike’s chest. “You deserve more than just company.” He’s amazed he manages to say it without bursting into frustrated tears. “You deserve someone who truly cares for you, someone who can give you everything.”
“Yeah? Like who?”
Mike’s throat dries. He forces himself to swallow. Like him. How many times has he daydreamed of all the things he could give Will? He has a mental list of places he’d take Will on dates, if he’d let him. He thinks about it all the time.
Mike wants to bite down on his lip in terror, but he opens his mouth instead. “Like me.”
Will shakes his head sadly. Mike watches with intent anxiety as Will approaches him and sits down on his bed beside him. There’s a deep sorrow in his eyes. “You’re my best friend, Mike, and I love you, but you can’t give me everything. Not everything I want.”
Mike is certain his hands are trembling where he has them placed firmly on his knees. They’re itching to reach out for Will. He hears his heartbeat in his temple.
“You’re my best friend, Will.” It’s now or never. He hates that that’s the truth. Hates that it’s hitting him now. Mike is not brave. He’s the biggest coward in the world. “I love you.” All he needs is to pretend to be brave for one second. He needs to find it within him. It makes his stomach turn. There is no explanation as to why his body can’t differentiate between telling Will the truth and being held at gunpoint. “And I can.” In a soft whisper, he adds, “I can give you everything.”
He can’t wait for Will to understand. He’s not brave enough to be patient. He sees the strange flicker of confusion in Will’s eyes and his body jumps into action like some suicidal attempt to do everything he wants before it all implodes before him and he’s forced to face his consequences. He lunges forward, knocking the air out of both of their lungs as he presses his lips clumsily against Will’s in a kiss.
There’s a brief second after Mike pulls away that he realizes he’s ruined everything. His mouth is still humming with the sensation of Will’s lips, itching to chase the stimulation again, but his body goes cold with dread. He’s ruined it all. He was selfish and got excited, and now he’s destroyed his friendship with Will. Will doesn’t want him like that, how could he be so stupid? Did he really think so highly of himself that he was convinced Will would like him back? He has a boyfriend, for Christ’s sake. Mike has been selfish for so long, stealing away moments of physical affection when Will is too terrified to push him away. He’s going to move out now and take all of his stuff and tell everyone what a freak Mike is. He’s going to leave him.
Then Will clasps a hand on the back of Mike’s neck and pulls him forward to connect their lips again, and everything is right with the world.
It’s so much better than he ever dreamed it to be. It’s dangerous how much the taste of Will in his mouth ignites the nerves in his body. He could swallow him whole. He can’t get close enough. He pushes himself further, pulls Will closer by his shirt, and it’s not enough. There’s a pathetic, desperate noise that passes between them and Mike is certain it came from him. He’ll be embarrassed by it later.
Then Will forces a hand between them and pushes Mike back. Mike draws a sharp intake of cool air and misses Will immediately. Will shakes his head frantically.
“No, we can’t. We can’t, this is wrong. This is all wrong,” Will stammers.
Mike’s heart is beating so loudly, he can hardly hear himself think. “Why? Because of Carlton?”
Will freezes, caught off-guard. “No, that wasn’t—I mean, yes! Yes, fuck! Carlton!” He fists his hands in his hair. “Fuck. No, I meant you! You’re doing this for all the wrong reasons. You don’t really want this. You’re just doing this to prove something. You want to prove that you can save me. You’re always so obsessed with being this savior of mine, but there’s just some things you can’t help with, okay? You can’t save me from this.”
Mike blinks. “You forgot about him. Didn’t you? You forgot about him when I kissed you.”
“No, shut up.” Will is flushed pink. “You’re not listening.”
“I am. The only thing I want to prove is how much I want you, Will. I want exactly what you want. I love you in every way. More than a friend. More than anything. I can give you everything.” Mike is aware he’s begging. He can’t find the shame in it. “I want to give you everything. Please. Let me.”
Will pokes his bottom lip out in a small pout. It’s glossy with Mike’s saliva. That realization makes his head spin.
“I don’t want you to lie to me,” Will tells him, voice so tiny and afraid.
“I’m not saying things just to say them,” Mike insists. If Will can listen to him just once, truly listen, he wants this to be what he hears. “I mean them. I really, really mean them. Will, for Christ’s sake, why do you think I hate Carlton so much?”
“Because you like to be a dick.”
“Yeah, when you’re involved. When it’s about you, I get the worst. You bring out the worst in me.”
Will rolls his eyes. “You’re great at compliments, you know that?”
“Because I care so much for you,” Mike finishes. He’s brimming with words he wants to say that they get all jumbled. He needs to make Will understand. “I’m so…weird about you. Everyone knows. How many times has Lucas made fun of me about it? I didn’t understand it for so long, I didn’t get why you made me so insane. When you’re involved, everything I feel is dialed up to a hundred. But I know now that it’s because I love you so goddamn much, and I don’t know what to do about it. I have all this love for you, and I don’t know where to put it. I have no outlet. So I get weird and annoying and I snap at people when I don’t mean it.”
“You snapped at Carlton,” Will points out in a mumble.
“Well, I meant that one, he was an asshole.”
“Mike—”
“My point is,” Mike begins, pressing his hand against Will’s warm cheek, “you make me feel so much. And the longer I go without telling you, the worse it gets, so I’m sorry I waited so long, but I’m telling you now. You deserve someone who can give you everything, I mean it, and I’m asking you, selfishly, to let me try. Because I will do a damned good job. I’ll love you so hard, you won’t even know how to handle it.”
Will smiles. Mike’s heart stutters in his chest. It’s trying to leap out of his throat and into Will’s hands.
Mike presses their foreheads together. “Please tell me I didn’t wildly misread everything.”
A gentle laugh bursts out of Will. He shakes his head. “You didn’t misread anything. I guess I’m the one who misread you. I love you, too.”
“I love you so fucking much.”
Mike connects their lips again in a greedy kiss that Will indulges him in. Every piece of the universe slots into place. He hadn’t even realized how off-kilter his entire existence had been until this very moment where it rights itself. Everything is right now.
Will’s mouth is warm and beautiful against his own. He puts a hand on Mike’s knee and Mike instantly wants him to touch him more. He slides a palm against Will’s back as he lowers him down on the bed, careful to make sure his head rests on Mike’s pillow. Will lets himself be maneuvered and lets Mike position himself between his legs, leaning over him without ever breaking their kiss.
Mike slides his hand down Will’s neck and his palm scrapes against the chain of Will’s necklace. He hooks his fingers under it and gives it a firm tug until he feels it snap. The chain and the stupid lock pendant falls into his hand and he tosses it onto the floor. Will’s hand flies to his newly bare neck with a gasp.
“Mike.”
“Cheap motherfucker couldn’t even buy you something that wouldn’t break,” Mike mumbles against his mouth.
Will lets out a soft laugh that Mike swallows with a kiss. “And you could?”
“I will. Oh, I’m gonna buy you so many fucking necklaces.” Mike feels hysterical. “I’m gonna buy you the whole world.”
Mike feels the vibration of the giggles that bubble out of Will against his chest. “You’re broke, Mike.”
“Who fucking cares?”
Nothing has ever been less important. Nothing has ever been more important than kissing Will again, which he does. Again and again and again.
“For the record,” Will whispers somewhere in the middle of their kissing, lips swollen, reddening marks on the expanse of his neck. Mike’s handiwork. “This is what I was stressed about.”
“What?”
“You. Him. You not being him.” He kisses Mike. “Among other things. I guess the longer I went on, the more stressful it got.”
“You should’ve told me,” Mike grumbles. “I would’ve fixed it in an instant.”
Will chuckles. “That’s good to know next time.”
“No next time,” Mike tuts. “Only this.”
Mike quickly learns just how much they can say without speaking another word.
They fall asleep tangled in Mike’s bed and, for the first time in five days, they both sleep through the entire night.
It’s not the end. It’ll only be so long before Will has another nightmare, Mike knows, but he meant it when he said he’ll never leave Will. No matter what, he’ll be right by his side.