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"It's not my fault you don't like girls!" Mike snapped, hands gesturing wildly as the rush of emotions shot out of him faster than he could catch himself.
The regret hit him instantly, even harsher when he saw Will's angry expression fall, shifting to something softer, more hurt.
He hadn't meant to say that.
He didn't know what exactly he had been aiming for, but it wasn't that.
That wasn't true. He didn't mean it.
He was just—
He—
"I'm sorry." Mike mumbled after a beat, "I—" He tried, but Will was shaking his head.
Rejecting it.
Mounting his bike.
Something cracked in Mike's chest and if he hadn't been stuck in this very moment, he might have actually understood what it was.
Will put his feet on the pedals.
"You can't go out in this storm—" Mike urged, but Will ignored him.
Will ignored him.
Will never ignored him.
Mike stood, shell-shocked at his own words, as Will rode off into the pouring rain, his hair flattening and clothes sticking to him within seconds of leaving the cover of the garage. Mike almost thought he saw him shiver, but whether or not he'd imagined that was lost in the waves of his own thoughts as they flooded his mind.
Logic and emotion clashed, conflicting realities fought for control.
Mike felt nauseous.
Fuck. Fuck.
Mike ran inside the house, grabbing his raincoat and pulling his arms into the sleeves so fast he heard the fabric squeak.
He had to follow him.
He had to.
No matter what he ended up saying, he had to.
He couldn't let Will bike alone in this storm, at night, without so much as a jacket.
It wasn't safe.
Will wasn't safe.
Mike's mind had been made up the second Will had put a hand to his handlebar.
"Shit…" Mike cursed as he kicked up the kickstand of his bike, mounting it and rolling out of the garage. He pointedly ignored the crash of the rain on his head and shoulders, how the cold seeped through his raincoat instantly, permeating his skin and sinking into his bones before he'd even hit the street.
This wasn't a normal summer storm. It was too cold, too heavy.
Pedaling as fast as he could muster, Mike headed towards the Byers house with the kind of familiar urgency that could only come with eight years of friendship preceding it.
"WILL?!" Mike shouted, knocking on the front door of the Byers house for a third time. There were no cars in the driveway, and all the lights were off.
Will couldn't be in there. He surely would have answered by now, knowing the weight of the storm and the fact that Mike was looking for him.
Even if they were fighting, Will had never ignored Mike to this degree. He couldn't be.
He couldn't.
"Shit!" Mike cursed again, kicking the door in frustration. If only he hadn't been so impulsive. If only he'd thought before saying the first thing that had come to mind. He hadn't meant to direct that thought at Will. It wasn't about him. It never was. It was—
Mike turned and hopped down the porch steps, getting to his bike before he could finish that thought.
It was scary.
He was scared.
At the very least, he could admit that he was scared.
He mounted his bike again, heading towards the woods. They were dark, no streetlights or moonlight guiding him, but he knew Hawkins like the back of his hand. He knew exactly where he was going.
He knew exactly where Will had gone.
Must have gone.
'Please,' Mike thought in a loop, almost a prayer, 'Please be there.'
Mike hit a bump; a tree root. He was close. He knew it.
He dropped his bike, stumbling to find his balance without losing his momentum.
Will.
He had to be out here.
He had to be.
He had to.
"WILL?!" Mike called again, hearing his voice crack.
No, break.
It broke.
He was on the verge of tears.
"WILL?" Mike tried again, as Castle Byers came into view.
Will was standing in front of it, a baseball bat held loosely.
He dropped it at the same time Mike gasped in recognition.
"WILL!" Mike exclaimed as he ran to him, the rain beating down harder in the small clearing in the woods, but it didn't matter.
"Mike—?" Will asked as he turned around, but Mike didn't give him time to finish his sentence.
"I'm sorry, Will, I'm so sorry— I didn't mean to say that, not to you, it wasn't— it wasn't meant for you, I swear, it was— I said the first thing— and it wasn't— it was me, Will, it was my thought and I panicked and pushed it onto you and—" He was rambling and he knew it, but the words wouldn't stop pouring out of him. He had to make Will understand. He couldn't let him think he would ever say something like that to him. About him.
"Mike!" Will cut him off, eyes wide and wet hair framing his bewildered face, "Slow down, I can't understand you."
Mike took a deep breath, the feeling of the rain beating down on him oddly steadying; grounding. He could do this. He had to. He couldn't risk the alternative.
"I'm sorry. I never meant to say that to you. It—" He crossed his arms over himself, partially for warmth and partially for comfort, "I said the first thing that came to mind, but it wasn't about you. It was a me thought." He admitted, feeling redundant and vague.
Will shook his head almost imperceptibly, "What are you trying to say, Mike?" He asked, genuine confusion thick in his tone.
There was a long pause. It hung in the air between them, as thunder cracked from above and the raindrops sliding down Mike's face blurred his vision. He blinked them away, wiping his eyes.
Will looked confused, sure, but also… apprehensive, upset.
"I—" Mike started, the words catching in his throat. Will's eyebrows raised slightly; probably unintentionally.
"I—" He tried again, but he couldn't.
He couldn't say it.
He couldn't.
He couldn't.
He couldn't.
"Mike?" Will said his name softly. So softly. The same soft way he always did, when Mike was upset.
Do something.
The thunder cracked again, prompting Mike into action. He stepped forward, into Will's space. In one fluid motion, he grabbed his face, closing the remaining space between them and pressing a kiss to his lips, soft but insistent. It wasn't warm; they were both chilled to their core, the storm having sapped them of any remaining body heat. Mike pulled back before Will had a chance to react, shifting his weight back on his feet so he had returned to his original position.
"That." Mike said, "That's what— I'm trying to say." He let the words hang in the air. He could elaborate. He didn't think he needed to. He couldn't tell if he regretted it or not. There wasn't enough time in the silence for him to figure it out, before Will responded.
"It was… a you thought…" He mumbled, like he was piecing it together. Mike couldn't tell with what tone he was connecting those dots, and that uncertainty scared him.
The weight of what he had done hit him like a truck full of nausea and fear, all twisted into one violent sensation clutching at his lungs and forcing the air in them to sour.
"I should go home." He spat out suddenly, his voice shaking with the effort, "I'm— I'm sorry, I—" He cut himself off, already turning around, trying to walk away.
Why did he do that?
Why did he kiss Will?
Why was he so stupid?
He'd only taken one step when he was halted.
"Mike—" Will grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
Mike was shaking. He was shaking.
It wasn't the cold. It was the fear.
It was the shame.
"I'm sorry." He mumbled, barely audible amongst the sound of the rain and the wind and the thunder, amongst the sound of Mike's own heart beating out of his chest, the shaking in his bones he was sure was audible.
"Don't." Will insisted, pulling on his wrist until he turned around. Mike avoided his gaze, looking past him at Castle Byers.
His eyes widened.
"You destroyed it." He said, the words tumbling out. Will turned, shoulders slumping as he saw the damage he must have inflicted just moments before Mike had shown up.
"It's stupid." Will said, finally. Resolutely.
Mike met his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed, expression tight. Reserved.
Guarded.
"You're not stupid. I've—" Mike inhaled sharply. He'd already made one mistake, he may as well dig the rest of his grave, "I've been a shitty friend. You were right. I've spent all summer trying— trying to prove something. To myself, and— I guess, to everyone else. And in the process I've completely ruined the party." He stated, repeating Will's words from earlier.
Will, whose hand was still holding his wrist.
"I'm just scared of losing you." Will admitted, his voice soft, meek. All of the guardedness and bite from earlier was gone, replaced with the quiet honesty Mike was used to Will showing him.
Mike felt his throat close up. He didn't want to cry, but he wasn't even sure it would be noticeable if he did. Every inch of him was soaking wet already.
"Me too." He said, purposefully putting as much volume into the confession as he could, to combat the storm, "I thought if—" Mike swallowed hard, fighting the burn of stifling his urge to break, "—if I was honest, it would push you away. I didn't… realize I was already doing that." He finished lamely, not having a better way to phrase it.
Will dropped his wrist.
Mike felt his heart drop, but the feeling was quickly replaced with a jolt of surprise as Will crashed into him in a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around him. They were freezing, and soaked, and there was no real warmth gained, but Mike clung to Will like a fireplace in winter anyway. He broke; shaky sobs escaping him in bursts as he buried his face in Will's shoulder, the scratchy fabric of his wet shirt a grounding discomfort against his cheek.
They stood there; embracing like they were each other's only anchor in a turbulent sea, for just long enough to let their respective words sink in.
Mike sobbed, Will held on tighter, and for the first time all summer, Mike, bizarrely, felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Eventually, Will let go of him, or at least partially. His hands stayed on Mike's arms, holding him steady as the rain continued to pelt them from above.
The depth of how cold Mike was had finally begun to catch up to him, and he found himself shaking for reasons entirely separate to his emotional turmoil.
"We need to go home." He managed to say, a full-body shiver wracking his body as he wrapped his arms around himself.
"Yeah." Will agreed, but before Mike could start to move, Will was in his space again, grip tightening slightly on the sleeves of his raincoat.
Mike's arms fell to his side just as Will leaned in, kissing him with all of the softness and hesitance Mike might have expected, had he been able to expect any of this happening at all.
Despite the cold, and the rain, and the questions fighting for importance in Mike's mind, he let himself kiss back, hands finding Will's hips like they belonged there. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for them to lean closer to one another.
Mike had kissed El dozens, maybe even hundreds of times in the six months they'd dated, before she broke up with him. He knew what kissing felt like; or at least, he had thought he knew.
Kissing Will was everything he had secretly prayed kissing El would be.
The realization of what that meant was a lot less scary when Will was the one kissing him first.
When Will pulled back, he didn't go far. Mike didn't either. For a moment, they stared at each other, curiousity the prevailing emotion, oddly enough. It was as if Mike was seeing Will in a new light, from an angle he'd never let himself indulge in.
Pretty.
Even soaking wet, hair a mess, face a mosaic of competing expressions… Will was pretty.
"Let's go before we get sick." Will muttered, and Mike simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
He followed Will into the thicker part of the woods, where the rain couldn't as easily attempt to drown them. They moved quickly, not wasting time as the bone-deep chill propelled their feet.
They got back to where Will had left his bike, but Mike couldn't remember what direction his was in.
"Where's— Where's your bike?" Will asked, as he swung a leg over his own. Mike gaped dumbly, his mind too clouded to form a coherent sentence. All he could feel was cold.
"I— I don't think I'll be able to find it in the dark." He finally responded. Will pedaled over to him, gesturing for him to get on the back. Mike obeyed, not letting himself think too hard about it as he wrapped his arms around Will's torso.
The next twenty minutes passed in a blur for Mike, the permeating sensation of being cold and drenched overwhelming any of the other thousand thoughts he could be having.
They had stayed out in the storm far too long. Longer than was safe, with the short-sleeved shirts and shorts they were wearing. Mike's raincoat had barely done a thing to help.
Will skidded his bike to a stop in his front yard, the two boys peeling themselves off of it and jogging to the front door. Pulling out a key from his pocket, Will unlocked the door with shaky hands, throwing it open.
Mike hurried inside on Will's heels, the warmth of the heated living room washing over him so quickly it made him feel nauseous from the whiplash. He felt the sudden urge to lay down.
"C'mon." Will prompted, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards his bedroom. Mike simply followed, not having the energy to determine if he was going in the right direction.
Will let him go to open his dresser drawer, pulling out what looked to be pajama pants and a sweater. Something warm. Dry.
Mike stood in the doorway, shivering.
"Here." Will said, handing him the clothes, "Go get changed. We can talk when we're not about to get hypothermia." He assured.
Mike nodded, turning and heading for the Byers' bathroom.
The bathroom, like the rest of Will's house, was so familiar to him at this point that it very well could have been his own bathroom and in his current state, he might not have even noticed. Mike closed the door, wasting no time in peeling off his soaked clothes. His hair was dripping wet as well, so he pulled a towel off the rack and used it to pat himself down, before pulling on the clothes Will had given him.
He was dry. Mostly. He was warming up, finally.
That was when the panic started to set in.
"It's not my fault you don't like girls!"
Mike had kissed Will.
…Will had kissed him back.
Mike leaned against the wall, sliding down to the tiled ground. He drew his knees up, hiding his head in them. God, what had just happened?
The feeling in his stomach was hard to describe. It wasn't quite regret, but he wasn't quite happy either. He felt… twisted up, rung out, and left to hang on a clothesline. He felt like he was waiting for a meteor to drop from the sky, one that would never come.
He felt… like he was moving.
He wasn't, not literally. Literally, he was sitting dead-still against the wall, the only motion being the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed.
But after a summer spent feeling stagnant, like he was hitting wall after wall, he was finally starting to feel like he was doing something.
Do something.
He had done something, alright.
A soft knock on the door broke Mike out of his thoughts, and he looked up from his knees, trying to school his expression.
"Mike?" Will called softly, "You alive in there?" He asked, slightly humorous despite the audible worry in his tone.
Mike, despite everything, felt his lips twitch up in what was almost a smile.
"Yeah. You can come in." He replied, watching in the mirror as the door opened. Will entered, in a similarly comfortable clothes to what he'd given Mike, socked feet padding onto the tile cautiously.
"Are you okay?" Will questioned, as he noticed Mike on the floor.
Mike didn't know if he had been okay all summer.
"Hard question." He answered, honestly.
Will nodded in understanding, sitting down next to him. Their shoulders brushed, and Mike swallowed rather consciously.
There was a beat of silence.
"Feeling… up to talk about everything?" Will asked, his voice somewhere between hesitant and encouraging.
Mike let out a sigh, "I think I'm bad at talking, but I'll… try." He said. He was moving. He wanted to keep doing that. That was all he knew for sure.
"I'm sorry I ran off in the rain." Will apologized, and Mike looked at him in surprise.
Suddenly, the words were pouring out of him.
"You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who screwed everything up in the first place. If— If I hadn't been so focused on my stupid relationship issues, I might've noticed I was completely ignoring our friendship." He rushed out, reaching out a hand to grab Will's. It felt right.
Will looked at their hands, turning his over to enclasp them, palm to palm. His hand was warm, soft, and Mike felt his breath catch in his throat. Holding hands had never been particularly high on Mike's list of intimacies he enjoyed… until this exact moment.
"Friendship." Will said, repeating the word Mike had used.
"You're my best friend." Mike clarified, then continued, stammering out, "I… don't know the right word for how I feel. Um. About you."
Will looked up at him, meeting his gaze.
"You don't like girls." He said, like a statement more than a question.
Mike bit his lip like it would stop the next confirmation from leaving his mouth.
"I wish I did."
The truth lingered in the space between them, a sense of mutual understanding being shared.
"I like you." Mike continued, after another beat of silence, "And— And it scares me. That's… that's why… that's why." He didn't bother finishing his sentence. He knew that Will knew what he meant.
That was why he had done everything he had done this past summer.
There was no reason to rehash the details.
Will studied him for a moment. Mike wasn't sure what he saw.
"I've had a crush on you for the past six months, Mike." He confessed finally, "Probably longer. That's just when I realized."
"Oh." Mike said, dumbly.
Then, as he counted back, "Oh."
The Snow Ball.
"You encouraged me to go dance with that girl." Will said, evidently on the same train of thought, "But I didn't want to. I wanted to dance with you." He admitted, glancing away nervously.
"And I danced with El." Mike finished, "Because it was safe. Because I was supposed to." He added, giving his own side. A side he hadn't let himself address until now.
"And you wanted me to play it safe too." Will replied, sighing and leaning his head back against the wall.
"I'm sorry." Mike said earnestly, leaning closer, "I'm so sorry, Will. I'm— such an idiot. All summer I've been— avoiding you and avoiding how I feel and— I don't want to do that anymore. When you left earlier…" He trailed off, debating his next words.
Then he sighed, deciding he might as well, "When you left earlier, my first thought was the night you were taken. You biked home alone that night, too. I was frustrated, and we were arguing, but more than anything I was just— terrified of losing you again." He breathed out the last part so he wouldn't cry, squeezing Will's hand for emphasis.
Will stayed silent, taking in his words.
Mike kept going anyway, "I know I've been an asshole to you, and to the others. And I've been so adamant about— about being normal, growing up the way I'm supposed to, getting a girlfriend, all of that— that bullshit. But…" He slowed his speaking, "I can't lose you. Not as a friend, or to a monster, or at all. At all."
There was another brief pause, but this time Will filled it.
"Mike," He said softly, the way he always did, "You're never going to lose me. I've been so scared of losing you, god, I— I had no idea you were afraid of the same thing." He admitted, and from his perspective, Mike couldn't blame him.
"I'm… not the best at showing how I feel, I guess." Mike responded, unsure what else to say. Everything felt out in the open now. Every secret, every lie.
The careful dance Mike had been doing to hide himself and play such a convincing character.
Will knew it all now. He understood it all.
And Mike knew things now, too. That Will liked him back, that he wasn't crazy or wrong or dealing with some problem to be fixed.
He knew what it felt like to kiss a boy.
He knew that he liked it.
He knew he would probably like it more now that he was warm and dry, and not at the whims of an unexpected summer storm out in the middle of the woods.
"Can I kiss you?" Mike asked suddenly, much more shy without adrenaline pumping through him.
Will's eyes snapped up to meet his, eyebrows rising in shock. Mike almost braced for a rejection, but then Will was leaning in, and Mike closed his eyes just as Will's lips pressed lightly against his own.
He was right. Kissing was better when he could actually feel the warmth of Will's lips against his, their noses brushed up against each other, their still-held hands steadying and comforting as the sensation threatened to make him dizzy.
Mike had done this before. Kissed someone. Held their hand.
It had never felt like this.
Mike pressed closer, deepening the kiss slightly. He had never wanted to kiss someone so badly, especially not someone he was already actively kissing.
Will's free hand reached up to cup Mike's face, and Mike gladly let it rest there.
It made sense, he thought. That, if he were going to like a boy, it would be Will.
His best friend since the first day of kindergarten.
The boy he'd learned to play D&D with.
The boy he'd always subtly favoured more than his other friends.
The boy he'd still believed was alive after everyone else had given up hope.
Of course it would be Will.
Finally, Mike had to pull back, sucking in a sharp breath of air as he did. Will was in much a similar state, breathing heavy as his eyes blinked open.
He looked so pretty. Mike wanted to tell him that.
The phone started ringing in the other room, making both of them jump.
"Jesus…" Will muttered, shaking his head, "I'll get it. Might be mom." He supplied, getting to his feet.
Mike followed, not letting their hands separate.
He liked holding Will's hand.
More than he ever thought he would like holding anyone's hand, really.
They left the bathroom, entering the hall where the phone hung on the wall. Will picked it up just as it about to ring out, pulling it to his ear.
"Hello?" He said in greeting. Mike stuck close, listening.
"Hi, Will, is Mike there? It's getting late." Mike's mom's voice came through faintly, and Mike felt a small swirl of anxiety in his stomach. Right. He hadn't told anyone he was leaving when he'd impulsively followed Will into the woods.
"Uh—" Will glanced at Mike, "Yeah, he's here. We— We were actually thinking about having a sleepover, if that's okay?" He asked, clearly thinking on the fly.
Mike felt his heartbeat quicken. Will wanted him to stay longer.
Was this what everyone was talking about when they described feeling butterflies around their crush?
"Absolutely! Just have Mike check in tomorrow morning if you kids are planning to run around all day again, alright?" Mike's mom asked, and Will assured her that he would before hanging the phone back up on the wall.
"Sleepover?" Mike questioned, a shy smile playing at his lips. He felt so much more comfortable around Will now, more than he ever had before. Not that he was ever uncomfortable around Will, but… well, he liked Will. Those feelings made him nervous; had scared him. Now that they were out in the open, and he knew they were mutual, it wasn't so scary. He could crave closeness and it was allowed.
Reciprocated, even.
Will's cheeks turned pink, "I— I didn't want you to have to leave yet." He excused.
"I don't want to leave yet either." Mike seconded, immediately, "I like being with you. Here. Here with you. Um." He stuttered, running a hand down his face.
Will giggled, "I do too." He said, then, after a moment, asked, "Are we?"
"Are we what?" Mike repeated, confused.
Will averted his gaze, "…Together?" He answered tentatively.
Mike felt his face burn.
"Um—" He started, feeling his stomach flip, "I'd— I'd like to be. If you want to. I mean, I know we kind of just started talking about all this, but— it's not like we need a 'get to know you' phase, y'know?" He tried to reason, feeling supremely embarrassing and like he was making no sense at all.
"Yeah." Will replied, smiling, "I'd, um, like that too." He agreed.
Standing there, cheeks pink, hair damp, basked in warm light from the standing lamp in the living room, Mike was once again struck with just how pretty Will was.
"I'm sorry again." Mike said instead, his smile falling, "I shouldn't have said that."
Will shook his head lightly, taking both of Mike's hands in his own, "Stop apologizing. I'm past that, I promise. And— I understand why you said it now." He teased, and Mike tensed.
"Okay." He made a conscious effort to relax, "Okay. Yeah. So— Yeah." He corrected, earning a giggle from Will.
Will let go of his hands, walking back towards his room. Mike followed, more than a little excited to be having a sleepover with Will again. They hadn't had a sleepover in months, not since Mike had started dating El. With how… complicated, Mike's feelings had gotten, he'd been too scared to sleep over at Will's house. In Will's room. His brain had deemed it too risky.
Now, the dam had broken, and the truths were all out in the open, and the results were better than Mike could have ever realistically expected.
Now, he wanted to sleepover at Will's every night for the rest of eternity.
"Do—" Will started, and Mike jumped a little, having gotten lost in his thoughts. Will seemed to notice, offering him a shy smile before continuing, "Do you want me to get the sleeping bag out?" He asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Mike's mouth fell open in an 'o' shape. Will was asking if he wanted to share his bed.
They hadn't done that since they were very little, too little for it to be considered anything more than friendly.
"I— I'll just go get it—" Will stammered, when Mike didn't respond immediately. He moved to walk past Mike out of the room, but Mike grabbed his wrist.
"Wait— um." He scrambled to find his words, "You— You don't have to. Sorry, I'm— bad at talking, remember?" He tried, in an attempt to cut the tension that had bloomed in the span of just a few sentences.
Will nodded, turning to face Mike again, "Got it." He mumbled.
Mike let out a sigh, "This is awkward." He admitted, pushing the undertones directly into the conversation.
Will nodded fervently, "I'm scared I'll do the wrong thing and— scare you off, or something." He replied, and his tone of voice almost made Mike start crying again.
"Never— you could never!" Mike insisted, his hand on Will's wrist sliding down to grab his hand, the gesture becoming more familiar each time he did it, "I'm scared of scaring you off." He confessed.
Will breathed out a laugh, "You're ridiculous." He asserted.
"You're pretty." Mike responded, before he could stop himself. The words had been rattling around in his brain since they'd been out in the woods, and if he didn't get them out right this instant he was pretty sure he would burst into flames.
Will's eyebrows twitched in mild confusion, and his face burned a dusty pink.
"…I am?" He asked, so softly and sincerely that Mike's anxiety dampened right then and there, his need to raise Will's self-esteem stronger than his fear.
"Beautiful." Mike breathed, a smile playing at his lips, "It's, like, hard to look at you sometimes, because I just forget how to breathe and what to say and what I was even thinking, and— and I think it's happening right now, actually." He mumbled the last part, almost at a whisper, the slightest hint of embarrassment making it's way into his tone.
Will was undeniably blushing, speechless as Mike's words hung in the space between them. It wasn't awkward, or heavy, though. It just felt… honest. Sweet. Good.
It was Mike who initiated the kiss, bringing a hang up to cup Will's face, guiding the angle as he leaned down. The brush of Will's lips against his felt like confirmation; comfort. Like coming home and finding out somebody had cleaned your room for you, or waking up and suddenly remembering that it's Saturday, or—
Mike's mind ran out of metaphors when Will sighed against his lips, leaning in so they were chest to chest. If he had been warm before, he now felt hot, not overheated, but certainly above room temperature.
And all he could focus on was Will.
Will pulled back first, his following inhale deep and clearly needed. Mike caught his own breath, his mind drifting back to the original question at hand.
"I don't need the sleeping bag." He muttered. Will looked confused for a second, before realization settled across his features.
"Oh. Okay." He replied, a smile spreading across his face, "My bed's more comfy anyway." He added sheepishly.
Mike shrugged, aiming for flirty, "I guess I'll find out." He said, taking a step back, out of Will's personal space. He walked over to the bed, flopping down on the right side.
Putting his arms behind his head, he shot Will a grin, "Pretty comfy, yeah. Mike-approved." He determined, making Will properly laugh. Still, though, Will didn't move.
"You okay?" Mike asked, suddenly concerned.
Will nodded, stepping towards the door. Mike worried for a moment he was about to leave, but he didn't. He just shut the door, locking it, before turning to look back at the bed. At Mike.
"I just— I don't want my mom or Jonathan to walk in, y'know. While we're asleep." He explained, "Sorry if that's weird." He added, his hands coming together, fidgeting.
Mike shook his head quickly, sitting up and bringing his own hands to rest in his lap, "Not at all. I get it." He assured, and Will met his eyes.
He smiled.
Mike smiled back, beconing for him to come over. Will obliged, anxiously settling into the left side of the bed. It was the exact configuration they'd decided on as kids, back when sharing a bed with any and everyone was completely normal, because kids are clingy and it doesn't mean anything.
Now it feels like it means something.
Mike laid back down, pulling the covers over himself and twisting onto his side so he was facing Will. Will was taking his sweet time getting under the covers, his anxiety visible in every movement.
"I'm not gonna run off." Mike said, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone.
Will exhaled, finally relaxing against the pillows, "I know. I'm just… thinking." He mumbled.
"Thinking about what?" Mike asked, scooting a bit closer. He wasn't sure if that was allowed, but Will didn't tell him to stick to his side of the bed, so he assumed it was okay.
Will pondered for a second, clearly deliberating with himself.
"Just… everything. Summer. You. El. Us." He listed off, each word summarizing about a million thoughts Mike could only assume he was flipping through.
"I need to apologize to El too. The next time I see her." Mike muttered, "Max was right, I was a shitty boyfriend to her all summer…" He sighed, curling in on himself.
Will shuffled closer, a tentative arm reaching out to touch Mike's side. It was light, barely there, but comforting nonetheless.
"'S not really you fault, y'know, that you didn't like her like that…" Will offered, but Mike shook his head, hair brushing against the pillow and getting in his face. He reached a hand up to swat it away.
"I should've broken up with her the second I realized I liked you."
It was Mike's biggest confession thus far.
"When was that?" Will asked, in a whisper.
And he was already about to top it.
"The Snow Ball." He whispered back.
The silence that permeating after his words almost made him regret them.
Almost, because Will's hand was still on his side.
Will was still laying across from him.
Will was speaking.
"So we're idiots who could have started dating six months ago if we were better at communicating?" He asked, and Mike, taken by surprise, burst out laughing.
"I— yeah." He answered, "I got there eventually."
Will's hand on his side gripped slightly tighter, just enough to pull him closer. Mike happily obliged, wanting to live in Will's personal space if only he would let him. They were so close, maybe a few inches between their faces.
Mike reached an arm out, slinging it around Will and pulling him in the rest of the way, until they were chest to chest again, and Will buried his face in the crook of Mike's neck and shoulder, and Mike was pretty sure the catch in his breath was audible.
"Max'll be happy to hear she was right about something, at least." Will teased, his voice muffled.
Mike giggled, nudging the top of Will's head with his nose, "If you tell her I said that, I'll kill you." He threatened.
Will yawned, "That would make you a pretty shitty boyfriend." He shot back lazily, before tensing suddenly, like he'd said something he hadn't meant to.
Boyfriend.
"Guess you're right." Mike played along, "Can't be a very good boyfriend to you if you're dead." He said, his voice wavering a little on the words. He wanted to ease Will's worries, but his own were still poking out.
Thankfully, his tactics worked, because Will relaxed again, and Mike let his eyes shut, holding him as closely as he could.