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Mike kissed Will for the first time two months ago. They were alone in his room, two hours past the time Will was supposed to go home. The whole house was quiet, so they had to whisper. They were in the middle of a heated discussion about the movie they went out to see that day, Will was explaining why his interpretation of the ending made much more sense. His arms were moving with rapid speed to match his speech. Mike had to shush him at times, because he was getting too excited. Neither of them wanted to stop paying attention to each other, so the light in the room slowly dimmed, until Mike had to use more imagination than eyesight to make out Will’s features.
The moon peaked out from the stormy clouds and shined directly through his window. Will’s skin looked blue in that light, like he was a part of the nightsky, a piece of Mike’s dream manifested into reality. Suddenly, there was a lull in the conversation, they sat in silence while looking at each other. And Mike dared to think Will wouldn’t be sitting on his bed this late in the night, wearing clothes he borrowed from him to sleep in, saying in a soft whisper, “Fine, you win…”, if he didn’t want to kiss him.
Despite the initiative he was about to take, he was shaking. Mike slowly took hold of Will’s hand, gripping it tightly so as not to let him feel the tremor. Then, he leaned in, slowly and deliberately, giving Will one last chance to reject him. He didn’t.
It escalated quickly from there.
The next day, they were hanging out in the group with Dustin and Lucas. They were in Dustin’s room. Will was sitting on the floor in front of the bed, where Mike was sprawled on top of. He watched the back of his head the whole time, waiting for him to turn around.
They’ve drunk so much soda, Mike had to go pee twice in half an hour. He just got back, jumped on the bed, when Will stood up, excusing himself. Mike watched Lucas’s mouth move for a minute, not hearing one word, before he stood up as well.
He heard the toilet flush as he walked up the door. Mike knocked, barely tapping the wood with his knuckles. He heard the tap turn on, waited for a bit, then Will opened the door. “Oh. Go ahead.” He took a step sideways to walk out the bathroom, but Mike pushed him inside.
He locked the door after them, and met his eyes. Will’s face quickly turned red, rapidly gaining color the longer they stared at each other. Because of his expression, Mike forgot what he was going to say. He swallowed.
“Um.” Will crossed his arms and glanced at the door, over Mike’s shoulder. That sprung him into action, he was still riding on the high of the other night. Then, he had taken a giant step to cross an impossible line, but in that moment, in the bathroom, he knew what Will wanted, that it matched his needs.
“Why are you avoiding me?” Mike asked, trying to keep his voice natural.
“I’m not. We were in the same room the whole day.” Will immediately replied, almost like he had an answer prepared.
Mike narrowed his eyes, “But you don’t look at me.”
Will’s blush intensified. His ears were so red, they looked hot to touch. “What?”
In the bathroom, the only sound was the water humming in the pipes. He couldn’t hear Dustin’s obnoxiously loud voice in there. So that must have meant, they couldn’t hear them either.
Mike reached out and cupped the side of Will’s face. Felt just how hot his skin is. “Can I kiss you?”
Will’s eyes widened, eyebrows shot up, two cute crinkles appeared on his forehead. He looked like Mike just asked him the world’s most absurd question, like they didn’t kiss the other day. For that moment, as he took in his surprise, his insides squeezed painfully, heart clenching in his chest. But then Will simply nodded his head. Before Mike could think it through, or Will would see his relief, he leaned in. His other hand found its place on Will’s waist, as he led him a step backwards towards the sink.
Will gripped the ceramic basin with both hands, head turning in Mike’s hand. Mike pushed on his jaw, until he could lick into his mouth and taste the orange soda he’d been drinking.
Later that evening, when Mike made Will laugh, he turned around to share his smile, hazel eyes crinkled in amusement. His throat felt dry.
It snowballed from there. They started to sneak out during hangs out on a regular basis, with enough consistency, they developed a look that made the other aware of the intention. Will would leave the table in the basement, saying he’s going to get some water and his eyes would meet Mike. Briefly, just skipping past him on his way out. Mike would then say something meaningless and nonsensical and follow him up the stairs. They came back to their friends separately. That was one of the unspoken rules.
When Will used to come over alone, they had watched movies, read comics together, sometimes they would just talk. Now, they don’t waste time doing anything else. In the first week, they had pretext, talking about their days, making plans of doing something, before Mike would cave in and ask Will to sit next to him on the bed. Now, Will walks into his room and Mike stops whatever he’s doing, drags him over and kisses him until he can be satisfied, until his jaw is sore.
It’s becoming a bit of a distraction. Not only when he’s in the vicinity of Will, but even when he’s just sitting by himself, eating breakfast, biking to school, falling asleep, dreaming. There is seemingly only one cure available.
He’s doing his homework, when he notices that instead of an actual sensible word he was going to write he wrote Will’s name. He looks at it for a moment, before pressing his forehead into the notebook.
After he’s done, as a reward, he gets on his bike and goes to Will’s. Biking with blush prematurely set high on his cheeks.
Mike drops the bike unceremoniously on his lawn and politely knocks on the door, seeing as he came uninvited. A wind picks up and ventures into the crevice of his hoodie. He’s underdressed for this weather, and feels a tremor pass throughout his body. He knocks again, louder this time. One unhappy Jonathan opens up the door, stares at him in silence, lifting up a brow in lieu of a greeting.
“Hi”, Mike smiles, too focused on his mission to bother with any annoyance. “Is Will home?”
Jonathan continues staring, before he sighs, and opens the door wider to let him in. He’s watching him like a hawk as Mike slides in, kicks his shoes off, and fixes his sock, which managed to slip from his heel on the way to Will’s room.
He doesn’t knock, lets himself in, knowing he’s invited.
Will is sitting by his desk, his elbow perched at the edge, palm supporting his head. He’s turned sideways, away from the door. His other hand is scribbling widely, moving from side to side. He’s wearing headphones, so he doesn’t notice Mike coming in. Naturally, Mike slowly closes the door and creeps closer.
He looks over his shoulder to first see what he’s working on. The face staring at him from the page is very familiar. Partially incomplete, but still recognizable. The lines are so gentle, like he’s made out of shadows, his eyes are turned to a side, lips set in a straight line. The music from Will’s headphones hums around them. Mike wishes he could stand here until he’s finished. He feels warm, his heart bursting in his chest.
Mike leans in and kisses Will’s cheek, feels the headphone press into his ear and momentarily the lyrics of the song become clear and distinguishable. Will jerks away, his head whips to the side, his arms go up and yank at the cord attaching his headphones to the walkman on his desk, in result they fall from his ears and rattle on the ground. Mike's shoulders go up at the sudden loud noise, eyes widen.
Will looks at him, then at his drawing, he smacks the pages close. His face aflame. “What are you doing here?” He feigns casual, and reaches down to grab his headphones.
He’s wearing a striped shirt, it’s a size too big for him, it must be a hand-me-down from his brother. A long sleeve t-shirt is peaking from underneath. His hair is tangled from where he must have been absentmindedly tugging at it, while drawing.
Mike presses his palm onto the surface of his desk and leans in again. Kisses his mouth. Once, twice. Pulling back to look him in the eyes. Then, kisses him again, his other hand moving to his cheek. It’s like electricity, the way his lips tingle, nerves hyperactive not just in places their skin connects. It spreads throughout his body, and it takes a moment before he’s fully charged. First he has to slide his lips over Will’s top lip, brush their noses together as he turns his head, and feel wetness on his cupid’s bow.
He pulls away again, only partially satisfied, but tired of leaning in, while standing up.
Mike takes off his hoodie, too warm now. He’s wearing a thin t-shirt underneath, but he jumps onto Will’s bed, planning to get even warmer. Will fully turns towards him. The back of his chair banging against his desk. His blush is glowing. Mike doesn’t waste time and pats the space next to him, moves up until his back touches the headboard. “Come here.”
Will does. Slowly standing up and wiping his face before sitting down on the edge as if he's scared of Mike. It makes him laugh, so he reaches out and tugs at his arm and shirt. Will falls onto his side, smiling. He ends up laying on his back, with feet on the floor. Mike rotates himself to accommodate this, turning his head to the side while looking down at Will, thinking of a best way to kiss him, when Will says, “I told Jonathan about us.”
Mike stops.
He straightens. Looking at the door to Will’s room. Then at the picture of a tiger on his wall. “Um.”
The thing is, as perfect, exciting those two months have been, they never addressed the change to their friendship. Mike knows, of course, that friends do not kiss each other, and that what they have been doing is crossing all the boundaries, is something you do not come back from. But he thought, to himself, that it doesn’t change anything if they don’t speak it.
If they leave it unaddressed, it can remain in this beautiful static state, where it’s neither here nor there, and they can have it as much as reject it.
Two months ago, he kissed Will without a plan. He didn’t wake up that day knowing he would do it, he feels like he didn’t know what he would do, even as he was leaning it to be closer to him. It’s different now, because he knows it too well, it’s on purpose every time.
Since, then, they’ve never, not even in vague terms, discussed anything they’ve been doing. They acted exactly the same as before, talked about the same things, except now when they were alone they kissed. It's a monumental change and at the same time, it feels like nothing changed at all. Mike’s entire thinking has shifted, and somehow he’s exactly the same.
It wasn’t because he forgot to address it, or doesn’t know what to call it. It’s because as soon as they put a name to it, it becomes something real. Something with consequences and an array of hurt, it can cause them. As long as it’s easy, they can kiss in the bathroom at Dustin’s and not question why they do it. Mike can ask Will to press his cold hands against Mike’s face to cool it down, before they leave, and it can mean nothing.
So, maybe not talking about it, was a wrong move on Mike’s part. Maybe, he should have said exactly that at the beginning to avoid this. Because he’s not sure what to say now. More than that, he’s clueless. His heart is racing. Looking at Will now feels not allowed. Mike is trying to come up with words, as the pressure builds up in his throat, the bubble threatening to burst, when Will sits up.
“Mike…?”
He rakes his fingers though his hair, wanting, more than anything, to leave. He continues to look past Will. “Yeah, yeah. I mean-. Told him about what?’
Will breathes quickly in. Doesn’t let it out. Their eyes meet, when Mike accidently glances over. His hazel eyes are wide, brows bend upwards, creasing the skin between them. The silence falls upon them once again. He’s expecting Mike to elaborate.
It’s too scary to say anything, because he knows what he wants to say, what to establish between them, but he knows it will hurt Will. He’s stuck between saying anything and pretending not to understand. The latter is being actively dismissed by Will’s disbelieving gaze drilling into him. Mike looks down, at his lap. Suddenly feels very out of place on Will’s bed. He realized he just tossed his hoodie on the floor. Gotten way too comfortable in his space, already, doing whatever they’ve been doing.
He shouldn’t have come over. Maybe they could skip this conversation entirely then. He thinks back to seeing Jonathan and realizes why he looked so annoyed. He knows.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Will’s voice is quiet.
The answer is long overdue, but it croaks painfully out of Mike’s throat all the same, “What did you say?”
Will stands up, making Mike look up to follow his movement. He’s breathing heavily, not meeting his eyes. “Are you serious right now?”
“Ye-yes. I mean. What do you mean ‘about us’?” He keeps his tone soft, quiet. As if he’s genuinely inquisitive. He feels his heartbeat in his ears.
Will looks at him, his eyes creased, front teeth exposed in a grimace. His chest is rapidly moving up and down, the material of his shirt expands as he inhales. “Well, I don’t fucking know, Mike. You tell me, I guess. Did the past two months happen, or am I making something up?”
The collar of his t-shirt feels oppressive, he wishes he kept his hoodie on, he wishes for a lot of different things. “Of course it happened. I just-” Mike swallows, looking anywhere, but at Will, “I didn’t know there were ‘us’, that’s all.”
“So, what is there?” Will asks, but his tone is flat, his words carry prevalent spite, he rarely offers to Mike. “Because to me it sounds like you can walk into my room- uninvited, and kiss me-” his voice drops when he says the last part, they never addressed it before, so in spite of their argument, Will himself must have a hard time saying it, “but I can’t say we’re together!”
“Together?” Mike asks right away, eyes wide. Their gazes meet, and that was the last thing he should have said.
Light catches inside Will’s eyes, as they sparkle with heavy unshed tears. He crinkles his nose, bottom lip quivers. “Yeah, Mike. Together.”
Mike stands up too. He wants to hold him close, pet his hair until he stops making that face, kiss it, until he pushes him away with a warm smile, instead of this. He looks pretty when he cries, even as he tries to push his features into submission and bends his lips into a frown.
“Will, we- you know, we’ve never talked about this. I mean- I don’t want to make you upset. But- But I am your friend. You know, I’ve been with Eleven, and- and I’m not gay.” Mike blurs out, crazed. It sounds heavy, like even rejecting it, is a confession. It comes out jumbled, like barely a word, more of a sound. A breathed out syllable that is left to be deconstructed by the two of them.
It’s an eternity of looking into Will’s eyes. He lets the words ring like tuneless bells around them, almost as a punishment for Mike. Letting him truly think about them, consider what he just said in silence. He knows it’s a defense, and he feels like an idiot defending himself in front of Will. But are they to start parading around as a couple? Holding hands and sharing ice creams or whatever? The two of them? It doesn’t make sense, and surely Will must understand.
Then, Will nods.
He sniffs, wipes his face and reaches down to grab Mike’s hoodie off the floor. He throws it towards him without looking and goes over to the door. Without any further comments, he cracks it open, exposing their tender private argument to the open air of the hallway.
Mike stands there, uselessly holding onto his hoodie. When after a minute he still doesn’t move, Will huffs and gestures towards the hallway. “You can leave, now.”
“Wha- Will-! Don’t be like this.” Mike walks up closer, borderline whispering the words. “We can still talk it out. Listen, I am sorry, okay? I should have told you at the start-”
“Leave, Mike. I’m serious. I don’t want to talk.” Will is looking down, hand gripping the handle.
Mike scrambles for words, “If you're embarrassed, don’t be. Like it’s totally my fault-”
“Please.” Will looks up, eyes red rimmed, “Please, just leave.”
So, Mike leaves. Step after step, until he’s outside Will’s room, then his house.
He stands there on the front porch, still holding his own hoodie.
He’s walking forward, forgetting his bike and trying not to think about anything. Focusing only on taking the next step.
Mike does a bad job of not thinking about it, and convinces himself Will was just upset about the misjudgment in regard to where they stood with it. This, of course, implies Will wants to be with him, romantically, but Mike abandons that part of the realization in lieu of going over how to apologize for that miscommunication.
He already tried to apologize yesterday and Will literally kicked him out, but he can’t blame him. It’s Mike's fault he let it go this far, without clearing it up. So, now that they’re in the know about what this actually is, they technically can go back to it. And if Will actually wants to be with him, why would he say no?
With that, Mike bikes to school with newfound determination. They can meet in the bathroom during class, Mike will apologize for being a jerk, they will agree to stay friends and then they can kiss until they have to go back. It’s a perfect plan. His bike is still in front of Will’s home, so he borrowed Nancy's old bike. It’s bright blue colored with pink stripes, so he stops a good distance away from the building.
He sees Lucas near the entrance, when he finally arrives, in spite of the journey -on time.
“What’s up?” He walks up, adjusts the straps of his backpack, that dig painfully into his shoulders. Lucas yawns and shrugs his shoulders.
“Not much.” They begin walking together, squeezing past a group of students to walk into the building. They make their way towards the lockers. “Dustin has borrowed The Great Escape. Remember? The Dick?”
Mike hums. Normally Will would be waiting in front of the school or by his locker. He’s nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’s sick.
“O-kay. Well, anyway, do you want to come over and watch it?”
Mike turns to look at Lucas, nods, then thinks about what he said. “Is Will coming?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Lucas frowns. Then notices something past Mike’s shoulder, “Anyway, see you later.” He clamps his shoulder and he’s off.
Mike sees Will for the first time during lunch, he’s with Dustin, walking into the cafeteria. When their eyes meet, he says something to Dustin and turns around, leaving though the still opened door.
As soon as Dustin is within hearing distance, Mike asks, “Where did Will go?”
Dustin turns around, as if he didn’t even notice, he’s left, “No idea.”
His classes end. Mike stands by his locker, the door opened in front of him. He’s only looking inside, stalling for time. Will was avoiding him the whole day. So much so, he didn’t even eat lunch with them. This has never happened before. Ever.
He wants to find him and apologize, but he knows those words are useless, he knows what Will actually wants to hear. Despite, that they are both guys. Even if Mike’s parents will never accept it, even if they have to hide it from everyone. He doesn't understand why Will wants it so much, why complicate something so easy and simple. A secret just between them, only for them to share it, to enjoy it.
Eventually, when the hallways become empty and it’s clear Will won’t show up anytime soon, Mike slams the metal door shut and goes home.
He is practically buzzing as he waits for the clock to declare six pm so he can go to Dustin’s. He tries doing his homework, then reading a book, but his thoughts circulate around the argument from yesterday. From Jonathan reluctantly letting him in, knowing everything, why he came there. To Will, asking him to leave with tears in eyes. Absurdly, he thinks about his words, “I told Jonathan about us.” About the word “us”, like there can be just them, together, with a future and commitment.
How red his face was, how vulnerable he was. Laying in his own bed. After he’s just drawn Mike in his sketchbook. His soft mahogany hair splayed on his bed sheets as he looked up at Mike and waited for him to say something, to confirm that they were together, that despite everything, Mike wasn’t scared to be with him.
Mike ends up sitting on the edge of his bed looking at the clock hanging up on the wall. Waiting like a dog, until he can leave.
It feels like forever, but the time finally comes. He pulls up his hood, seeing as it’s raining outside, and dismisses his mom’s concern about biking in this weather. When he finally gets on the bike, the blue and pink one, his mind calms down. There is a moment, where he can just listen to the hum of rain, feel its cold drops splatter on his face. Washing away the hesitation in his gut. Making him pedal harder.
He can see Will’s bike on the front lawn, so before knocking at the door, he has to stop for a moment, catch his breath. It’s stupid, but he misses him. They were always close, up until recently Will was living in his house, so they’ve spent every moment together. Two months ago they got even closer, crossing all lines, pressing their faces together and tasting each other’s spit. Mike came over after school and when he didn't, Will would call him asking if he wanted to hang out. When they were hanging out with their other friends, Mike would find himself counting down minutes until they would be alone again, so he could kiss him, pull him closer and warm up his cold hands in his own.
Mike knocks, until his knuckles sting. Right away he hears loud stomping, before Dustin opens up the door. “Damn, you look rough.” He says as a greeting.
His wet fringe hangs like a curtain in front of his eyes. He also didn’t sleep at night, instead he spent the whole time staring at the ceiling, cold in spite of covering himself with two blankets.“Thanks, dude.”
“Wait, did something happen? You seemed fine earlier.” Dustin frowns. He looks genuinely confused. Mike wasn’t sure if Will had told them, but now he decides he didn’t. It must have been just Jonathan who knows.
He sighs, “Will and I had a fight.”
“What? When? Will didn’t say anything.” Dustin’s brows shoot up, “What about?”
Mike pulls his shoes off and fixes his socks, before going up the stairs, knowing Dustin will follow. “Stuff.”
“Ah, stuff. So enlightening.”
He doesn’t grace him with a response, because he reaches his room and walks inside.
Will is sitting on the floor, sorting through Dustin’s collection of cassettes, he doesn’t look up at first, only when Lucas greets him, does he realize.
When he does, it’s quick, non-committal. As if he’s set on ignoring him forever. It stings. But he knows it’s deserved. Seeing him, sitting crossed legged, wearing a wool sweater and brown pants, makes Mike want to attach himself around his body like a koala. Kiss his neck and keep his mouth pressed there until he memorizes the frequency of his pulse.
Mike wants to sit next to him, but doesn’t. Instead he sits at the edge of the bed. Dustin joins the rest on the floor, they start discussing what movie to watch, the earlier decision forgotten in lieu of watching the same ones they all know by heart. Mike has a hard time following the conversation, he focuses on every word Will says. His low voice. Obscured by Lucas’ loud laughter. He won’t look at him.
“Whacha think, Mike?”
He forcefully rips his eyes off Will and looks at Dustin and Lucas, who measure him with unimpressed stares. His eyes skip between them and he cannot recall what was said before. He shrugs, blushes, a bit embarrassed.
Dustin smacks his own face, “You didn’t hear a thing, have you?”
“We have this conversation every week, Dustin. No, I don’t care what you guys pick, I am okay with anything.” Mike hazards a guess, rolls his eyes.
Lucas claps Dustin's shoulder, “Don’t mind him. He pissed off Will and now is playing the victim.”
“I’m not pissed off.” Says Will, pretending to be engrossed with reading the back of one of the cassettes.
“Yeah, you’re just not speaking or even looking at Mike, because you’re so happy with him.” Dustin quips.
Will shrugs and with that they switch the topic, going back to what they are watching. Will seems more at ease now that they addressed the elephant in the room. He speaks up more, careful not to look anywhere near Mike still. Lucas takes a cassette from his lap, stretching his hand, checking the back and the front, before setting it back on Will’s thigh.
They finally settle on three finalists, spread them out on the carpet, in a column. Will leans his back against the drawer, looking at the floor with a straightforward focus.
Mike feels how sweaty his hands are. His insides are filled with cotton, it’s stuffing his throat, until he’s unable to say anything. He clenched and uncleched his fists. Tries to swallow down the impossible weight.
“Will.” It comes out small, croaky, but it’s a start. It puts him in a spot, where he has to continue, has to be brave.
They stop talking and all three look up. Mike realizes he really hasn’t spoken up much since coming here. Truthfully, he always has to say his piece, when they pick movies to watch. Will is looking at him, finally. His expression is guarded, his eyebrows are already tensed up tight in a frown, lips pressed together. Mike has to be brave.
“I forgot to say it yesterday, but I really liked your drawing.”
Lucas and Dustin turn to look at Will, as if this was a tennis match. Will, who in spite of the non-chalant, dismissive, act he’s putting on, blushes. He looks away from Mike, back to staring intensely at the cassettes. He nods as acknowledgment.
“You really captured my hair, all crazy- and stuff.” Mike says, rather awkwardly. He doesn’t really know what makes art good, but he’s sure that Will does, and uses it.
“You drew Mike? That’s not fair, I’ve been asking you for a portrait for like years, and you’ve told me to pay up first.” Lucas whines, shaking Will’s shoulder. Dustin takes a sip from the open bottle of water by his side, unbothered.
Will brushes him off, fixes the collar of his sweater. His gaze drifts around the room, avoiding Mike completely. “Yeah, well-”
“Will won’t draw you. He only- He only draws me.” Mike takes a deep breath, eyes not leaving Will. “Because I’m his boyfriend.”
Dustin gulps and starts coughing. Lucas makes a quizzical sound, looking from Mike to Will with quirked brows as if to catch the hidden joke.
Will meets his eyes. Surprise blooming on his features, like flowers in spring. He’s frozen in place, mouth agape.
“Are you joking? Is he joking, Will?” Lucas asks.
Mike smiles. He expected to feel more nervous now, that the aftermath would be the hard part, staying in the world after he admitted to being in a relationship with Will. But it seems he was wrong, again. Because Will looks like he couldn’t care less about the consequences, his eyes shine, reflecting light like priceless gems, the blush on his cheeks looks warm and soft to touch. Mike knows exactly how it feels under his fingertips, knows how it tastes under his lips. He wants to pull him close now, kiss him silly in front of their friends.
But he stays in place.
Dustin eventually stops couching, his voice strained and weak, when he says, “Congrats on putting your shit together, guys.”
Will laughs, it sounds like bells, he looks down, but Mike can still see his grin.
“I mean, yeah, it’s not that surprising, but I can’t believe I didn’t notice anything. You guys were that weird about each other that I didn’t-”
“Wait!” Dustin interrupts Lucas’s rant, arms spread out, “Wait, wait, wait! So, all those times, when we were hanging out and you guys kept going to the bathroom together, you were in a relationship?”
Mike blushes in spite of his good senses, he doesn’t task Will with answering this, instead he huffs and says, “Nonya business.”
Dustin erupts into a, in Mike’s opinion, unnecessary rant, about boundaries and such. They tease them about this, until they seemingly run out of times to point out, when they disappeared together and made out in Dustin’s bathroom. Lucas purses his lips and nods, like something clicked in place in his head. They go back to discussing movies, like nothing has changed.
And truthfully, nothing did. They are still the same people, spending time together, watching movies they saw fifty times over, poking fun at everything, stuffing their faces with chips and making spaces for themselves by pushing out their elbows into each other's sides.
Dustin’s room still smells like unwashed socks and artificial lavender. He still hugs him tightly when saying goodbye, Lucas still turns around on his bike to wave to them as he disappears down the street.
They did not change. But one thing did.
Will stops by the front door to his house. Mike has biked with him all the way over here, as to escort him, knowing damn well his less than pure motives. But he does not ask, not for the lack of impudence, but because the words are stuck in his throat. He’s more nervous than before, than he ever was around Will. He can only point to this new label existing between them. He doesn’t really know where they stand. They haven't spoken since Will agreed for Mike to accompany him home.
They stand in silence, looking at each other. He’s within kissing distance, and it’s been so long since they did it. Like twenty hours. His gaze drifts down.
“Why did you tell them?” Will asks.
Mike doesn’t have an answer that will satisfy Will, he didn’t have a revelation, or stopped being scared of what happens next. But, it’s not about him. Will decided that’s what he wants, he wants the whole world to know how he feels, that they are, in fact, together. Then, fine. Mike will tell everyone and learn to bear it. If it means staying this close forever, it’s more than fine. So instead he asks, “Why did you tell Jonathan?”
Will blushes, seems to think about it, before he takes a step closer, embraces Mike’s face in both hands and pulls him down. Kisses him on his lips, softly, slowly. Mike feels himself melt, feels as his lungs can finally breathe in fresh air. The kiss tastes impossibly sweet, like a fall breeze scented by North Atlantic winds, or a strain in his throat from laughter.
He wishes he could be normal, and not need this. He wants to confine all this to Will, to make him understand, selfishly ask him to heal that part of him as well. Maybe, he’s already doing it, without asking. Will can sometimes read his mind like that.
“I love you.” He says. And Mike says it back, right into his lips. Because he does, and because it doesn't change anything.