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“You’re just looking for things to get mad about.”
Will’s mouth falls open at Max’s snicker. He pulls the phone away from his ear to look at it with widened eyes. Through the static, her voice sounds more amused than anything. But Will is still utterly offended at the accusation. At the betrayal.
“I’m not,” Will answers, pressing the phone back to his ear.
His friend on the other line huffs, “Then why are you calling me instead of answering your boyfriend’s calls?”
Will opens his mouth. The words are unable to come out. The obvious answer being that he wants to keep the line busy so Mike can’t reach him.
Max seems to hear his thoughts and she laughs—Will can’t tell if it’s at him or, somewhat, with him, “You don’t even know what you’re mad at him for.”
“I’m not—I’m not mad,” Will is quick to say. Max’s silence tells him that she is not believing him,“I’m just, like, annoyed.”
“Why?” The redhead asks, once again.
Will closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath. He tries to get the words out, to explain himself. But all he sees when he tries to think is Mike. Mike and his big brown eyes that look at Will with unleashed love and admiration.
Mike and his big brown eyes that get all wide and teary when Will is slightly annoyed at his boyfriend.
Mike and his big brown sad eyes and his eyebrows that shrink, the sad puppy eyes looking right into Will’s as Mike begs for forgiveness.
The brunette tells himself might have a serious issue when he catches himself grinning.
He groans, “I don’t know, Max.”
“You do, Will,” she answers immediately. “I get it honestly—I love seeing what Lucas is willing to do for me.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” Will counters immediately.
At the same time as Max groans behind the phone, there is a knock at the cabin’s door. Will’s heart jumps in his chest out of both surprise and apprehension—knowing who is most likely to come all the way here today.
“Oh my god,” Will whispers, ignoring Max’s teasing scolding as he turns his head to the door.
With his parents away on yet another date and his brother back in New York, Will is left alone with the heavy task of opening the door.
Max’s voice is just a background noise at this point, “What? Is he here?”
The knocking amplifies and multiplies, Mike’s voice transcending the wood, “Will? Are you here?”
“Oh my god,” Max repeats Will’s own words to him, reading his struck silence all too well. “He is here, isn’t he?”
Will doesn’t even know why he is surprised about any of this. Usually, he gets upset at Mike when they are in the same room, leaving plenty of time and place for Mike to start apologizing right then and there. He’d think getting upset at Mike from a distance would make Mike wait until their next date to apologize—but it doesn’t.
He needs to remind himself that Mike once biked in the pouring rain to apologize to him.
He’s still taken aback. Unaware of what he could possibly tell Mike that he is annoyed about as he hardly has an idea himself.
“Will, please, let me talk to you,” his boyfriend says through the door, giving up on the knocking like he can sense Will’s presence in there.
“What are you even going to tell him?” Max huffs through the phone.
Will bites back with barely any strength, “Which side are you on?”
“Yours, always,” his friend’s answer is immediate. “Make him beg.”
Will can’t control the smile that spreads across his mouth. He hangs up on Max and takes a deep breath before walking to the door.
Mike has started to knock again when he opens the door and he has already started to weaponize the sad brown eyes. It knocks the breath out of Will for a second.
“What are you doing here?” He intends to sound annoyed but the look on Mike’s face makes his voice waver, sounding more defeated than anything else.
It’s like he can hear the kicked puppy sounds emanating from Mike.
Mike takes his sweet time to look at Will. His gaze drags from head to toe, then toes to head, then head to toe, again. Will grows flustered under the weight of his gaze and he is about to repeat his question again when Mike speaks:
“Are you wearing my shirt?”
Will tilts his head down, taking a look at the blue striped shirt he has on. It’s a little loose on him, confirming that he doesn’t own it. He recalls how Mike threw it on his room’s floor the night for their graduation. Fuck.
This morning, he just put on the first thing he saw in his closet: still being well aware that Mike’s scent was all over it. He didn’t even know he would end up in this situation.
He presses his eyes shut before looking at Mike again. His grin is barely there but it makes Will weak in the knees.
He brushes it off and dodges the question by turning out. He purposely leaves the door open.
Mike follows after him without any hesitation, pushing the door shut, “Wait, baby, I’m sorry.”
His apology is carefully ignored. Will walks in his room with butterflies in his stomach already.
Mike’s hands grasp onto Will’s forearms, he turns around him with a sweet ease, forcing his boyfriend to stop walking and look at him. Mike lowers himself to be at Will’s eye level, even a little lower—for the sake of looking up into his hazel eyes.
Will’s chest heaves when he watches Mike’s eyebrows shrink.
Mike speaks, voice soft in the way it always is when speaking to his boyfriend, “Can you talk to me, please?”
“There is—nothing to talk about, Mike,” Will answers, trying and failing to make Mike let go of him.
Mike’s grip tightens, “You’re mad at me.”
His brown eyes seem to grow bigger, more sad every time Will blinks. He wants to kiss Mike’s pout really, really badly.
“I’m not,” Will fights with a smile, it makes his lips tremble a little, “mad.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Mike shakes him softly. Will barely moves at it, “please.”
Will frowns, tones growing softer despite himself by looking at Mike's puppy expression,“Mike, I’m not lying.”
There is a silence that settles between the two of them. Mike looks at him, studies him, sees him. As the victim of his insisting stare, Will feels like he is being peeled wall by wall like a ripe banana.
Mike’s face softens, against all odds. It makes Will’s tummy ache: from the butterflies, from the love. He wonders how Mike can always be so soft when Will is giving him an attitude.
He pulls Will closer.
“But you’re upset,” Mike straightens, and from above his puppy eyes are somehow more deadly. “A little annoyed.”
Will wants to but he doesn’t tilt his head back to have a full look at Mike’s face, he doesn’t even look at him to begin with. An act of rebellion.
Mike’s hands come to cradle Will’s face like he is the most precious thing in the world.
“Look at me, baby,” Mike whispers. Will makes sure to keep his eyes fixated on the wall to his bed. The dark haired man adds, “Come on.”
Will lifts his eyes from the posters on his wall. He misses Bowie and The Cure during the split second his eyes take the road to Mike’s face. When they arrive at their destination, his heart trembles in his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he starts. Eyes still wide and sad. “Don’t be mad at me anymore, I can’t stand it.”
Maybe Will should feel bad for making his boyfriend go through such an emotional turmoil. But when Mike looks at him like this and uses this voice, he can’t hold himself back from enjoying all it. The concept of guilt be damned.
He has the audacity to push it too.
He huffs, “You don’t even know what you are apologizing for.”
Mike, for a second, looks happy Will is speaking to him at all again. Like he didn’t one minute ago.
“But I know that I’m an annoying asshole,” Will’s hair is longer now, so Mike can tuck his hair behind his ears as he talks. “And you’re an angel who does no wrong.”
Will’s mouth, despite how hard he tries to fight it, twitches. Mike catches it immediately, and he smiles—it goes well with the sad puppy dog thing he keeps on doing.
Then Mike’s hands slide down. Will’s neck, his shoulders, his elbows, Mike’s hands pass by to reach his own.
“I know that I can be annoying sometimes,” Will gives him a look, “most of the time,” Mike corrects himself. He brings Will’s hand to his lips, his breath fans on the brunette’s skin, “And if my perfect boyfriend is annoyed at me then I, surely, have fucked up in a way.”
He kisses the back of Will’s hand. Warmth exudes in Mike’s gesture. It flows through Will’s veins, takes over his body until his cheeks are red.
“Forgive me for being an idiot, baby,” He kisses Will’s palm this time. He kisses his wrist too, “I’m sorry, don’t be mad at me.”
Mike’s lips keep traveling on Will’s arm. He kisses it all the way to the back of Will’s elbows. Mike’s pecks are tender and lingering, leaving the ghost of his mouth every time he moves to the next bit of skin to mark. He brings Will closer at every peck. His gaze doesn’t waver, straight into Will’s.
It drives Will insane.
“Mike,” no other word makes Will’s mouth as tender.
The taller man’s kisses even transcends the barrier of clothes when they reach Will’s shoulders. Mike is still going on with his amends, words vibrating against Will’s skin as he kisses his neck.
“I’m sorry,” he kisses Will’s jaw. “I’m sorry,” he kisses Will’s cheek. “Please don’t be annoyed anymore,” he kisses the corner of Will’s mouth and he can feel it curve into a smile.
Mike easily gives him what he wants, even if Will himself doesn’t know what he wants or truly understands why he wants it. It’s sweet. He dodges Mike’s mouth on his, still.
“I’m going to die,” Mike mutters and Will snorts, “You can’t smile at me and not let me kiss you, it’ll kill me.”
He puts his hand to his heart under Will’s incredulous eyes. Mike grips onto shirt like he is having a heart attack, expression looking like his heart is aching.
“What the hell are you doing?” the shorter man wonders out loud.
The other grimaces, lowers himself more and more, “If you won’t forgive me then I shall die,” then he falls flat on the floor.
It’s like at the end of Mike’s campaigns. The antagonist falls dead on the floor after hours of The Party fighting against it.
Max says that Mike acting out so hard is embarrassing for him and every other human ever created. But Will finds it funny every time, cute even. He might be biased though.
“Get off the floor, Mike,” he giggles.
He can see Mike’s imaginary tall wiggle at the sound of it. “Only a true love kiss can save me.”
“Are you serious?” Will huffs. Smiling so hard his entire face hurts.
He has stopped fighting it at this point.
“Dead serious,” he seems quite proud of his joke even if he looks like an idiot with his back flat on the floor. As he should, it makes Will laugh.
Will yelps when Mike suddenly sits up and reaches for his wrist. Soon, he’s above Mike, his hands planted on the floor on each side of Mike’s body to steady himself.
“You’re dumb,” Will says.
Mike’s hands hold his waist, “I’m whatever you want me to be.”
It’s messy and sweet. Just the way Mike likes it. His tongue is already in Will’s mouth as soon as this kiss starts. He is always ready to explore and devour—kissing like he is discovering Will’s mouth for the first time. Mike kisses him like he needs to mark Will’s throat as his, all the time.
Will places his hand at the back of his boyfriend’s neck. He lets himself be devoured. He wants Mike to consume him whole—or be the one to consume him. He wants to swallow him and have him melt into him and flow through his veins. He wants to remember the taste of Mike even in a dozen years, he wants Mike’s tongue to be a permanent sensation in his mouth.
And even as Will kisses Mike, again and again, he wishes he was his lover more and more. It’s like he can’t get enough. It seems to be the same for Mike.
Will feels the floor on his back as Mike changes their position to be the one laying on top of Will. The dark haired man places himself in between his boyfriend’s legs, kisses him harder than before.
Will thinks everything was worth it. The acting and the borderline lying. To have Mike look at him with his brown eyes full of admiration, pleading like a sad puppy to be forgiven. To have Mike kiss him
hard on his bedroom’s floor. To have Mike whisper against his mouth the sweetest confession.
“I love you, baby,” he smiles against Will’s mouth.
Will smiles back, “Shut up,” is the first thing he answers with. Mike continues to kiss him and it’s hard to add, “I love you too.”
(Later on, he calls Max again.
“Did he beg?” She asks as soon as she picks up the phone.
Will is, somehow, too stunned to speak. He doesn’t know what he expected from her.
He comes back to his senses quickly enough to explain to her what happened before Mike comes out of his room again—all pissed and jealous of the attention Max steals from him.
Max smirks from the other line, “Was it worth it?”
Mike’s embrace tightens around his waist and he’s kissing his jaw. Will doesn’t hesitate, “Yeah.”)