Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The air was frigid on Boston College’s campus—the kind of cold that seeped through jackets and turned every breath into fog. Macklin’s breath clouded the car window as he leaned his head against the cool glass. He wasn’t nervous about moving away from home, not really—mostly because Aiden would be there with him. Still, his stomach had been tight for the entire drive, like something bad might happen the second he stepped out of the car. He was a creature of habit, and change always left him feeling unsteady.

His dad cleared his throat roughly, snapping Macklin out of his thoughts. They had arrived outside Aiden’s frat house, Mack’s unfortunate home for his next year at BC.

“I’m just dropping you off here, Macklin. No reason for me to come inside.”

Mack nodded and, without a word, opened the car door to escape the tense air inside. He said a quick “Bye” while waving slightly before he walked inside. Rick Celebrini never wanted Macklin to follow Aiden to Boston College. His reasoning behind that being Macklin was “too smart,” but their whole family knew the truth. Rick simply didn’t think as highly of Mack as he did of Aiden, and he didn’t want Macklin ruining the Celebrini “name” Aiden had already created there. Rick loved sports. So naturally, when Macklin quit hockey when he was twelve, it felt like Rick almost completely disowned him. Aiden never quit though, in fact, he was still playing at BC, so at least Rick had one son he could be proud of. Maybe his dad didn’t mean to, but Mack had always felt irrelevant to him—like no matter what he did, he would always come second to Aiden. It was tiresome, and left Mack feeling desperate for any kind of validation he was able to receive.

All of Mack’s stuff was already in his room before he arrived today, because Aiden had brought it with him on his way back to BC from Vancouver the last time he visited. Macklin hugged his sweatshirt tightly to his body, keeping his head down as he hurried toward the tall wooden door of the fraternity, already wishing he could just disappear into his room and not have to talk to anyone. Aiden had already given him a virtual tour of the place, and he’d met some of the guys, but not all of them. Mack wasn’t an official member of the frat house. He was just staying there because Aiden had gotten permission from their president, and he had nowhere else to go. Mack didn’t really want to stay in the frat house. The idea of constantly being surrounded by people made his chest feel tight. He would have preferred a dorm with another random freshman, but Aiden hadn’t really given him a choice. As much as Mack loved Aiden, he could be real stubborn sometimes, and also protective, which isn’t a good combination, especially for Macklin.

He was still speed-walking to the door with his head down. Just before he reached it, he ran straight into someone solid, nearly knocking himself over if it weren’t for the steady hands that caught his arm and waist. Mack looked up to match a face to the, hands that had steadied him, and found a pair of bright blue eyes, wide with surprise and softened with concern. After he studied the stranger’s features for another second, he began to wonder if he was dreaming.

He’d never seen a face that looked this perfect before.

The guy’s eyes were blue—obviously—but sharp yet soft, capable of conveying a hundred different emotions. His features were sharp as well—a defined jawline, sloped nose, and surprisingly plush lips. His hair was blonde, wavy, sitting perfectly on his head with a few pieces curling into his face in a way that looked effortless. His grin was beautiful—big white teeth flashing easily, the kind of smile that made it obvious he was used to people liking him.

“Woah, you okay?”

Mack almost swooned at the sound, and failed to find the right words to answer with.

The guy laughed at his lack of response, “Hey, you’re Aiden’s brother aren’t you? Macklin right?”

Mack just nodded, still unable to find the right words as his brain slowly caught up with reality. He always seemed to unintentionally stall like that when people looked at him for too long. Mack could feel his face as it flushed and hoped the guy wouldn’t notice, or chalk it up to the freezing temperature.

“You just got here then? I thought Aid said you wouldn’t be here till tomorrow?”

His face scrunched up in confusion, and this time these are questions that unfortunately for Mack, actually require verbal responses.

In a soft voice Mack said “Yeah, we left a day early because I was feeling ready.” Mack avoided eye contact, staring somewhere around the guy’s shoulder instead, but slowly looked up when he could feel his eyes drifting off of him.

“Well we’re all glad you’re here Mack,” the guy snapped his eyes back to Mack’s, giving him a soft smirk.

The guy—Will, Mack learned a moment later as he introduced himself while leading him inside— explained that Aiden had left to go do something, but Mack kind of zoned it out so he didn’t really hear what Aiden was doing, or the rest of Will’s sentence.

“Macklin?”

Will’s voice zoned him back in, “Y-Yeah sorry what’d you say?”

He blushed at his own inattention to Will, who he had literally met five minutes ago but already felt strangely comfortable around.

“I was just asking if you needed me to show you where your room is, or do you already know…?” Will trailed his question off softly, looking Macklin in the eyes with a caring gaze, like he somehow already knew how Macklin needed to be addressed.

Mack had never done well with harsh words, abrasive tones, or expectant glances. They made him feel small and sent his thoughts spiraling. Will, on the other hand, spoke in soft, soothing tones that soothed him almost immediately. Something about the calm way Will spoke and the softness in his gaze made Mack feel like he wasn’t in the way.

“Oh I- yeah I don’t know where it’s at, can you show me?”

Will nodded, and headed up the two flights of stairs to the third floor with Mack trailing carefully behind him. There was chatter throughout the house coming from the main level, and some of the bedrooms on the second floor, but Mack and Will didn’t run into anyone, much to Mack’s relief. When they hit the third floor, Will explained that only Aiden, Mack, and Will would be on this floor because Aiden was the Vice President, Will was the President, and Aiden wanted Mack’s room near his.

Mack’s eyes widened and his eyebrows raised at the information, questioning Will in a soft surprised tone, “You’re the president?”

Will laughed softly at Mack’s cute response and ruffled Mack’s hair, “Yeah Mackie, but it’s okay, you don’t gotta treat me any differently.”

Mack blushed at the touch, and the nickname, unused to being treated so well by another person, outside of his family, with the exception of Rick.

“Your stuff’s all in there, yeah?”

Will slowly pushed the door to Mack’s room open and sure enough, everything was there, just like Aiden promised.

“Aiden brought it all back with him last week,” Mack mumbled, mostly to himself.

Will studied him curiously for a moment. Mack stood there quietly, hands tucked inside the sleeves of his sweatshirt, fingers nervously fidgeting in the fabric. Unbeknownst to Mack, Aiden had told Will all about him. The good and the bad, so there was a lot to tell. All in all, Will felt a strong sense of protectiveness over the boy. He’d been through absolute hell, and Will just wanted Mack to feel important again. Even though he didn’t really know Mack, he wanted to. He wanted to know more about him than Aiden had already shared. Will knew that would take a lot because Mack was a heavily guarded person, he was more than willing to work for his trust though. In Will’s eyes, Mack deserved the world. He was a kind person, Will could tell and he’d only just met him. He truly cared about what people thought of him, and definitely had a longing to just meet everyone’s standards. He was cute too, shy, curious, obedient, and responsive;

Mack was absolutely fucking adorable.

He could never have Mack though, not like that, Mack was way too good for him, he didn’t even have a shot. He’d still do his best to make Mack feel wanted and safe from far away. After all, Aiden asked him to, and he couldn’t deny the requests from one of his best friends.

Mack needed it too, so, Will would do everything it took.

“I’m leaving for a bit, heading to the gym, but you’ll let me know if you need anything? Aiden gave you my number right?”

Will studied him more, this time, taking note of every little feature; his small little tooth gap between his two front teeth, the blush from his face steadily working its way down to disappear under his hoodie, the soft strands of brown hair that fell into his face. Unfortunately for Will, Mack was beautiful too. He was utterly doomed.

Mack shot him a worried look and shook his head furiously. Maybe in response to him leaving for the gym, but probably in response to not having Will’s number.

“Oh okay, that’s fine. Here.”

Will pulled his phone out quickly for Mack to put his number into, and Mack accepted his phone with shaking, hesitant hands.

After Mack handed him back his phone, Will sent a text so that Mack would have his number in his own phone.

“There we go. Tell me if you need anything, seriously Mack, don’t be afraid to reach out.”

Mack distantly nodded, but Will seemed unsure, so he softly put a hand on Macklin’s shoulder and tilted his chin up with the other to force eye contact.

“Verbal confirmation Mack”

Mack’s eyes went wide, and his mouth parted a little, but he managed a small “Yeah,” despite his flustered state.

That satisfied Will, and he gave a tight lipped smile, along with a nod in response.

Before he left, Will mentioned that the other guys were either in their rooms, or out, so if Mack wanted, he could go meet them, but not unless Mack really wanted to. He mentioned dinner too, said something about Aiden and him getting back around the same time, and they could all go get something together. But Mack was only half listening, already thinking about getting all of his school stuff ready so that it was good by Monday. He had the weekend, but wanted to get it done quickly so that he could just curl up in his bed.

Mack nodded through it, longing to unpack his things. After Will finished talking, he lingered in the doorway for half a second longer, like he was waiting to make sure Mack was actually okay before he left. Then he gave him one last look, soft and careful, and pulled the door shut behind him.

The room went quiet.

Not fully quiet, because nothing in the frat house could ever really be quiet, but quiet enough. There was still distant laughter somewhere below him, the dull thud of a door closing on the second floor, and music pulsing low enough through the walls that it sounded more like a heartbeat than an actual song. But it was better than being downstairs. Better than having to stand in the middle of all that noise and smile at strangers and pretend he wasn’t counting down the minutes until he could be alone.

Mack exhaled slowly and turned toward his room.

He hated how sterile and characterless it looked. It made him feel boxed in, like a jail cell with softer furniture. Aiden had at least made sure all of his stuff was here like he promised. Boxes were stacked against the wall, his bedding was already on the mattress, and his desk had been shoved under the window overlooking the street. The pale winter light coming in made everything look washed out and cold, even from inside.

Mack stepped farther into the room and shut the door behind him, twisting the lock without really thinking about it.

Only then did his shoulders drop.

It had been a long drive. A long day. A long everything, really.

He stood in the middle of the room for a second just looking at all of it, trying to figure out where to start. There was too much stuff, but not enough stuff, because none of it made the room feel like his yet. It still smelled unfamiliar too—like detergent, old wood, and whatever cologne Aiden probably wore when he dropped Mack’s things off last week.

Mack moved to the bed first.

That felt easiest.

He smoothed his hands over the comforter, then tugged one corner loose and fixed it, even though it really didn’t need fixing. After that he adjusted the pillows, then adjusted them again until they were sitting evenly against the headboard. He set his phone on the nightstand, took it back, wiped the screen on his hoodie, and set it down again, softer this time.

Then he moved to the boxes.

The first one had school stuff in it. That was good. Safe. Simple.

Mack crouched down and started unpacking his notebooks one by one, stacking them by subject even though classes hadn’t started yet. Then his folders. Then the pack of black pens he liked best, followed by his highlighters, sticky notes, index cards, and the calculator he always kept in the front pocket of his backpack. He arranged all of it in neat little rows inside the top drawer of his desk, then opened the drawer again and shifted the pens until they were parallel.

Better.

His backpack came next. He hung it on the side of the desk chair instead of dropping it on the floor, because dropping it on the floor felt wrong. Too careless. Too messy. He plugged in his laptop charger, wrapped the extra cord tightly around itself, then unwrapped it and redid it because the first time had looked uneven.

By the time he finished with the desk, his breathing had finally started to come easier.

It was stupid, probably. The way having all of his things in the right places made his brain feel less loud. But if his room looked right, sometimes everything else stopped feeling like it was slipping out from underneath him.

The second box had clothes.

Mack pulled open the dresser drawers and started sorting. Sweatshirts in one. T-shirts in another. Pajama stuff separate from regular clothes. Socks rolled together. Underwear pushed to the back where no one would see it if they opened the drawer for some reason, which nobody should, but still.

He went through the closet next, and by the time he reached the back of the closet, he found the garment bag his mom had insisted on packing even though he told her he probably wouldn’t need it. He moved it aside, along with his favorite shark stuffed animal, and saw a shoebox tucked behind one of his duffels. It wasn’t his, at least not originally. Aiden’s handwriting was scrawled across the top in black marker.

for ur room. don’t be dramatic about it.

Mack stared at it for a second before dragging it out

Inside was a mix of random stuff that made something in his heart ache so suddenly he almost shut the lid again.

A framed picture of him and Aiden from years ago, both of them sunburnt and smiling at a lake somewhere in Vancouver. A blue blanket Mack used to drag around the house when he was little, folded into a square. A bag of his favorite candy. A tiny bottle of lavender pillow spray his mom swore helped him sleep. And shoved under all of that, like Aiden had tried to hide it without actually hiding it, was an old BC hockey puck.

Mack froze.

His fingers brushed over the black rubber without picking it up.

For a second he just stared at it, his stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with memory.

He hadn’t touched anything hockey-related in a long time unless he absolutely had to. It wasn’t even because he hated it. That would have been easier. Instead it just felt like poking at an old bruise that never really went away, because hockey had once been his too, before it became Aiden’s thing, before it became the thing Rick measured his sons by.

Mack swallowed and lifted the puck out anyway.

Boston College Eagles.

The logo was slightly scratched. He turned it over in his hand once, then twice, thumb dragging over the rough edge.

Maybe Aiden hadn’t meant anything by it. Maybe he just thought Mack would want a piece of home here, or something to match the campus, or maybe he’d packed it absentmindedly because hockey was such a normal part of his own life that he forgot it wasn’t normal for Mack.

Still, it made his throat feel tight.

After another second, Mack opened the top desk drawer, moved his pens aside, and set the puck in the very back where he didn’t have to look at it but also didn’t have to throw it away.

That felt fair.

He took the picture frame out next.

That one he kept.

Mack carried it over to the nightstand and propped it against the lamp. In the photo, Aiden had one arm slung around his shoulders and the other hand raised in some blurry peace sign. Mack had been missing his two front teeth and looked ridiculous. Aiden looked exactly the same somehow, just younger and less annoying.

The corner of Mack’s mouth twitched.

“Stop being dramatic,” he muttered under his breath, even though Aiden wasn’t there to hear it.

Then he unfolded the little blue blanket and shoved it under his pillow like it was some big embarrassing secret.

He didn’t know why he did that. It wasn’t like anyone would care. But the thought of somebody seeing it and realizing he still slept with old comfort things sometimes made heat creep up his neck.

The last thing in the box was a folded note.

Mack almost missed it. It had been tucked between the candy and the pillow spray, a sheet of lined paper ripped messily from what looked like one of Aiden’s notebooks.

He opened it with a small frown.

don’t freak out and make yourself sick before the first day

eat something

text me if you hate it here

don’t text dad if you hate it here

• aid

Mack stared at the note for so long that the words started to blur.

It was so Aiden. Barely any punctuation. Half rude, half caring. Like he’d rather throw himself down a staircase than openly admit he was worried, so instead he wrote things like don’t text dad if you hate it here and hid pillow spray in a box.

Mack folded the note back up carefully and slid it into the drawer of the nightstand.

With that done, the room felt better. Not perfect. Not home. But more like Mack.

His books were lined up on the shelf. His chargers were plugged in. His clothes were put away. His bed was made. The little things that made his brain itch were gone now, or at least quieter.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress and looked around, taking in all his hard work to make the place feel lovable.

There.

It looked like somebody lived here now, and it was relieving.

He could still hear the frat house around him—voices carrying up the stairs, the occasional burst of laughter, footsteps overhead that made no sense because there wasn’t supposed to be a floor above him, which probably meant the noise was coming through the walls weirdly. It was still too much. Still unfamiliar. Still not something he wanted.

But Aiden’s note was in the nightstand. The picture was by the bed. His stuff was where it belonged.

And for the first time since the car ride, Mack didn’t feel like he was floating outside his own body.

Just tired.

So, so tired.

He kicked his shoes off without bothering to untie them and pulled himself farther onto the bed, meaning to only sit there for a minute. Maybe just close his eyes. Maybe let his brain be quiet for one second before he started getting all of his things ready for Monday.

His hand slipped under the pillow and found the edge of the folded blue blanket, while his other one wrapped tightly around his weighted shark stuffy.

Mack held onto the objects loosely, his eyes falling shut.

The room was still unfamiliar.

The house was still loud.

His life was still changing in ways that made his stomach hurt.

But at least the bed was soft, the door was locked, and for the moment, nobody was asking anything from him.

That was enough for Mack right now.

A few minutes later, still half-dressed in his sweatshirt and jeans, Mack drifted off to sleep.

When Mack woke, he shot up quickly, briefly unfamiliar with his surroundings in his sleepy haze. He quickly took in the details of his new room, and brought himself to the realization that he was at BC now, in the fuckass frat house that he was involuntarily sort of inducted into.

He sat cross legged in his bed, leaning against the headboard as he reached for his phone. Mack was a little worried that he still hadn’t heard from Aiden.

He sat with his phone on his leg as he contemplated whether or not to send Aiden a text himself. The screen had already gone dark once.

He tapped it again.

Still nothing.

Mack had texted him earlier, and Aiden had read the message—the one that said they were leaving Vancouver early—but he hadn’t said anything since. Which wasn’t unusual. Aiden was terrible at answering his phone. Half the time he forgot it existed unless someone physically handed it to him.

Still.

Mack chewed lightly on the inside of his cheek.

He opened their message thread.

The last thing he’d sent sat there, hours old.

Mack:
we’re leaving today actually

Below it, the tiny Read 10:14 AM stared back at him.

Mack sighed quietly and tilted his head back against the wall.

It wasn’t like he needed Aiden to answer. He already knew where he was staying. He already knew his classes started Monday. He already knew Aiden would eventually show up and act like everything was normal, because that was just how Aiden was.

But the room still felt unfamiliar.

The house felt too loud.

And Mack suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that he’d shown up somewhere he wasn’t really supposed to be.

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard.

Then he started typing.

Mack:
what are you doing?

He stared at it.

Deleted it.

Too needy.

He tried again.

Mack:
when are you getting back?

Deleted.

That sounded like he was waiting for him.

Which he definitely wasn’t.

Mack shifted on the bed and pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt farther over his hands before trying again.

Mack:
im here btw

He stared at that one too.

Then sighed and deleted it again.

His phone buzzed suddenly in his hand, making him jump a little.

For half a second he thought it might be Aiden.

But the notification was from an unknown number.

Mack frowned slightly and opened it.

Unknown:
You get settled in okay?

He blinked.

Then the contact name popped up above the message a second later.

Will

Mack’s stomach flipped in a weird, confusing way.

He hadn’t even realized Will had texted him yet.

Mack sat there for a moment, staring at the message like it might disappear if he looked away.

Then he slowly typed back.

Mack:
yeah

He hovered over the send button.

Deleted it.

Too short.

Typed again.

Mack:
yeah im good

Deleted again.

Why was texting harder than talking?

Mack rubbed his face tiredly and tried one more time.

Mack:
yeah i got everything put away

He hit send before he could rethink it.

The reply came almost immediately.

Will:
Good.
You finding your way around okay?

Mack exhaled softly.

He hadn’t realized how tense he was until that moment.

Mack:
i think so

Then, after a second:

Mack:
your house is big

He stared at the message immediately after sending it.

That sounded stupid.

But Will’s reply came back with a small typing bubble almost instantly.

Will:
It’s confusing at first
You’ll get used to it

Another bubble appeared.

Will:
Aiden still not back yet?

Mack paused.

His fingers hovered over the screen.

Mack:
no
you said he was doing something?

He frowned slightly.

He actually hadn’t heard what Will said earlier about where Aiden went.

Will’s next text came a few seconds later.

Will:
Library with Lane I think
They had something for class

Mack nodded faintly even though Will couldn’t see him.

That made sense.

Aiden was always either practicing, studying, or dragging someone else into studying with him.

Mack’s phone buzzed again.

But this time it wasn’t Will.

It was Aiden.

Aid 🤍:
you here already??

Mack’s shoulders relaxed a little.

Mack:
yeah

Three dots appeared almost instantly.

Aid 🤍:
why didn’t you tell me??

Mack frowned.

He scrolled up in the conversation and stared at the message he’d sent earlier.

we’re leaving today actually

He typed slowly.

Mack:
i did

A second passed.

Then Aiden replied.

Aid 🤍:
oh shit

Another message immediately followed.

Aid 🤍:
my bad
i didnt see that

Mack rolled his eyes a little.

Typical.

Aid 🤍:
you good?

Mack hesitated.

The honest answer sat heavy in his chest.

Not really.

The house still felt loud and unfamiliar, and his stomach still hurt from the drive, while his brain kept jumping between a hundred different thoughts at once.

But Aiden was probably still at the library.

And Mack didn’t want him worrying.

So he typed:

Mack:
yeah

Then quickly added:

Mack:
will showed me my room

Aiden replied immediately.

Aid 🤍:
good
told him to make sure you didn’t get lost

Mack snorted quietly at that.

He could practically hear Aiden saying it.

Another message popped up.

Aid 🤍:
ill be back soon
dont disappear on me

Mack stared at that one for a second.

Then typed

Mack:
ok

His phone buzzed one more time.

But this time it was Will again.

Will:
Aiden text you?

Mack blinked slightly.

Mack:
yeah

A second passed before Will replied.

Will:
Good.
He worries about you, you know.

Mack tensed a little at that.

He didn’t answer right away.

Will sent one more message a moment later.

Will:
I’ll be back around dinner time
We’ll drag you out to eat

Mack looked down at the words.

Something about the way Will said it—like it wasn’t really a question—made a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

He typed back.

Mack:
okay

Then he set his phone down beside him on the bed and leaned back against the wall again.

The house would probably always feel unfamiliar at this point.

But somehow, knowing both Aiden and Will would be back soon made it all feel a little less overwhelming.

Just a little.

A few minutes later, the quiet upstairs started to shift.

At first it was just the distant sound of the front door downstairs opening and shutting harder than necessary, followed by a burst of loud voices that carried up through the stairwell. Mack sat up a little straighter in bed without meaning to, his whole body going still as he listened.

Someone laughed—loud and sharp and easy, like they’d never once worried about how much space they were taking up.

Another voice shouted something back that Mack couldn’t make out, then there was a chorus of overlapping responses, the heavy stomp of shoes on the hardwood downstairs, and the unmistakable sound of multiple people all talking at once.

Mack’s stomach tightened.

He hated not knowing who was in the house. Hated not being able to picture where everyone was. Hated the way frat guys always seemed so naturally loud, like volume was part of the personality requirements. The music downstairs got a little louder too, bass thumping through the floor beneath him in steady vibrations that made his room feel less like his again.

He reached over and muted his phone, then sat there for another second debating if he should just stay where he was.

That was probably the smarter choice.

But then he heard Aiden’s voice.

Mack recognized it instantly, even buried under the others.

Some of the tension in his shoulders eased right away.

He slid out of bed before he could overthink it and padded over to his bedroom door, opening it slowly so it wouldn’t creak too much. The hallway outside was empty, dim except for the warm yellow light coming up from the staircase. Mack lingered there for a second, one hand still on the doorknob, listening.

Aiden was definitely downstairs now.

And Will was too.

He could hear him laughing.

The sound did something weird to Mack’s brain.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t already heard Will laugh—he had, a few times now—but this sounded different. Louder. Less careful. It rolled easily through the house, followed by a sharp, amused, “Shut the fuck up Gabo,” and then more laughter from the other guys.

Mack moved a little farther into the hallway, keeping close to the wall as he crept toward the staircase. He stopped before he got too close, just near enough that he could look down through the railing without being fully seen if nobody looked up.

The main floor was busier now.

There were a few guys spread out between the living room and kitchen, some standing around the island, one half-sprawled across the couch, another leaning against the counter with a Gatorade bottle in his hand. Mack only knew Aiden and Will for sure, though he vaguely recognized one or two others from FaceTime calls or pictures Aiden had shown him before. Everyone looked completely at ease in a way Mack couldn’t even imagine feeling here.

Aiden stood near the kitchen, backpack slung over one shoulder, saying something to a dark-haired guy beside him that made both of them snort.

Will was near the island.

And Mack saw it immediately.

The difference.

Will was still Will, obviously. Still pretty. Still broad shouldered and unfairly attractive. Still the kind of person everyone seemed to naturally orbit around. But around the other guys, he acted different. Bigger, almost. Looser. He was laughing louder, talking over people, shoving one of them lightly in the shoulder when he said something stupid. At one point the dark-haired guy near him reached over and smacked Will in the chest with the back of his hand, and Will just grinned and shoved him back harder.

“Yeah, because you’re a fucking idiot, Ryan,” Will said, shaking his head.

Ryan flipped him off without looking offended in the slightest.

Another guy—blond, wearing a backwards hat—said something from the couch that had the whole room reacting at once, and Will just barked out a laugh and tossed a balled-up napkin at his face.

It was strange.

Not bad strange.

Just… surprising.

Because that wasn’t how Will had been with him at all.

With Mack, Will spoke softly, like he was trying not to startle him. He gave him time to answer. He looked at him like every word out of his mouth mattered, even the awkward ones. He kept touching him gently too—his hair, his shoulder, his chin—and none of it had felt careless. Nothing about Will around Mack had been careless.

But down there with the others, he was all sharp edges and easy confidence, a loud grin and broad gestures and teasing insults that didn’t sound mean because everyone clearly gave them right back.

Mack watched him, confused in a way that made a blush slowly creep into his face.

Will wasn’t fake with him.

At least, Mack didn’t think he was.

That softness earlier had felt real. The careful way he looked at him had felt real too.

Which meant this was real too.

Mack didn’t really know what to do with that.

His fingers curled tighter around the sleeve covering his hands.

He should probably go back into his room.

Instead, he stayed where he was.

Someone near the kitchen—maybe Gabe? Mack wasn’t sure—said, “So where’s the little brother?”

Mack froze.

Aiden answered before anybody else could. “Upstairs.”

“Still hiding?” another voice called, amused.

Mack’s face burned.

Before Aiden could say anything, Will spoke.

“Leave him alone,” he said, and even from upstairs Mack could hear the difference in his tone.

Still casual.

Still easy.

But firmer.

The room didn’t go silent or anything dramatic like that, but a couple of the guys laughed under their breath and let it go. Ryan held both hands up like okay, okay, and grabbed something from the counter. Aiden looked over at Will for half a second, like he’d noticed it too, but didn’t say anything.

Mack’s stomach flipped.

It was such a little thing.

A stupid little thing, honestly.

But none of them had even seen him, and Will still stepped in.

Not in a big dramatic way. Not in a way that would make it awkward later. Just enough.

Mack liked that more than he probably should have.

Then Aiden glanced up toward the stairs and spotted him.

“There he is,” he called, loud enough that immediately made Mack want to disappear.

Every head downstairs tilted up.

Mack’s body went hot all at once.

He nearly backed away, but then Will turned too, and whatever expression he’d been wearing around the others shifted the second his eyes landed on Mack.

That was the other thing.

The biggest thing, actually.

Will’s whole face changed around him.

It softened in this instant, almost automatic way, like he didn’t even have to think about it. The loud, cocky frat president thing melted right off him, leaving behind the same warm gaze Mack had gotten earlier at the door.

There was even this tiny little smile on his mouth. Not the grin he gave the others. Not the sharp, cocky one.

Something smaller.

Something just for Mack.

Mack’s heart gave one hard, awful thud.

“Hey, Mackie,” Will called up, voice gentler now. “You okay up there?”

And there it was again.

The difference.

Nobody else got that voice.

Nobody else got looked at like that either, from what Mack could tell.

Mack nodded once, unable to trust himself to speak in front of all of them.

Will didn’t push him.

Just tilted his head and gave him another little smile, like the nod was enough, like Mack had answered properly even without words.

Aiden, of course, was not nearly as subtle.

“Come down here, dude,” he said. “You’ve gotta meet everybody eventually.”

Mack immediately looked at Will.

It happened without thinking.

They met eyes, and whatever Mack needed to hear was somehow already there in Will’s expression.

Will leaned one hip against the counter and looked back up at him, reading him so fast it was almost embarrassing. “Only if you want to,” he said, and then after a second, softer, “Or I can bring them up one at a time later so it’s less awful.”

A couple of the guys downstairs laughed at that, but not in a mean way. More like they were entertained by how serious Will sounded.

Still, Mack’s chest tightened around something warm.

Will was more patient. More careful. Like Mack was something to be handled gently instead of thrown into the middle of things and expected to figure it out.

And maybe Mack should’ve hated that.

Maybe he should’ve found it embarrassing, being treated differently, being so obvious in what he could and couldn’t handle.

But he didn’t.

He liked it.

Way too much, actually.

Liked that Will cared, and that he adjusted.

Liked that the loudest person in the room somehow became softer every time he looked at him.

Mack swallowed and forced himself to move, stepping down a few stairs instead of all the way. That seemed manageable. He kept one hand on the railing and looked mostly at Aiden, because looking at everybody else was hard.

Aiden smiled a little, probably because he knew even this was effort.

The dark-haired guy by him lifted a hand. “Lane.”

Someone near the couch pointed at himself and said, “Gabe.”

Then, “Ryan.”

“Jacob.”

“Cuttier,” another voice tossed in from the kitchen.

A dirty blond guy Mack vaguely remembered from one of Aiden’s pictures gave him an easy grin. “Other Will. Vote.”

Mack nodded at all of them, absolutely not retaining most of it.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

It came out small, but at least it came out.

“Proud of you,” Aiden said under his breath, just loud enough for Mack to hear, which made Mack roll his eyes a little.

Ryan looked between Mack and Will, then smirked a little.

“So this is the brother you’ve been talking about?” he said to Aiden.

Aiden nodded.

Ryan hummed thoughtfully, then jerked his thumb toward Will. “Careful leaving him around Smit, he might fuck him up.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Will hissed immediately, tossing a balled napkin at Ryan’s head.

Ryan caught it easily. “What? It’s true.”

Aiden rolled his eyes. “Relax. Will knows better.”

Will glanced up to meet Mack’s wide eyes for half a second, the easy grin he’d been wearing fading just slightly.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

Mack didn’t fully understand what they were talking about, but something about the way Ryan was looking between them made heat creep up his neck anyway.

Aiden must have picked up on Mack’s mood, because he pushed off the counter and said, “C’mon, let’s grab dinner before these idiots get worse.”

That earned him multiple offended responses at once.

Mack smiled before he could stop himself.

And as he came down the rest of the stairs, Will shifted closer without making it obvious, like he was quietly making space for him in the chaos.

And he liked it far more than he should have.

Mack agreed to dinner, mainly because according to Will and Aiden, the frat was hosting a party tonight, and he’d rather be out, than at the house with a rager in full force. Walls thumping, people screaming, and alcohol everywhere, definitely wasn’t his scene.

Will drove them to dinner, and they ended up at a small Italian place on the corner called Rizzoli’s. Will and Aiden swore it had the best Italian food in the world, which Mack honestly doubted, but he didn’t say that out loud. Turns out, Will had made a reservation before he left for his workout, so they got seated in a nice little corner booth right away.

Inside, the space felt like a loving embrace—intimate tables draped in white tablecloths, each one adorned with a flickering candle in a chianti bottle that cast romantic shadows across the exposed brick walls. The whole place smelled incredible too. Fresh basil, simmering tomato sauce, roasted garlic, and the faint earthy scent of parmesan melted together in the warm air, rich enough to make the room feel sleepy. Their table was circular with a semicircle booth wrapping around one side, so Mack didn’t have to worry about who to sit by.

Aiden slid in first and jerked his head for Mack to take the spot beside him. Mack did, grateful to be tucked toward the wall where there was less to look at and fewer people who could look at him. Will took the seat across from them, stretching one arm over the back of the booth like he’d been there a thousand times before.

“This place saved my life sophomore year,” Aiden said, grabbing a menu even though he barely glanced at it. “Coach made us do stadiums after we lost to BU and I thought my legs were actually gonna detach from my body.”

Will snorted. “You say that like it was some tragic team loss and not because you whiffed a breakaway in overtime.”

Aiden turned to glare at him. “I did not whiff.”

“You absolutely did.”

“It hit the post.”

“Which is just a louder, more embarrassing miss.”

Mack looked down at his menu to hide the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The way Aiden and Will bickered didn’t feel mean. It felt easy. Familiar. Like they’d had the exact same argument ten times already and both of them enjoyed it too much to let it die.

“Anyway,” Aiden muttered, still scowling a little, “Rizzoli’s saved my life.”

“You’re so goddamn dramatic Aiden,” Will said.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

Mack glanced up at that and caught Will grinning.

And then, like he could feel Mack looking, Will’s whole expression softened just a little.

He still looked like himself—still strong and handsome, still relaxed and confident in a way Mack didn’t think he’d ever be—but when his attention landed on Mack, something about him gentled. The sharp edges eased off. His grin got smaller. Softer. Like Mack made him instinctively quiet down in some weird invisible way.

Mack looked back at the menu before he could get caught staring.

A waiter appeared beside the table a minute later, notepad tucked under one arm. “Can I start you guys with drinks?”

“Water,” Aiden said automatically.

“Same,” Will added.

Then the waiter looked at Mack.

Mack froze.

He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

His fingers tightened slightly around the menu as the pause stretched just a little too long.

“Uh—”

“Water’s good?” Will cut in easily, glancing at Mack like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Mack nodded too fast. “Yeah.”

The waiter scribbled it down and left.

Aiden didn’t seem to notice. He was already talking again, launching into a story about one of his professors and some attendance policy that sounded objectively stupid. But Will noticed. Mack knew he did. He didn’t say anything about it, which somehow made Mack like him even more.

“You’re gonna hate Verner,” Aiden said, finally dragging Mack into the conversation. “Like, truly hate him. He assigns buttloads of homework and hands out C’s like free mints.”

“That is literally not true,” Will said.

“Yes it is.”

“No, it’s not. He gives C’s to dumbasses who don’t go to class.”

Aiden scoffed. “And what exactly are you implying?”

“That you’re a dumbass who didn’t go to class.”

“I went to class.”

“You showed up twenty minutes late with a coffee and no notebook.”

“That still counts.”

Will looked over at Mack then, clearly expecting him to agree. “See what I deal with?”

Mack blinked, caught off guard by being included, then looked at Aiden, who was already rolling his eyes.

“He’s annoying,” Mack said quietly.

Aiden gasped. “Oh, that’s insane. You know you love me Mackie.”

Aiden put him in a teasing headlock, and Mack grumbled and glared at him in response.

Will laughed, bright and easy, and Mack felt that weird low flutter in his stomach again.

The waiter came back with waters and asked if they were ready to order.

Aiden didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, he’ll have the baked ziti.”

Mack looked at him but didn’t argue.

The waiter just nodded and scribbled it down.

Will didn’t react at all, but Mack could feel him noticing. Not judging—just noticing, like he was quietly filing every little thing away.

Will ordered some kind of chicken parm, Aiden got lasagna, and then the waiter left again, leaving a momentary lull at the table.

Mack messed with the edge of his napkin.

He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands in restaurants. Or most places, really.

Aiden launched into another story, this one about a guy from the team accidentally walking into the wrong lecture hall and sitting through half a bio class before realizing none of it was English.

Will interrupted every few seconds to correct details or make it sound more embarrassing than it probably was.

Mack mostly listened.

That was easiest.

The restaurant was busy but not awful. Plates clinked softly somewhere near the kitchen. Silverware tapped against glasses. Voices blurred together in the background like static. It was a little loud, but not frat-house loud, not overwhelming enough to make him want to disappear.

Still, every now and then, a sharp burst of laughter from another table would make something in him flinch.

The third time it happened, Will noticed.

Of course he did.

A table somewhere behind Mack erupted all at once, some giant laugh cutting through the room loud enough to make Mack tense around the shoulders. He barely moved. Just a little tightening, a little pause in the way his fingers curled around his water glass.

Aiden kept talking.

Will’s eyes flicked to Mack, then back to Aiden.

“Anyway,” Will cut in, lowering his own voice like he hadn’t just redirected the whole table. “Verner only gives that much homework if you skip the reading and half the lectures.”

Aiden squinted at him. “You’re so full of shit.”

But he leaned in too, following Will’s quieter tone without even realizing it.

Mack looked down at the table.

There was something about being noticed so carefully, without having to ask, that made his head feel fuzzy.

Their food came not too long after that.

Aiden thanked the waiter, then immediately started eating like he hadn’t seen food in weeks. Will laughed at him for that too.

Mack’s baked ziti smelled good. Really good, actually. But the second he picked up his fork, his stomach tightened in that annoying way it always did when he was in public. It wasn’t even that he wasn’t hungry. He was. He just suddenly felt too perceived, too aware of where his elbows were and how he was sitting and whether anyone was paying attention to how much he was eating.

It was stupid.

No one cared.

He knew that.

Still, he only took a couple of small bites before mostly just pushing the pasta around.

Aiden didn’t say anything about it. He almost never did.

Will, on the other hand, noticed after about five minutes.

Again.

Mack was starting to think Will noticed everything.

Aiden was halfway through a story about some brutal conditioning skate when he paused long enough to point his fork toward Mack’s plate.

“You gonna eat that,” he asked, “or are you just emotionally supporting it?”

Mack stared at him.

Will burst out laughing immediately, loud enough that a few people glanced over.

“Oh my god,” he said, shaking his head. “That might be the most accurate description of him I’ve ever heard.”

Mack tried to glare at both of them.

It probably would’ve worked better if his mouth hadn’t twitched.

Then, before he could stop it, a quiet laugh slipped out.

A real one.

Small, but real.

Will’s whole expression softened the second he heard it.

Like that had been the point.

Like he’d wanted that exact sound out of Mack and was stupidly pleased with himself for getting it.

Mack ducked his head, suddenly very interested in his plate again.

“Both of you are annoying,” he mumbled.

Aiden grinned. “There he is.”

Will was still smiling.

It made Mack’s face feel warm.

They kept talking after that, more about BC than anything else. Aiden complained about professors. Will talked about which buildings on campus had the best study spots and which dining hall food was most edible, which turned into another argument because Aiden insisted Will had “corrupted taste buds from living in a frat.”

At some point Aiden mentioned parties.

Mack stiffened a little before he could stop himself.

“There’s always something going on at the house,” Aiden said, spearing a piece of lasagna. “Especially the first few weeks.”

Will nodded. “Yeah, but they’re easy to avoid if you want.”

Mack looked down at his fork.

“I don’t think I’d be very good at that stuff,” he admitted quietly.

Neither of them spoke for a second.

Aiden tilted his head. “At what?”

Mack shrugged a little, still not looking up. “Frat stuff. The parties. All the people.”

He poked at one of the noodles on his plate.

“I think I’d just end up hiding somewhere.”

The words slipped out before he could catch them.

Heat crept into his face immediately after.

Aiden’s expression softened.

But Will answered first.

“You won’t have to.”

Mack looked up.

Will was watching him steadily from across the table, his voice calm and certain in a way that made Mack’s chest go oddly tight.

“Not unless you want to,” Will added.

It was such a simple thing to say, but something about the way he said it made it feel bigger. More like a promise rather than forced reassurance.

Mack held his gaze for maybe a second too long before looking back down.

“Okay,” he said softly.

For the rest of dinner, he still didn’t eat much. A few more bites, maybe. Enough to make it look like he was trying.

Aiden clearly wasn’t worried. He knew Mack well enough by now not to push.

Will was a little harder to read.

He kept glancing at Mack’s plate when he thought Mack wouldn’t notice. Kept doing these tiny checks, like making sure he was still okay, still following the conversation, still with them.

Mack took note of every single check, and probably liked every single one more than he should’ve.

By the time they were done, there was still more than half of Mack’s food left.

The waiter came by and asked if they wanted boxes.

“Yeah,” Aiden said.

Will nodded too. “For his, especially.”

The waiter disappeared for a minute, then came back with three containers. Mack automatically reached for his, but Will was already pulling the plate toward himself.

“I got it,” he said.

Mack’s hand stopped midway to the table.

Will scooped the pasta into the takeout box like it was nothing, like helping him was the most natural thing in the world, then snapped the lid shut and slid it back across the table to him.

“Eat it later,” he said lightly.

Mack nodded once.

“Okay.”

It came out quieter than he meant it to.

Will just gave him that same small, private smile again. The one that looked different from all his others.

And Mack had to break eye contact before his whole face gave him away.

When they got back, the party was still going on, so Will took Mack’s food to the kitchen to put it in the fridge for him. Mack let him, grateful not to linger near the party.

The second they stepped fully inside, the warmth of the frat house hit Mack all at once, thick with body heat, alcohol, and whatever overly sweet drink somebody had spilled somewhere nearby. The bass downstairs thumped so hard it felt like it was coming up through the soles of his shoes, rattling faintly in his ribs. Voices overlapped from every direction—laughing, shouting, talking way too loud over music that was already loud enough on its own.

Mack stopped just past the doorway without meaning to.

He hadn’t realized dinner had made him relax until now, until the noise of the house swallowed him up again and his whole body went tight.

Aiden noticed first, because Aiden always noticed the big things.

“You good?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder as he shrugged out of his jacket.

Mack nodded automatically, even though he definitely wasn’t. “Yeah.”

It was a bad lie. Not horrible, but bad enough that Aiden gave him a look.

Before he could say anything else, one of the guys from downstairs yelled his name.

“Aid! Get your ass down here, we need another team.”

Aiden groaned. “Jesus Christ.”

Another voice shouted over the music, “Lane’s being a cheating bitch again.”

“That is literally not true!” someone else yelled back, immediately followed by a burst of laughter.

Aiden rubbed a hand down his face, then looked back at Mack.

“You can just head upstairs if you want,” he said. “You don’t gotta hang around down here.”

Mack nodded again, more honestly this time.

“Okay.”

Aiden’s expression softened a little. “I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

Mack knew that probably meant later, not soon. Once Aiden got pulled into something with the guys, time kind of stopped existing to him. Still, the fact that he said it made something in Mack’s chest ease just a tiny bit.

Before Aiden headed off, he reached over and squeezed the back of Mack’s neck once, quick and familiar.

Then he was gone, pulled into the living room by noise and laughter and about four people talking to him at once.

Mack stood there for another second, feeling weirdly abandoned even though he knew that was dramatic.

It wasn’t Aiden’s fault.

This was his house too. His people. His normal.

Mack just wasn’t part of it.

He tightened his grip on the sleeves of his sweatshirt and started toward the stairs, keeping his head down so he wouldn’t accidentally make eye contact with anybody. He made it a few steps before someone brushed past him too close, the sharp smell of vodka and cologne following in their wake.

“Sorry, man,” the guy said, barely looking at him before disappearing toward the kitchen.

Mack mumbled something that probably didn’t even sound like words and kept going.

By the time he hit the second floor, the music was a little duller, but not by much. It still pounded through the walls in heavy bursts. Somewhere down the hall, a bedroom door was open and a group of girls were crowded around a mirror laughing over something one of them said while a guy sat on the edge of a bed filming them badly.

Mack instantly looked away.

He took the stairs to the third floor quicker after that.

It was quieter up there, but not quiet. The bass still carried. So did the voices, muffled now, like the house itself was humming beneath him. Mack exhaled shakily and headed for his room, already thinking about locking the door again, changing into something soft, maybe getting under the covers and pretending the rest of the house didn’t exist.

He finally reached his room, and the engulfing silence that came along with closing his bedroom door, was heavenly.

His pajamas for the night were—an old hoodie of Aiden’s that was way too big on him, and a pair of his own boxers. He made his way into the shared bathroom on the third floor, and realized that the noise from downstairs had dulled a little, muffled by walls and distance, but it was still there. Still enough to make his shoulders feel tight.

He changed quickly, folding his jeans and sweatshirt more neatly than necessary and setting them on the counter while he washed his face. The bathroom light was a little too bright, harsh against tired eyes, and the mirror made him look just as overwhelmed as he felt. His hair was messy from sleep and from pushing his hands through it all evening, and there was a faint flush sitting high on his cheeks that refused to go away.

Mack dried his face, stared at himself for a second longer, then looked away.

He was tired.

That was the main thing.

Tired from the drive, from the move, from meeting too many new people in one day, from thinking too much about Will and trying very hard not to think about Will at the exact same time.

The bass downstairs thumped faintly through the floor.

Mack exhaled through his nose and reached for his discarded sweatshirt, already planning to go straight back to his room, lock the door, and curl up under the covers with his shark until his brain finally shut off.

Then there was a knock at the bathroom door.

Not loud.

Just two soft taps.

Mack stilled.

“Mack?” Will’s voice came from the other side, warm even through the wood. “You in here?”

Mack’s stomach flipped in that weird, annoying way it kept doing around him.

He crossed the bathroom in a few steps and pulled the door open.

Will was leaning against the frame across from it, one shoulder braced casually against the wall, like he’d been trying very hard not to crowd him even from outside. His expression was soft the second Mack looked at him.

And, unhelpfully, he looked really fucking good.

He was shirtless, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his hair a little messy like he’d run his hands through it on the way upstairs. Mack’s eyes caught on the broad line of his shoulders first, then the toned planes of his chest, then lower for half a second before he yanked them back up so quickly it almost hurt.

Heat rushed through him all at once.

Will definitely saw where Mack’s eyes went.

But even so, he was nice enough not to say anything about it. His mouth just twitched slightly, like he was trying not to smile too hard and embarrass Mack even more.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

Mack blinked at him once, still holding the bathroom door half open. “Hi.”

That came out softer than he meant it to.

Will’s eyes flicked over him then, quick and careful. Taking in the oversized hoodie, the sleep-rumpled hair, the bare legs, the fact that Mack was still clutching his old sweatshirt in one hand like he needed something to hide behind.

Something in Will’s expression gentled even more.

Mack didn’t know how that was possible, but apparently it was.

“You okay?” Will asked.

Mack nodded automatically.

Then, because lying to Will was getting increasingly pointless, he shrugged a little instead.

Will huffed a tiny laugh. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Mack looked down at the floor.

For a second neither of them said anything. The music downstairs kept pounding faintly under the silence, and from farther away came the muffled sound of someone yelling, followed by a chorus of laughter.

Will tilted his head toward the staircase. “Aid got kidnapped by the party.”

That made Mack glance up.

Will smiled a little. “Figured I should let you know before you went looking for him.”

Mack let out a quiet breath through his nose that was almost a laugh.

“Sounds like him,” he murmured.

“It really does.”

Another second passed.

Then Will shifted, pushing off the wall just enough to stand a little straighter.

“I was wondering,” he said, voice still easy, still soft in that way Mack had started noticing belonged mostly to him, “if you wanted to watch a movie with me.”

Mack stared at him.

Not because he hadn’t heard him.

Just because his brain had sort of stopped working.

“A movie?” he repeated, brilliantly.

Will’s mouth curved. “That is what I said, yeah.”

Mack’s face went warm again.

He hated how obvious he probably was.

But also maybe not enough, because Will didn’t seem annoyed by it. If anything, he looked kind of fond. Which was a whole separate problem Mack didn’t have the emotional stamina to unpack right now.

“You don’t wanna be downstairs?” Mack asked softly, because that was still the part he couldn’t wrap his head around.

Will shrugged one shoulder. “Not particularly.”

Mack looked at him for a second, unconvinced.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Okay, fine. Usually I would.” He glanced vaguely toward the floor, where the music was still shaking the house. “But tonight I’d rather do something else.”

Something about the way he said it made Mack’s pulse trip over itself.

It was probably nothing.

Just words.

Still.

“Why?” Mack asked before he could stop himself.

The question hung there for half a second too long.

Will looked at him, really looked at him, and for one awful second Mack thought maybe he’d crossed a line. Asked something weird. Made it awkward.

But then Will’s expression softened instead of closing off.

“Because,” he said slowly, like he was trying to answer honestly without saying too much, “I figured you might not wanna be alone with all that going on downstairs.”

Mack’s grip tightened on his sweatshirt.

Fuck.

That was somehow worse.

Worse in the sense that it made his heart race and his stomach flip.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

Will’s gaze dropped briefly to the hand bunching fabric at Mack’s side, then lifted back to his face.

“We can just watch for a little bit,” he added, and his tone went lighter, giving Mack an out before he even had to reach for one. “Or I can leave you alone if that sounds worse. I’m trying to seem charming here, not kidnap you.”

That pulled a tiny smile out of Mack before he could stop it.

Will noticed immediately.

“There he is,” he murmured, sounding absurdly pleased with himself.

Mack rolled his eyes a little, but he could feel the smile lingering.

“You’re weird,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, but lovable.”

That made Mack think of Ryan’s comment earlier, and unfortunately that made him think of Will looking up at him on the stairs with that unfairly soft expression again, and unfortunately that made his whole body react a second time.

He looked away.

Will waited.

That was another thing Mack was noticing about him.

He waited.

Didn’t rush to fill every silence. Didn’t push the second Mack went quiet. Just stood there in the hallway, broad and warm and ridiculous, letting Mack come to an answer in his own time.

Which, honestly, might have been the thing Mack liked most.

“I’d watch a movie,” Mack said at last, still looking somewhere around Will’s shoulder instead of at his face.

Will smiled.

Mack could hear it before he fully looked back up.

“Yeah?” he asked.

Mack nodded.

“Yeah.”

That seemed to genuinely make Will happy, which was… a lot.

“Okay,” Will said. “C’mon, we can watch in my room. The tv’s better in there.”

And there it was.

The new thing for Mack’s brain to get stuck on.

His room.

For some reason, that made Mack suddenly, painfully aware that Will was still standing there shirtless in grey sweatpants, looking like somebody Mack should probably not be alone in a bedroom with if he wanted his internal organs to keep functioning normally.

Mack swallowed.

His body heated up in that unfamiliar, dizzy way again, and this time he was pretty sure Will saw for real, because his eyes flicked over Mack’s face once before he stepped back a little, giving him more room.

“You can grab whatever you want first,” Will said easily, making it sound casual, like he hadn’t just watched Mack short-circuit in real time. “Blanket, charger, emotional support shark. I’m flexible.”

Mack’s eyes widened.

Will grinned.

“Oh my god,” Mack muttered, finally making eye contact.

Will laughed softly. “That was a joke, relax. I only know about sharkie because you carry him around like he pays rent.”

That made Mack want to sink directly through the floor.

But it also made him laugh. A small, helpless sound that slipped out before he could stop it.

Will’s whole face lit up again.

Definitely the point.

“Go get your stuff, Mackie,” he said, voice warm and far too pleased. “I’ll be in my room.”

Mack nodded, still flustered.

“Okay.”

Will pushed off the wall and took a few backward steps down the hall toward his room, then paused and glanced back at him once.

“And Mack?”

Mack looked up.

“You really don’t have to ask permission to come hang out with me,” Will said. “Just so you know.”

Then he disappeared into his room before Mack could think of anything to say back.

Mack stood there in the bathroom doorway for a second longer, holding his sweatshirt and staring at the empty stretch of hallway like it had personally offended him.

His heart was beating way too fast.

His face was definitely still red.

And somehow, despite all of that, despite the exhaustion and the party downstairs and the fact that he’d known Will for less than a day, the idea of spending more time with him sounded a lot better than being alone.

It was probably a bad sign.

Still, Mack turned and headed for his room to put his clothes away and grab his shark.

Will’s door was slightly cracked open, so Mack pushed it wider and slipped inside.

Will was lounging in his bed, one arm behind his head, and the other rested on the bed with the remote in his hand, flipping through movies on Netflix. He had noticeably thrown a t-shirt on, probably in an effort to make Mack feel more comfortable. Nevertheless, Mack stood there awkwardly, unsure of where Will wanted him to go. Will noticed quick though, and flashed Mack a charismatic grin while patting the spot next to him on the bed softly.

“Got any good movie ideas Mackie?” Will asked him as he hopped up into bed with Will, settling against the headboard and pillows.

”Anything but scary movies. I hate ’em.”

Usually, Mack wouldn’t share his opinions with someone this quickly. Saying what he wanted always felt a little dangerous. But for Mack, Will seemed trustworthy. He already felt somewhat safe with him, and he had only just met him today. Honestly it was a huge step for Mack, however, after he said it, he immediately contradicted himself,

“Unless you wanted to, we can, I don’t care”

Mack really did care, actually. He cared a whole lot, and probably wouldn’t sleep for the next week if they did watch one. Will could tell though, Mack avoided eye contact with him, and started fiddling with a loose string on his stuffed animal, that he’d adorably brought with him.

“Nah it’s okay, I don’t like em’ much either. What about a romcom?”

Mack perked up at that, his eyes lit up and then he looked over at Will with a cute little grin. Will laughed a little, and scrolled to the romcoms, eventually deciding on “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days” because somehow, Mack had never seen it before.

While Will picked the movie, Mack looked around to fully take in his room. It was a traditional college guy living space: posters of hockey players and teams on the walls, a messy desk piled with textbooks and empty coffee mugs, and a king-sized bed pushed against the window overlooking the thumping party lights from downstairs. The bass from the music below vibrated faintly through the floor, but in Will’s room, it was like a little sanctuary. Mack had just noticed then, but being the frat president had its perks, because Will’s room was a lot bigger than his, or Aiden’s from what he’d seen over FaceTime. It had a walk in closet, his own bathroom which was attached to the same wall that his headboard was up against, the biggest tv, and the biggest bed.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie before Macklin,” Will pressed play, then melodramatically said “Aiden has really failed you bud.”

Mack rolled his eyes sarcastically, and let his giggles escape. Will quickly noted that those are sounds he wants to hear out of Macklin much more often.

As the movie got going, Mack had a hard time concentrating. It was a new feeling, watching a movie with his older brother’s best friend that he'd just met today, but somehow felt a strong connection to. He also couldn't stop looking at Will’s hand, silently tapping on the remote. It was so big. He wondered what it would feel like engulfing his own.

Eventually, Mack got sucked into the movie, and stopped noticing every little thing happening around him. He settled in, and even slipped under the blankets of Will’s bed. Will’s steady commentary kept him awake for most of the movie, but towards the end, with about 45 minutes left, Mack started to yawn.

“Tired Mackie?” Will chuckled at him, and Mack nodded sleepily, pushing hair out of his face, and squirming further down in the bed while hugging his shark, but keeping his eyes on the screen.

“It’s okay, you can rest, the movie’s almost over anyway, I doubt you’ll fall asleep by the time it ends.” Will said quietly, seriously underestimating Mack’s ability to fall asleep in under two minutes. Mack yawns again, exhaustion settling into his bones now that everything around him was quieter. Instinctively, he snuggled into the bed, and a little closer to Will.

Mack fell asleep quickly, curled tightly around his stuffed shark like he was holding onto something precious. Will heard his soft snores a minute later, and looked over in surprise. Silently, he admired Macklin, who looked absolutely perfect all curled up and sleepy in Will’s bed. Will had to resist the urge to pull him into his arms and hold him there.

With the movie finished, Will was left with a sleepy Macklin, who definitely wouldn’t wake up for anything. Not that Will would have woken him up anyway, he had already planned to carry him back to his room, and gently tuck him under his covers.

He did exactly that, and Mack barely stirred when Will lifted him, instinctively curling closer like he was seeking warmth.

Will adjusted Mack’s weight carefully in his arms the second he stood, tightening his hold just enough to keep him secure without jostling him too much. Mack was lighter than he should’ve been, or maybe Will had just expected him to feel heavier somehow. Either way, it made something uncomfortable twist in his stomach.

Mack made the smallest sound as Will shifted him, a sleepy little hum followed by a soft exhale against Will’s shirt, but he didn’t wake. He only tucked himself in closer on instinct, face pressing half into Will’s shoulder while his fingers tightened lazily around the stuffed shark trapped between them.

Jesus Christ.

Will glanced down at him and nearly had to laugh at how absurdly gone he already was over someone he’d met properly all of twelve hours ago.

Mack looked warm and limp with sleep, all soft edges now that the nervous tension had melted out of him. His hair was a mess from the pillows, falling into his face in uneven strands, and his mouth was slightly parted as he breathed. One of his bare legs had slipped out from under the blanket before Will picked him up, and the oversized hoodie he was wearing had ridden up enough to expose a strip of pale skin above the waistband of his boxers.

Normally, this kind of situation would be a green light for Will.

Someone warm in his arms.

Someone pliant for him.

Someone who was already comfortable with him.

…

Mack would look so good under him.

Too good.

The thought came fast and sharp before Will shoved it down immediately.

Because that wasn’t the point.

Not with Mack. Not yet at least.

Mack wasn’t careless with people.
He wasn’t casual about affection.
He didn’t flirt just to flirt.

Hell, Mack barely made eye contact half the time unless he trusted the person standing in front of him.

Everything about him was careful.

Earnest.

Too real.

And Will—

Well, it was undeniable that Will was a whore.

He’d spent the last three years being exactly the kind of guy people warned their younger siblings about.

Cycling through people like they were disposable.

Fucking his way right through freshman year.

But Mack was too pure for that.

Too good for that.

Will had to wait. He’d have to earn it.

He couldn’t scare Macklin away with something so stupid as his physical desires.

The hallway outside his room was dim, lit only by the low lamp at the end of the corridor and the faint spill of yellow from under Aiden’s still-empty door. Downstairs, the party was still going strong. The bass thudded through the floor in dull pulses, distant now, more like a second heartbeat than actual music. There were voices too—someone yelling, a burst of laughter, the slam of a door on the second floor—but up here, with Mack half asleep in his arms, it all felt far away.

Will moved slowly.

Not because Mack was heavy.
Just because he didn’t want to wake him.

His bedroom door clicked shut behind them, and Will crossed the short stretch of hallway toward Mack’s room with quiet, measured steps. He could feel Mack breathing against him the whole way, slow and even, and every few seconds Mack would shift in tiny unconscious motions, like his body was trying to burrow closer toward the warmth without fully waking up enough to realize what he was doing.

When Will reached Mack’s door, he paused.

He couldn’t open it one-handed without risking dropping something—or worse, waking Mack—so he shifted him slightly higher against his chest and tried the knob carefully.

Unlocked.

Will huffed the faintest breath through his nose.
Of course it was. Mack must’ve forgotten after Will came to get him.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside.

The room was dark except for the soft glow from the lamp beside the bed, which Mack must’ve left on before going to Will’s room. It cast everything in a warm yellow haze that made the space feel smaller somehow. Softer. Less like the sterile little room Mack had first walked into earlier and more like something lived in now.

Will stopped just inside the doorway and looked around without meaning to.

Mack had changed everything.

Not dramatically. It was still the same room, same bed, same desk, same walls. But now it felt like Mack in a way Will didn’t know how to explain. The desk had been organized so neatly it was almost ridiculous—pens lined up, notebooks stacked by size, laptop charger wrapped with exact precision. His backpack hung off the chair instead of being tossed somewhere. A few books had been lined up on the shelf, not just shoved there. His shoes were side by side by the bed, toes facing out like he’d positioned them on purpose.

Which he probably had.

Will’s eyes drifted to the nightstand.

There was a framed picture there now, one of Mack and Aiden when they were younger, both sunburnt and grinning like idiots. Next to it sat Mack’s phone, plugged in and charging, lined up perfectly with the edge of the table like that mattered too.

And suddenly Will got it.

Or at least, more of it.

Aiden had told him things, obviously. Told him Mack hated change. Told him he got overwhelmed easy, that he liked routines and quiet and knowing where everything was. Told him home had never really felt stable in the ways it should’ve, not with Rick being who he was and not with Mack always feeling like he had to earn softness instead of just being given it.

But standing in the middle of Mack’s room now, holding him asleep against his chest, Will could see all the little signs of it for himself.

The way everything had been arranged so precisely.
The way nothing was out of place.
The way Mack had clearly spent hours making this room feel safe enough to sleep in.

Like if he controlled every tiny thing, maybe the rest of the day couldn’t get to him as badly.

Will swallowed.

He looked back down at Mack, at the way he was still curled inward even in sleep, shark stuffed under one arm, face half-hidden against Will’s shoulder.

“Long day, huh?” Will whispered, the words so quiet they were almost nothing.

Mack stirred at the sound of his voice, not waking, just making a tiny sleepy noise and turning his face in closer. His lashes fluttered once against his cheeks.

Then, barely audible, he mumbled something.

Will frowned a little and tipped his head down, trying to catch it.

Mack’s voice came again, slurred and soft with sleep.
“Don’t— mm— m’not—”

He trailed off into nothing.

Will’s chest ached so suddenly it almost pissed him off.

He didn’t know what Mack had been trying to say. Maybe nothing coherent. Maybe just dream-talk. But something about the little crease between his brows, the way his hand had tightened briefly in the front of Will’s shirt, made it feel like even in sleep Mack was bracing for something. Holding on for something.

Will adjusted his grip again, gentler this time.

“You’re okay,” he murmured before he could stop himself. “Got you.”

Mack sighed.

Actually sighed.

The little line between his brows eased, and his body went loose in Will’s arms again like that was all he needed.

Will stared at him for a second too long.

He was so fucked.

Carefully, he carried Mack the rest of the way to the bed and bent to lower him onto the mattress as slowly as he could. He expected Mack to stir more this time, maybe wake halfway, maybe cling for a second in that disoriented sleepy way people sometimes did.

Instead, Mack only turned the second the mattress took his weight, hugging the stupid shark like it was the most important thing he owned.

Will stood there, one hand still hovering uselessly over him.

God.

Mack had pushed the covers down before he left earlier, so Will reached for them and pulled them softly back over him, making sure they covered his legs and tucked around his sides. Mack shifted once, burrowing deeper into the pillow. Something soft and blue peeked out from underneath it—a corner of some little blanket Mack had apparently hidden there.

And for some reason, that tiny detail got him the worst.

Because it was just so painfully Mack.
Careful and private and trying so hard not to let anybody see the things that comforted him.

Will looked around the room one last time, taking in all the evidence of how hard Mack had worked to make this place livable, how exhausted he must’ve been by the end of it, how much of today had probably scraped against every nerve he had.

The move.
His dad.
The frat house.
The strangers.
Dinner.
The party downstairs.
All of it.

No wonder he’d passed out in Will’s bed the second he felt safe enough to.

Something protective and fierce settled low in Will’s chest.

He didn’t have words for it, not really. He just knew that looking at Mack’s carefully arranged room, and then at Mack sleeping so deeply in the middle of it, made him understand something he hadn’t fully before:

Mack didn’t need grand gestures.

He needed consistency.

Softness.

Someone who paid attention.

Someone who made things easier instead of harder.

Someone who didn’t make him beg to be handled gently.

Will’s jaw tightened for half a second before he forced it to relax.

Then he reached down, stopping to admire the way Macklin snuggled into his bed. Will brushed a piece of hair back from Mack’s face, slow enough not to wake him, and Mack let out a soft sigh in response.

As he stood there in the quiet, with the party still raging somewhere below them and Macklin sleeping peacefully in the bed, for the first time all day, Will realized just how deep he already was into it, and there was no escape.

At least, not one that Will was planning on taking.

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