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Mike is looking at him again.
Will pretends not to notice, staring at the bartop and turning his glass around in the shallow puddle of condensation underneath it. It’s Friday, and the bar is loud and full of other college students. There’s no escaping the cigarette smoke.
He’s been thinking about tonight for weeks, but now that it’s actually here, he’s forgotten all the things he wanted to talk about with Mike. The feelings came rushing back immediately when he first saw Mike waiting for him under the bar’s awning earlier. He’s so on edge that he can’t speak, almost.
Mike doesn’t have that issue. He hasn’t even finished his first and only drink, but he’s been talking nonstop, excitedly, like he’s drunk.
“...and then he threw out his guitar pick. Some girl in the front caught it. Such a cool dude, my God.”
If Will didn’t know better, he’d think that Mike is trying to make him jealous, talking this way about the shitty guitarist of whatever shitty local band he’d seen perform at a different bar last weekend.
Will just needs a couple minutes to breathe, to be out from under Mike’s gaze. He’d forgotten how intensely Mike will just stare at him sometimes.
“I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back.”
“I’ll come, too. The line looks long– we can wait together.”
So much for time to compose himself. Mike downs the last bit of his beer and stands, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bar. Will follows him to the line in the hallway, weaving around the other bar patrons and tables and chairs throughout the room.
The single bathrooms are at the end of a hallway, and there’s not much room to stand. People stand chattering along the wall.
Will stands with his back against the wall, Mike facing him. Will stares ahead at the opposite wall of the hallway. It’s like he can feel Mike’s energy, his unique presence, radiating from his body.
The group in front of Mike in line seems collectively drunk, one person particularly so. They’re all laughing boisterously. The music plays loudly from the front of the bar, music that Will and Mike both happen to like.
Show me how you do it, and I promise you, I promise that I'll run away with you.
A couple, a guy and a girl, join the back of the line beside Will, and immediately start kissing. Passionately.
Will turns away from them, and, of course, is now facing Mike and is very close to him. Those few inches of height Mike has on Will seem much more prominent now.
Mike is staring down at him, telling him about the last column he wrote for the school newspaper (Will already knows all about it– it’s embarrassing, but he goes to the library to pull up every edition of the IUPUI newspaper’s website and read Mike’s column, dissecting his every word). Will can only nod in response, because Mike’s gaze has dropped twice. Eye contact, then somewhere lower, but then just as quickly back to eye contact.
Twice. Why is he counting? Mike has done this since forever, and it has never meant that he wants to–
“You’ve been quiet, Will. You okay?” Mike is doing that thing now– the other thing, the leaning-down-to-be-at Will’s-level thing. They’re face-to-face now, and Mike is so close.
Fuck. Will wants him. He wants him so badly. It hasn’t gone away, not in the months since he’s last seen Mike.
“‘Why are you so far away?’ she said. ’Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you?’”
Will swallows. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just–”
Mike is suddenly jostled forward by the really drunk guy beside him when he stumbles backwards while laughing, tossing a distracted apology over his shoulder at Mike.
Will instinctively flinches, putting his hands up as Mike falls forward into him and then catches himself.
“Sorry,” Mike breathes.
The toes of their shoes are practically touching, they’re standing so close. Will’s fingertips are resting against Mike’s chest, Mike is looking down into his eyes, and Will can’t help thinking that Mike's expression suggests that this was his plan all along. His eyes drop to Will’s mouth again.
Will forces himself to lower his arms to his sides and take the smallest step back. Mike blinks and doesn’t move.
“What were you saying?” Mike asks.
“Oh, nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” Will can tell that Mike doesn't believe him, but doesn't press it for the moment.
“I love this song,” Mike says, humming under his breath as the song ends. How can he act so casually at the flip of a switch?
You, lost and lonely. You, just like heaven.
The light in the hallway is dim and golden, casting shadows on Mike’s face. He looks so beautiful, so familiar. It’s been months, too long, since Will has gotten to see this face, and if he looks at Mike, it’s only fair because Mike has been staring all night.
They reach the front of the line. Will locks the bathroom door behind him and turns to the sink, leaning forward with his palms against the counter. He tries to breathe.
This isn’t a date. He keeps reminding himself. It’s Mike, and they’re grabbing drinks, because that’s what friends do for fun. Tell that to his nervous system, though; he hasn’t been this jittery on the actual dates he’s been on since moving to New York.
He messes with his hair in the mirror for a minute and makes sure he looks okay, then leaves the bathroom. Mike is back at the bar when Will makes his way back there.
“They just announced last call,” Mike tells him, and Will’s stomach drops.
Despite his nervousness, he’d be content to just sit here in this noisy bar with Mike for the rest of his life. He’s just working up the courage to ask if Mike is free tomorrow when–
“You wanna get out of here?” Mike says, fidgeting with his hands under the bar. “You haven’t, um, seen my dorm yet.”
Will freezes. This isn’t part of the plan laid out when Will called to let Mike he was coming back to Indiana for fall break. Will is supposed to be getting a cab back to his hotel room on the outskirts of Indianapolis.
Be cool.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.”
The city air smells clean after the hazy, smoke-filled air in the bar. It’s an unseasonably warm night, and the sidewalks are crowded with people.
Will follows Mike through the streets as cars rush by. Mike reaches into his pocket, not for another cigarette, but for a pack of gum. He offers a piece to Will, who declines. He’s never liked cinnamon gum.
It feels like his heartbeat is getting faster with every city block, and his skin is buzzing with anticipation, misguided or not.
Mike is asking him questions about New York, wanting to know about everything from The Met (amazing) to the subway rats (scary).
“Are you… seeing anyone?” Mike asks abruptly as they pass a neon-sign covered storefront, the colored light briefly spilling onto his face and reflecting in his eyes.
Will feels a rush of adrenaline. “Oh, um, no. I’m not,” he answers honestly. He forces himself to be brave, to return the question and ask, “Are you?”
Mike shakes his head. “No.”
The adrenaline turns to relief spreading through Will. He takes a deep breath. “Why do you ask?”
Mike looks over at Will, and, if he’s not mistaken, a bit of a red flush tinges Mike’s cheeks at the question.
“Just… wondering,” Mike says quietly, his gaze searching Will’s, and when a large group of people approach them on the sidewalk, his hand brushes against Will’s as they momentarily move closer together to let them pass.
Will feels that brush of Mike’s skin on the back of his hand the rest of the way to the dorm building. Mike is suddenly quiet for the first time all night, and Will follows suit.
Mike unlocks his door and turns the lamp on in his room. Will looks at the posters on the wall in Mike’s half of the room and the piles of paper on his desk. Mike really has that painting hanging up in here?
“This is it. Good enough, I guess,” Mike says, standing beside him, his hands in his pockets. “My roommate’s out of town for the break.”
“It’s nice,” Will says uncertainly. My roommate’s out of town keeps echoing in his head.
There’s a party happening somewhere a few floors below, the muffled music faintly audible in the room. Will waits, his heart pounding in his chest. Is it going to happen?
Finally, Mike turns to Will, coming close, his gaze boring into Will’s again. “Will, I…” he trails off, like he can’t figure out how to say what he wants to.
“Why am I here, Mike?” Will asks softly after a pause. He’d kiss him right now, if he knew that’s what Mike wanted.
Mike is standing right in front of Will, as closely as the moment he got pushed into Will at the bar. He’s leaning in, slowly, and the space between their lips is steadily diminishing until Will’s sure he’s going to kiss him, but it doesn’t happen. The way Mike is looking into Will’s face conveys affection, and something stronger.
It’s not what Will expected from tonight, but then he thinks about all the stolen glances and taps of Mike’s shoe against Will’s that he has mentally tallied up for the past several years but chalked up to just Mike being Mike. He guesses that he shouldn’t be all that surprised that this is happening, even after all this time. Mike has always done things on his own time, and speaking up must be no different.
Mike’s voice is low when he finally says it. “I really want to kiss you.”
Will’s breath catches. They might as well be kissing already, their mouths are so close. Will can feel Mike’s exhaled breaths, warm on his own lips and smelling like artificial cinnamon.
Will feels like his whole body is alight with anticipation, nerves, want. Just the smallest thread of fear, of uncertainty, is the only thing holding him back from Mike, and Mike from him.
“I need you to tell me something first,” Will says, and it comes out as a whisper.
Mike nods distractedly, his lips parted as he stares down at Will’s. His expression is almost enough to undo Will. “Anything.”
“Is this real, Mike?” Will breathes. “Not, like, ‘am I dreaming’ real. Real as in, do you mean this?”
He feels Mike’s fingertips come to rest on his upper arms, and it’s like sparks hitting his skin.
“Will… yes. Yes. You don’t ever need to question that.” Mike is leaning down again, lowering his shoulders, making himself smaller to be at Will’s height.
Will forces himself to keep his eyes on Mike’s. “I just don’t think I can do this if you don’t mean it,” he says. “Not with you.” It’s the truth. Mike means too much to him for this to just be Mike’s fun, secret, “not gay, just messing around because it’s college and I’m exploring” affair.
“I mean it,” Mike says with finality, and Will knows he’s telling the truth.
Will doesn’t know where it comes from, because he doesn’t usually talk like this, but he whispers, “Show me.”
Mike is all over him in an instant, meeting Will’s lips with his in an impatient, breathless way. His hands slide over Will’s back, somehow pulling him even closer.
Will feels like he might drop dead right here.
Mike isn’t going slow, or making this a sweet, gentle first kiss. He’s already tracing Will’s bottom lip with his tongue, Will’s shirt caught in his curling fingertips. It’s perfect.
Will finds himself trying to lean in more, but there’s no room left between them. His fingers tangle in Mike’s hair as he returns the kiss. It turns out that he doesn’t mind the taste of cinnamon gum if it’s being pressed from Mike Wheeler’s mouth onto his.
Will lets his mouth fall open, and Mike groans in response.
Will’s made out with guys; tall, dark-haired boys from the bar and from his classes who were nice, and handsome, and, usually, really boring.
Doing this with Mike is different. It’s like all these years of pent-up feelings for Mike are being let out now. He’s saying all the things he’s wanted to for so long with the way his fingers tighten in Mike’s curls and how he catches Mike’s bottom lip between both of his, and he thinks that Mike is doing the same; two fire signs, breathing each other’s air, trying to tell the other how much they need them.
Will opens his eyes a little. Mike seems like he’s in another world, his dark lashes fluttering a little as he tilts his head slightly more and moves his hands slightly lower.
Then Mike pulls back, just a tiny fraction. He’s breathing heavily, and his lips are red. Will's probably look the same.
“Stay,” he whispers against the corner of Will’s mouth.
Will isn’t sure if he heard correctly. “Hm?”
“Don’t go back to the hotel. Stay here. Please.”
I’d stay forever if you’d let me, Will thinks. I might have to, after this.
“Please, Will.”
Will nods and leans in again, Mike's lips warm against his. He knows what he wants next, has a vision of them stumbling over to the bed, trailing their clothes on the floor, and hopes that Mike’s invitation to stay means that it’s going to happen.
It’s the most alive he’s ever felt, and Mike’s racing heart under his palms tells him that he just might feel the same.