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Mike sighs in frustration as he checks his watch again, tapping a finger against the side of his drink and bouncing his knee anxiously. His date was supposed to be here half an hour ago. He glances at the door again. He’s probably just not coming, he thinks.
Mike usually hates blind dates, but Max was so determined to help him “get out there” (whatever that’s supposed to mean) that he couldn’t say no. The guy that Max set him up with was named Garrett and he apparently works in a huge warehouse and does a lot of heavy lifting and stuff.
Now that Mike thinks about it, he didn’t really even want to go on this date. He flags down the bartender and slaps some cash on the counter, standing up and shrugging his jacket on in one fluid motion.
The frigid February air shocks him and he nearly gasps when it meets his face and exposed neck, sending a shiver through his body. Soft white flakes are still falling from the sky, continuing to blanket the city in a thick layer of ice.
He lets out a pathetically drawn out sigh, watching his breath turn to condensation before his eyes as he starts his trek back to his apartment. He takes out his phone to find a few notifications; a relatively encouraging (very aggressive) text from Max, a text from Lucas that’s basically the same as what Max said but much nicer, several Snapchat messages from Holly (She should not have Snapchat, but he knows their mother literally could not care less, so), but instead of looking at them he goes straight to Instagram to look at--
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” a painfully familiar voice says as Mike slips on the ice and falls on his ass, narrowly avoiding dropping his phone from the impact of running into another human being. He feels his cheeks heat up as he looks up to see the very person he had been just about to Instagram stalk.
“Oh, hi,” Will breathes, expression going carefully blank and unreadable.
Shit, Mike thinks. Apparently his brain to mouth connection broke sometime during his fall because he can’t seem to form a response, instead opting to stare at his ex boyfriend with wide eyes while opening and closing his mouth like a fish.
“Hi?” Will tries again, the end of the word lilting up like a question. He folds his arms like a defense and looks around nervously.
“Uh- hi,” Mike chokes out, ripping his gaze away from Will and scrambling to his feet. “I- uh. Sorry. Um. Yeah-- sorry. What-- what? What. Are you, uh. Doing here.”
Will smirks, his defensive posture relaxing into something more teasing, eyebrow quirking up and shoulders falling away from where they were nearly touching his ears. “Like in New York? I live here, Mike,” He says, visibly holding in a laugh at Mike’s flustered state. “What’s up?” he attempts, before visibly cringing at his own words. He tries to disguise it as shifting his stance, but Mike has always been able to see right through him.
“I was-- well. I was supposed to be on a date,” he mumbles pathetically, cheeks reddening as he remembers who he’s talking to.
“What do you mean, supposed to,” Will goads. Mike knows Will knows exactly what he means but Will’s a little shit sometimes. Mike is still as endeared by it as when they actually dated, though (he would never ever admit this information out loud to anyone ever in his life) so he lets him get away with it.
“He didn’t show,” Mike nearly winces at how pitiful he sounds.
Will frowns. “Why?”
“I-- well-- I don’t know,” Mike sputters. “He probably saw me and left.” He takes his turn to cross his arms, not quite missing the way Will’s frown deepens and he opens his mouth to say something, probably in response to Mike’s self-deprecating comment because Will is just good like that. “What are you doing?” Mike adds before Will can get a word out.
Will flushes and averts his gaze away from Mike’s eyes, instead focusing on his dirty yellow converse, pale from use, one of which is toing at the ground right now. “Same as you, actually.”
“Someone bailed on you?” Mike blurts without thinking. Will’s flush deepens but he frowns again.
“Apparently,” he grumbles.
Mike doesn’t know what to say so they both fall silent. The awkwardness is almost tangible. “Uh- sorry,” he manages after a few excruciating seconds.
“It’s fine. Honestly I didn’t really even want to go out anyway. It was a blind date my sister set up for me.”
“El, right?” Mike says like he doesn’t know. Like they didn’t date for almost a whole year.
Will looks up at Mike, scanning his face carefully. “Yeah.” The you remembered? that disguises a you still care? remains unsaid. Mike gives him a small smile (of course I remembered. Of course I still care, he’s saying) which Will returns bashfully. Will looks away first, successfully shattering the comfortable moment they were having, cheeks pink. Mike shakes himself, clearing his throat and shuffling his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. God, what is wrong with him?
“So, uh. Where’re you off to now?” Mike physically restrains his body from cringing at himself. What is he doing.
Will shrugs, looking back down at his feet. “I dunno. Honestly, I was probably just gonna go home and mope.”
“Well that’s no way to spend Valentine’s Day,” Mike says, again without thinking. Will raises his eyebrows. Eh, fuck it. “Uh- yeah. You could um. We could-- Do you want to--”
“Sure, Mike,” Will laughs, putting him out of his misery. Mike lets out a loud sigh of relief like the drama queen he knows he is. “Do you have something in mind?”
“I-- well. No. Not really,” Mike rubs the back of his neck again. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
Will laughs again, a sweet, golden sound that Mike has missed like the sun on a gloomy day and he wishes he could trap it in a bottle and listen to it for the rest of time. He is so gone for this boy. Why did they break up again? “Yeah, I kinda figured. Do you want to get a coffee?” he adds over Mike’s indignant sputtering. Mike promptly short-circuits. Again. Will Byers, just asked him out. Technically. Kind of. It's fine.
He snaps himself out of it and wrinkles his nose. “Coffee? That’s like the most basic Valentine’s Day-- thing I’ve ever heard. I thought you were at least a little more creative than that, Byers.” He recovers as quickly as he can from almost saying date but tacks on Will’s last name to make the quip sound more casual, folding his arms again and raising one eyebrow.
“Do you have any better ideas, Wheeler,” Will shoots back, unperturbed by Mike’s strangeness and mirroring his attempt at nonchalant body language. Mike thinks he’s doing a very good job at not losing his fucking mind. Although, while participating in said task, he has forgotten to respond to his boy-- ex-boyfriend. Will quirks an eyebrow, an amused smirk taking over his face.
“Uh,” Mike starts eloquently, scraping the bottom of the barrel for some remaining shreds of his dignity and coming away empty handed. Eh, whatever. Will has already seen him at his most indignant, and he hasn’t started running for the hills yet so Mike can’t really bring himself to care all that much.
Will laughs at Mike’s floundering. “So coffee it is. Come on, that coffeehouse you like is a couple blocks away, right?” He shoots Mike a soft smile almost saying, I remember things about you too, you know. I still care too. Mike feels his face heat up again.
“Oh, um. Yeah. Yeah it is.”
“Cool,” Will’s smile widens, turning into a grin now. “You know, I was just on my way,” he adds in a flirtatious tone that nearly makes Mike swoon and steps closer to lightly push Mike’s shoulder. Liar, Mike thinks but the thought is dripping in fondness, running down the sides of his brain, sweet and slow like the honey Will likes in his tea. “Would you like to join me?”
YES, YES, YES, is the resounding chant repeating in Mike’s inner monologue. He has to play it cool though. Desperate isn’t the most attractive thing he could be right now, especially if he’s trying to get Will Byers back. “Sure,” he says, although his voice shakes slightly but only because his throat is constricted with the urge to scream from excitement. He might be getting his favorite person back.
Will’s answering grin is contagious and now they probably look like idiots, just standing in the middle of the sidewalk and gawking at each other. This time Mike looks away first, clearing his throat. “Let’s go, we're burning daylight.” Will huffs out a laugh, jogging a few steps to catch up to Mike, who nearly shoves past him to start their journey to the coffeehouse.
💙💛
The bell above the door tinkles to announce their arrival. “Really, his name was James?” Mike is saying. They decided to tell each other about their failed blind dates, simply for shit-talking purposes. “That is incredibly basic.”
“‘Mike’ isn’t much more unique. Plus, ‘James’ is literally your middle name,” Will giggles.
“Okay, yeah, sure, but I make it work.” He pauses to stomp the snow off his shoes onto the rug adorned with the coffeehouse’s logo. Mike really does like this place. Lots of pride flags all over and the back half is a record shop. The soft indie music that spills out of the speakers everywhere reminds him of Will’s music taste-- Which is completely unrelated to why he likes coming here. It’s just an observation.
(It’s not just an observation. Mike is so whipped for Will it’s not even funny and since going to a place that reminds him of Will is what it takes to remember a time when they were an item, he absolutely does it.)
“It’s warm in here,” Will says, a shiver racking through his body from the leftover cold that’s surely sticking to him. He rubs his hands up and down his arms. Mike nods in agreement before shaking snowflakes out of his hair out like a dog. “Mike!” Will giggles. “You just got water all over me.”
“It’s not all over you, you’re so dramatic,” Mike groans but he’s grinning so affectionately at Will that his cheeks are starting to hurt. Surely he hasn’t smiled this much since they broke up. But that’s not a productive thought to be having. Will broke up with him. That was that, case closed, goodbye, the end. This is just a little… outing. As friends. It is not a date no matter how much Mike wants it to be. He can handle just friends. Probably.
Will makes a little squeaking sound. “What?” Mike looks up at him, concerned initially but completely relaxes when he sees the excitement on Will’s face. “What?” he asks again, his smile melting into his tone.
“I love this song,” Will claps his hands happily. God, Mike is about to explode.
But once upon a time… we were in love…
Will hums along under his breath. When they dated he did this all the time. Mike’s not sure if he knows anyone can hear him. But Mike always could.
Yeah, Mike’s gonna lose his mind.
It’s honestly a skill, Mike thinks, that he should seriously consider putting on his resume, all this not losing his mind and not exploding and not melting to the floor in a puddle from the pure adorableness of Will Byers.
Mike rips his eyes away from Will, his face surely a deep, deep shade of crimson. “Let’s, uh, let's go. Get in line. For-- for coffee.” Mike chances a glance at Will who is smirking at Mike’s flustered sputtering. Mike barely refrains from grabbing Will’s hand, arm jerking but he plays it off as a shiver as he stalks off to the counter.
Will sways in time with the music as he orders-- a vanilla latte that Mike already knows he is going to add an ungodly amount of sugar to because it’s Will-- and Mike can only stare. At the way the strings of fairy lights above the counter make his face glow. At the curve of his nose. At the slope of his cupid’s bow. At the birthmark above his lip that Mike often kissed when they were dating. He is everything and nothing like Mike remembers.
Mike orders a cold brew with a shocking amount of eloquence. Will scrunches his nose at Mike’s drink of choice like he always used to when Mike would bring drinks to their study sessions at the campus library where they attended college together.
“Really Mike? An iced coffee?” Will says when they find a table to sit down at and wow this really feels like a date. “You do know it’s snowing outside, right?”
“What can I say,” Mike grunts, flopping onto the chair across from Will. “I’m a complicated guy.”
“Yeah, I’ll say. Who drinks black coffee,” Will scoffs as he predictably snatches a few packets of sugar from the basket in the middle of their table.
“You are literally adding more sugar to an already sweetened drink. You cannot bash my drink of choice when you are giving yourself diabetes as we speak.”
“Shhh.” Will doesn’t even look up from his sugar packets as he shushes Mike. All Mike can do is laugh. He doesn’t think Will knows how effortlessly funny he is sometimes. Or maybe he's not actually that funny and Mike is just… has lingering feelings. That make him act like a goddamn schoolgirl. Whatever.
They sit in comfortable silence while Will stirs in his too much sugar. Mike checks his phone. A new text from Max.
respond dipshit i know you read my message
Always a charmer, that one.
he didnt show up
oh shit sorry
its fine
guess who i ran into
who
will
An incoming call pops up at the top of the screen.
dont call me dumbass
im literally with him right now
oh my fucking god
if youre with him why the hell are you texting me
And Mike is a little shit so he sends her a screenshot of her own message demanding him to respond.
not valid go get yo man
hes not mine
yeah? where are you right now
coffee but its not a date
he was actually going on a blind date as well but his date also ditched him
we were in the same boat so we just decided to get coffee
mike that is literally a date
okay stop texting me go! get! yo! man!
Mike wants to send another message to clarify that Will is still not ‘his man’ but decides at the last second that Max is right (he would never tell her this. Not ever in his life.) and he probably should be talking to Will instead of arguing with her about the nature of their relationship.
"What about your date?" Will asks, as Mike slips his phone back into his pants pocket.
"Hmm?"
"Your date," Will repeats, looking up at him through his long lashes. "It's your turn to tell me about him."
Mike wrinkles his nose. “His name was Garrett.”
Will laughs, sharp and short. “Garrett? That’s a really douchey name.”
“I know that’s what I said!” Mike throws out his hands in a see? gesture that the person he wants to see will not see. (That person being Max. See, Max? Will agrees with me, he would say if she were here.) “Max was like, ‘oh come on just give him a chance’. He’s like a bodybuilder or something.”
“What did I say, douchey.” Will sips his coffee and somehow doesn’t even react to the million packets of artificial sugar he added to it.
“Genuinely, how do you tolerate that,” Mike asks flatly. Will just laughs. “No I am being so serious, Will. That is a lot of fucking sugar.” He’s still smiling from ear to ear, so Will probably doesn’t believe that he’s being serious but whatever.
“It’s better than how you take yours,” Will giggles. “Yours is always so bitter.”
“Guess we complement each other pretty well, huh?” Mike says without thinking. Will freezes, eyes widening slightly. Mike shakes himself and clears his throat when he realizes what he said. “I mean-- shit. Sorry,” he adds sheepishly, face heating up.
“It’s okay,” Will says impressively calmly, his own cheeks colored by a light dusting of pink. It’s very pretty, in Mike’s opinion. He wants to press his hands against Will’s cheeks. Will sips his coffee, hiding the lower part of his face behind the cup. “Um, so what have you been up to?” he asks after a few moments of excruciating silence and Mike’s muscles relax. He hadn’t even realized he was tensed up.
“Oh, uh. Not much,” Mike huffs out a breath that could be a laugh if he tried harder. “I’m just as boring as I used to be. Not much has changed since we-- you know.” he gestures between them vaguely.
“Boring?” Will says incredulously like he is genuinely confused as to why Mike would say that and completely skating by the kind-of-mention of them dating. “You are a lot of things, Mike, but boring is not one of them.”
This makes Mike blush again but he’s not sure why. All Will did was say he wasn’t boring. Which, in reality, is pretty much the most bare minimum, bottom of the barrel, not-really-a-compliment compliment Mike has ever recieved, second only to the time when Max told him he’s not that bad of a person, Mike.
“Uh. Thanks?” he tries, trying not to wince at his own awkwardness. God, this used to be so easy. Talking with Will, that is. There’s no reason for talking with Will-- who is still Mike’s favorite person despite not talking to him for a little over a year now-- to be so difficult. Jesus, just be normal, Michael.
“You’re welcome,” Will takes another sip of coffee. “So, what have you actually been up to? I know you said not much has changed but that means at least something has changed. So tell me about it.” He leaves no room for argument. Mike is obsessed with him.
“Um. Well I guess I’ve been working on, um. A book,” he says, without looking at Will, focusing on his fidgety hands like he’s ashamed, which he’s really not. He doesn’t know why it’s embarrassing to tell Will, who already knows he writes because they went to college together where Mike was, you know, an English major, that he is writing a book.
“See, that’s fucking cool, Mike,” Will brightens at Mike’s admission. “What’s it about?”
“Oh, you know, like. Kids fighting monsters and stuff,” he gestures vaguely with one hand and keeping the other firmly trapped under his thigh so he can’t do something stupid like reach for Will or something else equally as idiotic.
“What kind of monsters?” Mike chances a glance at Will’s face and finds that he is giving Mike his full attention, staring at him with something like awe hiding in his eyes.
“Different-- Different kinds of monsters. And I’m planning on it being a series, so like each book there’s a new monster.”
“But what kinds of monsters,” He says it like a statement instead of a question. “Like vampires and witches?”
“Oh, no, no, no. I based them off of. Um. O-off of.” Mike blushes, embarrassed. “DnD monsters,” he trails off, tracing a circle on the table next to his cup.
“Oh that’s actually really cool,” Will sounds genuine but Mike doesn’t want to risk him seeing the blotchy, scarlet flush coloring his cheeks so he doesn’t look up.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” A pause. “I would read that.”
At this, Mike does look up and finds Will regarding him with a look of-- adoration? Endearment? Mike’s not really sure but those can’t be right, can they?
“Maybe I’d let you,” which is Mike’s pitiful attempt at flirting with his ex while he himself is already flustered by said ex. The pretty pink blush on Will’s cheeks darkens and spreads to the tips of his ears, staining them red.
“May-maybe you should.” Maybe Mike shouldn’t be relishing in Will’s verbal stumble as much as he is, but he is a disaster and still somehow managed to make Will do that so he probably is allowed.
“Maybe I should,” Mike agrees. He takes a deep breath as subtly as he can manage, gathering the remains of his courage. “What do you say to taking a visit to my apartment after this?”
Will hums and taps on his chin like he’s pretending to think about it. As if Mike can’t see the extremely incriminating redness creeping its way down his neck and disappearing under the collar of his shirt. His ability to mostly keep his composure like this far outweighs Mike’s own half-an-ablility to not lose his fucking mind. “I’d have to move some stuff around but, yeah. I think I could make that work,” He grins at Mike stupidly and takes a drink of his diabetes in a cup.
“Liar,” but he’s smiling so wide it almost hurts again. “You don’t have shit to do today.”
“Dammit, you caught me,” Will says sarcastically, raising his hands in surrender, eyes sparkling.
“Cool,” Mike says, a probably dopey looking smile stretching over his lips. “It’s a date,” He adds after a second, more like a question than a flirty statement. Will blushes again.
“Yeah,” he says shyly. “I guess it is.”
💛💙
Mike is pretty sure his apartment looks the exact same as it did a little over a year ago, minus a few posters on the walls and also the fact that it looks like a bomb went off with how fucking messy it is.
“Sorry about the mess,” he says sheepishly, toeing off his shoes and shaking out his hair again.
“It’s not that messy. But I can tell you’re an author,” Will responds with a smile, gesturing at the books and notebooks everywhere. Mike smiles, warmth filling his whole body.
“I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be an insult or a compliment,” he murmurs, walking past Will to flick the light on.
“It was a compliment,” Will says. "I like it here," he whispers after a moment. Mike frowns.
“You okay--” Mike starts to ask but cuts off when he turns around, right into-- the lightest kiss anyone has ever initiated ever. He inhales sharply, whole body tensing.
His eyes flutter shut on their own accord and something else flutters in his abdomen, something that feels close to a butterfly migration. Warmth floods him from head to toe, which is honestly embarrassing because this is barely a kiss; Will’s lips are only ghosting over Mike’s and they’re not even holding each other. And yet Mike’s breath has been completely sucked away.
Will pulls away after a few seconds, face colored red, scanning Mike’s face for any reaction but Mike is still frozen, mouth slightly open and trying to process what just happened. An anxious look takes over Will’s face and he takes a step back, seemingly realizing what he just did. “Shit, Mike I-- I should have asked I’m so--”
“Wait. Shut up,” Mike says, voice pitched low, low, low and steps forward, grabbing the sides of Will’s face and yanking him close until their lips collide. Will gasps and Mike catches it in his own mouth, already deepening the kiss. Will’s gasp turns into a sigh and he instantly kisses back with just as much fervor, hands flying to Mike’s elbows to steady himself as Mike pushes him backward through the archway that leads into the hall.
Will stumbles, nearly bringing both of them to the floor but thankfully regains his balance and pushes back against Mike and his desperation, sliding his tongue along Mike’s bottom lip, asking for permission as if it wasn’t exactly what Mike has wanted all damn day. An unbidden noise makes its way up Mike’s throat and he nearly goes weak at the knees as Will licks over his teeth and brushes their tongues together.
Mike is still holding Will’s face firmly in his hands like he’s afraid Will might disappear if he lets go but Will’s hands are little explorers, running up and down Mike’s arms and back, and then fumbling with the buttons on Mike’s coat, which-- yeah Mike also wants to get it off as fast as possible. He lets go of Will’s face for a teeny second, not breaking the kiss, and helps Will’s shaking fingers undo the tricky buttons. He shucks off his sleeves and tosses the coat somewhere, he’s not sure where, before reaching out to basically rip Will’s coat off as well, immediately shoving his hands up Will’s shirt to hold his sides as soon as the coat gets thrown to the floor. Will makes an appreciative noise and pushes forward into Mike.
They’re like the tide, Mike remembers, as he feels it again, the ebb and flow. They push and pull each other at all the right times until they’re kind of spinning in slow, steady circles, completely their own planet, rotating on their own axis as they try not to run into anything and fail miraculously. Mike’s back hits the wall but he pushes off and steps forward until Will hits something and lets out a squeak, hands scrambling to catch himself on Mike. Mike would never let anything happen to him. Of course he doesn’t hit the floor.
Logically Mike knows they shouldn’t be doing this. They haven’t dated in a little over a year. Will broke up with him. Mike stupidly agreed to his decision. But they’re kissing-- they’re kissing-- now and it feels too good to stop, so obviously, they don’t.
Actually making out might be a better term.
“Mike,” Will huffs, and Mike’s not sure if he was going anywhere with it or not but his name sounds so good in Will’s mouth that he just has to shut him right up and show him how much he likes it by biting down hard on Will’s bottom lip. Will groans softly and pulls back slightly. “Mike,” he tries again.
“Hmm,” Mike hums, dragging open-mouthed kisses across Will’s jaw and down his neck, leaving a trail of saliva down to his collarbone. Will shivers and holds Mike in place by the nape of his neck, gasping slightly.
“We should--” he tilts Mike’s face up and presses their lips together. “--talk.”
Mike hums again, an agreement, leaning in to smack another kiss onto Will’s mouth before pulling away just far enough to take in the view in front of him: Will, chasing the kiss for a moment before apparently thinking better of it, pupils blown when his eyes flutter open and lips kissed-red, shiny with spit-- Mike’s spit-- and swollen. He’s beautiful.
Mike just can’t help it when he swoops in for another kiss. Will kisses back, of course, but pushes him away after a few seconds and holds him there with a firm hand on Mike’s chest. “Mike,” he reiterates. “We need to talk.”
“You started it,” Mike grumbles, taking a step back and attempting to smooth out the new wrinkles in his shirt and fix his overall unkempt appearance, unfortunately unsuccessfully. Will huffs out a laugh.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Mike looks up with a frown on his face to see a very sheepish looking Will Byers. “I should’ve asked,” he adds before Mike can berate him for apologizing again.
“I kissed back, you know. Did you miss that part?” Mike asks, one corner of his mouth tugging up. He folds his arms and pops his hip out in a very Steve Harrington stance. He should stop hanging around Robin so much, he thinks vaguely; Steve is always there as well and his mannerisms seem to be sticking to Mike.
“I still should have asked.” A closed-lipped smile spreads across Will’s face and a slight blush dusts over his cheeks and nose. “Now things could get complicated,” he says teasingly. Will pushes Mike’s shoulder gently, a mirror of the banter from when they first bumped into each other earlier in the day, but Mike can tell he’s also being serious.
“Okay, then let’s talk about it,” Mike replies, taking Will’s hand and pulling him to sit on the couch, thighs pressed together and hands still entwined.
“That’s what I said, dork,” Will giggles, but goes easily, looking up at Mike expectantly, face turning serious as though he senses that Mike has something to say.
“Um,” Mike starts, averting his eyes from Will’s steadfast gaze. He knows what he wants to say but when Will is looking into his eyes so unwaveringly, his thoughts become half-finished and blurry. Mike guesses that’s just the Will Byers Effect. “What-- What is this, exactly?” He gestures between them. “Like is this going to-- to be anything or is it just--” he cuts off, not wanting to finish the sentence because the pain of it is starting to set in. If it really is just a hook-up he’s going to lose Will again.
“I--” Will attempts, pausing to gather his thoughts. He considers for a moment, chewing on his lip anxiously. It is, unfortunately, very distracting and Mike has to look away again. “I’m sorry.”
Mike’s stomach drops. Sorry for what? Will notices his slight panic and jumps in, placing a steady hand on Mike’s leg. “Not like-- not like that. I just-- I have so much to say to you. I hate how we left things and I want to make it better because I really miss having you in my life. I guess I’m sorry that we broke up.”
Mike frowns. “It wasn’t your fault.” It kind of was. But Mike has gotten used to rejection and realized, maybe Will was right for leaving him, even if the thought was devastating to acknowledge.
“That’s neither here nor there,” he sighs, not annoyed, but possibly sad, and runs a hand through Mike’s curls. Mike would make fun of literally anyone else for using such a smart phrase but it’s just so Will that instead he kind of wants to kiss him silly. Also there’s the fact that Will’s hand is in Mike’s hair right now. “I’m the one who said it.”
“Yeah but there must have been a reason,” Mike points out. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have wanted to. Something I did made you want to leave.” This conversation is starting to get a little too feely for Mike’s childish emotional age. He can feel the lump growing in his throat.
“Mike, I didn’t want to leave.”
Mike looks up to study Will’s face, quite confused. His eyes are glazing over with tears and Mike worries that the hazel of them might turn to watercolors and spill down his cheeks in streaks of green and honey brown. “Um. What?” he croaks around the knot his tonsils seem to be tying themselves into.
“I didn’t want to leave. I had to go back home, but I didn’t think you wanted to break up.” Mike opens his mouth to object because he absolutely did not want to break up-- “So, I suggested it because not everyone can handle long distance and you went along with it. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
Mike feels his heart beginning to strain against the fraying string that’s been holding it together, beating against his ribs, begging to finally be loose from its bonds and reveal itself in a disastrous display of love and affection for this beautiful boy on the verge of tears in front of him. He tugs Will even closer to his chest and firmly wraps his arms around Will’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, not able to think of anything better to say. Will shakes his head, sniffling softly. He pulls back.
“Don’t be sorry,” he replies easily, albeit kind of watery. He gives Mike a sad smile. “I- I mean like, I’ve gone over the conversation in my head a million times. The way I said it… there was no way for you to know what I meant unless I had specified.”
“Why didn’t you?” Mike asks, as quietly as he can while still making noise for fear of his voice breaking. This got really emotional. Mike doesn't know how to feel.
"I didn't think you wanted me to." Will reaches out and swipes his thumb under Mike's eye where tears have started to pool, trying to escape the confinement of his waterline. "You agreed pretty quickly."
"I'm--"
"Don't say sorry," Will warns, placing a gentle finger on Mike's lips, successfully killing every apologetic word that was about to spill from his mouth.
"I am though," Mike says, lips moving against Will's finger. He wants to kiss it so he does.
"It wasn't your fault, okay? I promise." And Will is giving him the saddest, shiniest baby cow eyes Mike has ever seen so who would Mike be to not believe him? He must still look a little apprehensive however, because Will reiterates, "It wasn't. Your. Fault. I need you to know that."
"I--" I do is what he wants to say, but that isn't the truth. He still feels the guilt of losing Will the first time like it’s a physical thing. "I'm trying," he settles on, trying to swipe his arm over his face in the least noticeable way possible, inevitably failing in the trying-not-to-let-Will-see part of it. Will cups Mike’s face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over Mike’s cheekbones.
“I know you are.” He leans in to press a soft kiss to Mike’s forehead. “And I am very proud of you.”
A tear slips down Mike’s face when he squeezes his eyes shut. It’s been… a while since someone has said that to him. That they are proud of him. And the underlying messages as well. Your effort is enough, you are enough, you deserve to be loved no matter what. A few more tears make their way to gather at Mike’s nose and chin.
Yeah, it’s been a good long while since anyone has said those words.
Will pulls him into a somehow simultaneously firm and gentle hug. “Would--” Mike starts, sniffling softly. He bites his lip for a moment, trying to think of the exact right order he wants his words to be in. “Would you be up for it? Trying again?”
Will pulls away but keeps a steady hold on Mike’s upper arms. It’s very distracting. A look crosses his face like he wants to ask a question but doesn’t quite know how to articulate it or like he wants to ask Mike to elaborate but doesn’t want to break the moment.
“Would you be up for trying to um. Be us again? And not just a-- a one time thing?” Mike looks away from Will’s eyes when he says the words, twisting his shirt anxiously in his fingers, almost scared of Will’s response that he has yet to give. Please don’t let it be a fling, please don’t let it be a fling, please don’t let it be a fling--
Will gently takes Mike’s twisting, shaking hands in his own. Don’t do that it hurts your skin, he used to say when Mike did this exact thing, an anxious habit that started when he was a little kid and has never been able to shake. “I-- are you-- is that okay with you?” Will asks, hastily but hesitantly, a strange oxymoron, but it feels right.
Mike kisses him. It’s instantly different from the first kiss, soft and patient, like they have time as opposed to the frantic, flaming heat of the first kiss, although passionate all the same. The passion is still there, just different, expressed in the gentle way Will is skating his fingers over Mike’s jaw, in the way Mike holds Will’s waist, not to keep him in place out of fear of him pulling away, but just for the sake of touching him. It’s expressed in the tender movement of lips on lips, slightly open-mouthed. It’s expressed in the soft sounds falling out of both of their mouths and the way Mike takes Will’s free hand in his own and squeezes it once, twice, thrice.
Will pulls away, but only barely, noses almost brushing. They both seem to be frozen, brains still trying to catch up and realize that this is really, truly happening. Mike’s not even breathing, terrified of shattering the moment.
“Can I take that as a yes?” Will whispers hesitantly, nudging their foreheads together like he can’t help it. Mike takes a deep breath. He nods, slowly at first, and then faster and faster as the elation of what they just said sets in, a huge grin spreading across his face as he tackles Will backward onto the couch in a flurry of giggles and kisses pressed against every inch of skin Mike can reach.
“Yes-- yes-- yes-- yes,” Mike murmurs between kisses. Will giggles again, a sound like summer that could keep Mike warm forever, probably, and grabs Mike’s chin to tilt his face up in an angle that works for lips colliding.
“Well then--” Will says against Mike’s lips. “What should-- we do now?”
Mike pulls away to look into his hazel eyes, brimming with tears again, underlined with slight shadows that never quite go away because of his insomnia, but he’s still so beautiful and Mike could get lost looking at him forever. “Whatever we want, I think,” Mike says cheesily, tucking a strand of hair behind Will’s ear.
“Oh my god, okay, you sap,” Will laughs, rolling his eyes but smiling all the same so Mike just can’t help himself when he tugs Will toward him by the front of his shirt for another kiss.
Okay, yeah. Mike could definitely get used to this. Best. Valentine’s Day. Ever, actually.
💙💛
One year later
“Mike! We’re gonna be late,” Will calls from the other room. Mike can hear his coat rustling as he presumably paces back and forth, brow furrowed, anxiously checking his watch every few seconds. Mike smiles at the thought. He can picture it perfectly.
“No we’re not,” Mike grunts, hopping out of their bedroom on one foot, attempting to slip his shoe on over his bumblebee-patterned sock that he unfortunately could not find a match to, which is why his other foot is clad in plain blue. Will cocks an eyebrow at him and folds his arms when Mike stumbles right into the wall, sliding pathetically to the floor. “Wiiiiiiill,” he whines, making grabby hands for his boyfriend to come help him stand up. Will rolls his eyes but a smile is being restrained so Mike can tell he’s not actually mad.
“Put your shoe on,” Will says through gritted teeth, obviously determined to keep his grin contained for as long as he can. Mike flashes a warm smile that usually makes Will crack, not moving even a little bit to tug his shoe on. Will lets his own smile peek through-- only a little bit but still-- and inches a step closer to Mike. “Put. Your shoe on. Please,” he tries again, just on this side of desperation but his voice shakes like repressed laughter and Mike is relentless, letting his fond little grin stretch even wider. Will cracks, letting his own smile break free, finally, finally.
“Put your shoe on you dork.” he nudges Mike’s socked foot with the toe of his yellow converse, a newer pair he got a few months ago, already quite beaten up and very clearly well-loved. Mike pulls on his own shoe-- blue converse with Will’s doodles all over the sides-- with not-exactly-minimal amounts of struggling. Will laughs quietly like he thinks Mike can’t hear when he’s being made fun of. He frowns up at Will, not really upset but very committed to the bit. He could pass as a theater kid.
“It’s not funny,” he complains. Will laughs again, louder this time, no longer afraid of getting caught.
“Yes it is. Now hurry up we are going to be late and Max is going to be mad.” Well. That’s a pretty good point, Mike guesses. He huffs out a faux-annoyed sigh and tries to get to his feet, nearly falling back down an embarrassing amount of times for only standing up. Will shakes his head fondly, steadying Mike with a warm hand around his bicep, pulling him close enough to plant a kiss on his cheek. Mike feels his face and neck and ears go warm with blush.
“Do we really need to go right now,” Mike groans, wanting nothing more than to push Will until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the couch and he falls backward, giving Mike the opportunity to crawl on top of him and kiss him silly.
“Unfortunately,” Will darts in to quickly press his lips to the tip of Mike’s nose. “Yes, we do. Because otherwise Max will have our heads. Like I said.”
“Fine,” Mike grumbles. He’ll just have to pull Will aside when they get to the restaurant and Max knows they’re there so she can’t be mad at them for being late.
Apparently, Mike is just extra clumsy today for whatever reason, because he practically falls down the stairs instead of walking down them, Will cackling loudly in his wake, the summery sound echoing brightly off the walls and Mike--
--steps on his own shoelace somehow and misses the last step, managing to twirl around mid-fall, arms flailing, and land on his ass. Will jumps the last three stairs, landing in front of Mike with a smack! that surely shot tendrils of pain up his shins though he doesn’t show any signs of being hurt.
“Are you okay?” he asks with a small smirk despite his eyebrows scrunching up slightly in genuine concern for Mike’s well-being. Mike nods, feeling a bit on the verge of laughter from his own stupidity. Will takes his hand gently before aggressively yanking him to his feet. Mike nearly topples over again but is met with a wall of human person.
“Hi,” he says, mere inches away from Will’s face and he is only human so he really can’t be blamed when he darts in for a peck on the lips. Or two. Or three. He just can’t be blamed, is the point.
“You’re lucky I love you,” Will mumbles against the fourth peck, which is a bit more than a peck now. Mike freezes.
"Wait, what," Mike says, abruptly pulling back. Will’s eyes go comically large as he realizes what he said.
“Uh,” Will starts eloquently.
“You love me?” Mike whispers. God, and the sound leaves him like it’s been punched out. He is pathetically gone for Will. Happens to love him, actually. Oh. He loves Will. That’s cool.
“Um. Yeah,” Will breaks their eye contact, an embarrassed flush blooming on his face before his gaze finds Mike’s again, scanning his face for a reaction. Mike doesn’t know what his face looks like but surely it’s something like dumbfounded, mouth open slightly and eyes wide.
“I--” Mike cuts off, throat constricting with emotion. “I love you too.”
Now it’s Will’s turn to look shocked, lips parting in surprise and a soft oh falling out of them. “I-- really?”
“Well why wouldn’t I,” Mike almost-yells, apparently unable to control his volume upon hearing this wonderful, wonderful news. Will flinches slightly and blushes an even deeper red. “Sorry,” Mike adds sheepishly, being very sure to lower his voice. He feels his face heat up.
“I-- I don’t know,” Will looks down again. “But-- for real? You love me?”
“Of course I do,” Mike says softly, gently using two fingers to tilt Will’s face up to look at him. “I love you.”
A warm, goofy smile stretches wide across Will’s mouth. “I love you.”
Heat floods through Mike’s veins, warming him from the inside out and he has never been more comfortable, wrapped up in his favorite person who he loves and who happens to love him back. His own dopey grin makes an appearance. “I am going to kiss you now, okay?” And Will barely has time to nod or murmur okay before Mike is slamming their mouths together, rough yet gentle like ocean waves crashing against rock and sand.
“You know,” Will huffs against Mike’s lips in between kisses, still smiling like a dork. A very cute dork, if Mike is being honest. He loves him. “Maybe-- we can tell Max-- that we’re running a bit-- late.”
Mike hums in agreement, moving to suck a bruise onto Will’s collarbone and relishing in the goosebumps that rise there at the vibrations from Mike’s voice. Will tugs at a lock of Mike’s hair breathing out a quiet jesus before dislodging Mike completely and yanking him back up until their lips touch again, open-mouthed and mostly teeth. It’s disgustingly clumsy but Mike can’t find it in him to care all that much. He loves Will.
Wow. He loves Will. So so much, actually. And the funny thing is, it's not even a new thought. Mike's pretty sure he's loved Will since the first time they dated, but only realized he might like Will a little more than just liking him when he was more devastated than he had ever been after a breakup. But that was scary because Will had left. So he ignored it. Until about a year later he was face to face with Will again. And one year later, still, he is here, right now, kissing him until neither of them can breathe.
But he's never thought I love him until right now, only felt it; in the way he wants to be gentle with Will and hold his hand and fall asleep next to him and wake up next to him forever. He feels it in the way he is willing to make Will's coffee with a horrifying amount of sweetener just to see him smile and he feels it in the way that after long days, Will's face is the only one he wants to see.
He's pretty sure Will is the love of his life, actually. But he's not going to say that out loud yet, lest he freak Will out and lose him again forever.
Will bites Mike's bottom lip hard enough to draw a groan of appreciation out of him that echoes slightly in the stairwell. Oh yeah, they're in a stairwell.
"Do-- you want to go back upstairs?" He asks, pulling away to look at Will, and what a sight. His cheeks are flushed a gorgeous pink, his eyes blown glossy black like deep water, giving Mike a smile sweeter than honey.
"Hmm," Will looks up at the ceiling in mock consideration. “I don’t know, we did promise to meet Max and Lucas in--” he checks his watch. “--oh shit like five minutes.” He glances up at Mike nervously.
“I will take all of the blame if we can have like ten more minutes,” Mike bargains. “Just ten minutes I swear.”
Will shoots him a mischievous grin, squeezes his bicep. “Fine,” he sighs, faux-exasperated. “Ten minutes.”
Mike grins back so widely it almost hurts. He just loves Will, is all. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Will darts in for one last peck that is actually a peck this time and then disentangles them from each other, dragging Mike back up the stairs by his wrist.
Maybe it should have been a surprise. Maybe Mike shouldn’t have seen it coming. Maybe he should have no idea what even happened. But he knows what happened.
He fell in love.
He fell in love with the boy who smiles like the sun, bright and beautiful and warm, but tries to hide it because he wasn’t allowed to be happy when he was a kid. He fell in love with the boy who trained himself to sneeze silently so he didn’t take up any more of peoples’ attention than was absolutely necessary. He fell in love with the boy who makes sure everyone feels seen and heard, giving everyone who needs it his unwavering attention, eyes wide and earnest and hanging on your every word. He fell in love with the boy with paint-stained hands, colored from the effort of creating masterpieces that he will not admit are amazing. He fell in love with the boy who endured horrible things when he was young, braved every single thing the world had to throw at him, and still came out the other side asking others if they were okay, still somehow remained kind. He fell in love with the boy who takes his coffee with so much cream and sugar, it’s honestly a wonder he isn’t diabetic. He fell in love with the boy who he has loved for years now. He fell in love with a boy that in some way, somehow loves him back.
And it was so easy, so effortless that he didn’t even notice at first.