Urlocalbagel
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He's done thinking about that, done thinking about why he feels both sick and thrilled, worried and excited, a paradox of 'don't do this' and if 'I don't touch him right now, I'll die.'
Mike extends his fingers. They fall between Will's brows, and when Will doesn't flinch away, doesn't say stop or don't, Mike slowly drags a yellow line down Will's hooked nose, drops it in the dip of his cupid's bow—trails lower, because he's already gone this far, he might as well, he's only been dreaming about this for years and years and so many goddamn years, why shouldn't he press the last of the paint onto Will's slightly-parted mouth? Color his lower lip in daffodil? Feel the heat of his breath ghost across the pad of his thumb as he murmurs, "Yellow, obviously," and daringly asks, "Remember mine?"
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Or: after receiving a letter prompting Mike to visit Will at college, Mike and Will reconnect and the rest, they say, is history. But they have enough of that already--why not add a bit more?