Chapter Text
‘Things will get better’, that’s what Will has heard every day since he returned from the hospital to find that he no longer had to worry about dying.
It’s strange to agree with that statement when he’s spent his whole life scoffing at it.
It’s also strange—the feeling that nothing particularly dangerous is lurking around the corner, the feeling that he doesn’t need to worry about being alone for the rest of his life. It’s odd to find himself almost falling into the same dark spiral he’s become so familiar with over the years, before reminding himself that he’s alive. That his family’s alive. That he doesn’t have that disgusting, vile, monster living inside him. That Mike’s okay. Not just okay, but okay with Will.
He stares at the ground in his new, unfamiliar bedroom. It’s much bigger than his old one, and much emptier, but he guesses that makes sense. He hasn’t had the energy or the physical strength to unpack everything yet.
Muffled noise from the NYE party in the living room grows louder all of a sudden, and Will turns his head toward the sound of his bedroom door clicking shut.
“Hey there,” Mike’s careful yet lighthearted voice, and the sight of him walking over, feels like warm water washing over Will’s head. “You disappeared. It’s almost time for the countdown.”
“Hey,” Will replies, cringing at how pathetic he sounds. He should stop feeling sorry for himself. There’s absolutely no reason to be like this; his loving family is having fun without him, but it’s not like they don’t want him there.
Mike slowly sits on the bed next to him before Will feels his hand rest on his waist. A warm, fuzzy rush prickles his skin for a moment; this is the new norm, yes, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still blush as if it’s the first time.
Mike is clearly waiting for him to speak, and Will doesn’t need to turn his head to know that he’s wearing that usual patient smile.
“Sorry,” Will murmurs. “I’ll come back in a second.”
A welcome feeling sparks calmness in Will’s limbs—Mike rubbing his thumb over the material of Will’s shirt. “It’s okay, we can stay here if you want. Kinda nice.” Mike’s voice is laced with indifference, but he knows there’s a note of understanding beneath it.
“No, no I don’t wanna make you miss the countdown,” Will replies quickly.
“‘Kay, well, I’m gonna need someone to kiss at midnight,” Mike shrugs. “Unless you want me to kiss Dustin, which would be–”
Will nudges him lightly, rolling his eyes. “Shut up,” he giggles, and soon Mike reciprocates, tightening his hold on Will’s arm and pulling him closer as they chuckle lightly together.
God, this is good. Moments like these make Will think that perhaps the phrase ‘Things will get better’ isn’t complete bullshit. If someone had told Will all about the things he gets to do with Mike now, the fact that he never has to worry about revealing what he is to him again, he probably would have cried for a while . He wouldn’t have believed it—that he gets to kiss Mike, that he gets to hug Mike more than once a month, that he gets to sleep in Mike’s bed on the weekends, that he gets to be his.
A swell of affection rises in Will’s chest as the laughing fades into a comfortable silence. He tilts his head to rest on Mike’s shoulder, eyes closing for a moment. Then, he feels a cheek against the side of his head and before long, a kiss.
Things really are good .
“Is this… feeling any better?” Mike’s voice vibrates against Will’s scalp, the hand not on his shoulder now placed gently on his injured leg’s thigh, fingers lightly scratching his jeans.
Will closes his eyes for a second as memories from his short time in Hawkins Hospital flash through his mind—his tibia ended up being fractured in two places, and the few days he spent there are blurry, interrupted at times by flashes of his family sitting near him, doting on him with concern. It had been nice, and he was thankful, of course. But then there was Mike. Mike, who treated him like a human, who made him feel brave, understanding when to be tender and when to act like everything was normal.
At the memory, Will tilts his head upwards with a small smile. “Mm, yeah, better than this morning,” he says, thinking of all the painkillers he’s taken. “Cast kinda itches though.”
Mike seems to perk up with an idea. “I can–”
“You’re not getting a fork stuck in there again.”
“Woah,” Mike laughs, mock indignation in his voice as he leans back. “I was going to say I can distract you, actually,” he murmurs low, pressing his face down so his nose rubs against the expanse of Will’s cheek. The familiar but welcome electricity pulses through Will’s body.
“Uh-huh,” Will mumbles, unable to stop a grin from spreading across his face. Then he thinks, screw it, and cups the side of Mike’s face with his palm, gently pushing his face away so he can look into his eyes, his pupils wide. “What were you– what were you thinking?”
Mike raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling up into a surprised little grin. “What were you thinking?” He places a hand over his heart. “I, for one, was going to suggest we go back to the living room and watch TV with everyone. But if you wanted to just make out then–”
Flushing, Will pushes at Mike’s chest, still aware of the hands all over him. “Oh my god , you’re so…” He shakes his head at Mike, a smile still aching his cheeks. The all-consuming, endearing affection overtakes his body, making him itch to break the teasing game they’re playing.
“So… what?” Mike says, leaning closer, making it blatantly obvious where his eyes are fixed—particularly on the lower half of Will’s face.
Will flashes a cheeky grin, realising that yes , this is really happening. Mike is so close now that Will can feel his breath on his face, they’re brushing noses, and no one else is around.
“So stupid,” he hums, feeling the skin of Mike’s lips against his for a moment. He closes his eyes, savouring the moment, before Mike teasingly pulls back a bit, making Will’s breath hitch in half-amusement, half-frustration.
“Hey, you love this stupid guy,” Mike retorts quickly, clearly caught up in the moment, just as much as Will is.
“Mm–” Will lets out a small sound, his eyes widening. Mike’s face also shifts from teasing to surprise, almost as if he hadn’t realised what he’d said until–
The door to Will’s bedroom opens, resulting in a flurry of movement. Mike pulls his arm away from Will’s waist, and Will sits up straighter, their legs firmly away from each other instead of practically on top of one another. Right , not everything is perfect. Will had almost forgotten.
“Oh good, you found him,” Joyce breathes out, almost sounding just as flustered as they feel. Will knows he’s blushing—he’s not sure whether it’s because his mom nearly caught them in an intimate moment or because they’d both just been confronted with words they haven’t had the chance, or more likely, the courage, to say yet.
“Sweetie, do you want to come to the living room? There’s ten minutes ‘til midnight,” Joyce says. She’s being extra careful with him again, he realises. Her voice grows even more cautious. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to–”
Will, with a sudden change of heart, gets up from the bed. “No! No, it’s fine I’ll– I’ll be there, yeah.”
Joyce nods and smiles before walking down the hall. Will exhales, stumbling a little when he puts weight on his good leg.
He looks at Mike and offers an exasperated grin, wondering if he misinterpreted his sudden decision. Did he think Will wanted to leave because he didn’t want to say what they both knew was hanging in the air? Of course, Will wants to say it—but it’s like the words burn with all the implications. The idea that they’ll either have to hide forever or make a dramatic confession, with everyone asking a million questions and–
“Glad you changed your mind,” Mike says, his smile warm but his eyes betraying uncertainty.
‘Wh– what?”
Mike stands up, walks over to where the crutches lean against the desk, and brings them over to Will. “C’mon,” he says, his smile now slightly marred by the rapid blinking that Will knows signals doubt. They slowly walk out the room into the hallway.
As they step into the living room, everyone’s faces light up at the sight of Will coming back. He knows he should feel pleased by their warm reception, so he smiles back. Under normal circumstances, Will would have felt warmer and would have wanted to sit down and chat with everyone. But now, with the weight of the unsaid words, all he knows is discomfort and anticipation.
Mike must have noticed something was off. “You okay?” he asks as the others finish their quiet greetings to Will before returning to what they were doing—watching TV, paying attention to the presenters harping on about something.
Will’s mind snaps back to his body. “Yeah! Yeah, just wanna sit down,” he says, nodding before making his way to the couch. He hopes Mike will follow, and he’s relieved when he does, both of them squishing between Robin and Jonathan, who are deep in other conversations.
Will scans the room, smiling at the sight of Holly stealing a bunch of the snacks laid out on the table. He doesn’t have to wonder how strange she must feel—everyone acting like you’re going to break, acting like you’re a freak. At least she has Mike for a brother, Will thinks. Turning his head to look at him, he finds Mike staring in the same direction, his brows furrowed in quiet concern.
Will wishes he could do what he usually does when Mike worries about Holly—now that she’s back. He’s pretty sure Mike always appreciates Will’s hand interlinked with his anyway, but especially during times like these.
Not now, though. Not when literally every person whose opinion Mike and Will care about deeply are in this very room.
It’s likely that no one has noticed how their knees are brushing or how their knuckles are grazing where their hands rest. But still, it feels like all eyes are on them, like everyone is observing the way they move, the way they talk to each other.
Will forces himself to take a deep breath. His friends aren’t horrible. And besides, there are a few people in this room whom Mike has told Will that definitely, though not-so-obviously, know about them. El is the one Will can be most certain about, even though she’s currently in the middle of singing some awful song with Lucas. He knows that later, she’ll probably do that thing .
That thing where she goes all: “Is Mike being nice today?” “How is Mike treating you?”
The first time she asked, it was… well, interesting. Afterwards, Mike had taken a deep breath and explained to Will about the conversations they’d had while all the fighting and danger was going down.
Will uses this quiet moment to study Mike’s face—the curve of his jaw, the way he’s chewing on his lip. He wants to let out a lovesick sigh. It’s almost impossible to believe that he’s really his .
He’d never let Mike go through that agony again, especially when Will knows all too well how it feels. He’d rather endure the torture of being in love with his best friend for another ten years than let Mike suffer through that for even one more week.
But as one danger fades away, a newer, smaller one arises. Will looks around the room, wondering if they’re being obvious again. It’s exhausting, always being on high alert, constantly afraid that a teasing question or a suspicious smile is just around the corner. For a ridiculous moment, he wonders if anyone can sense the tension between them.
Will can’t stop thinking about what Mike said to him in his bedroom. Of course, he knows Mike loves him. Mike’s shown that plenty of times—through the early-morning kisses, the little looks he gives Will, the times when he does Will’s homework for him when he’s passed out from exhaustion. Will can’t think about any of this for too long, or he’ll die from happiness.
But hearing those words spoken aloud was a shock. Will had assumed it may take a while for Mike to say them—especially after a few December nights spent comforting him while he silently cried over what he claimed was ‘nothing’, even though Will knew it was about the pressure, the possible judgement from their loved ones.
That shit never makes it easier for them.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” Mike mutters before pushing off the couch in a rush, making Will jump. He watches as Mike walks out of the living room and into the hallway beyond. The TV lights up, announcing there are only five more minutes until the countdown.
El watches Mike leave too, then catches Will’s eye. She gives him a look that he recognises from the past month. Will nods back, giving her the ‘ it’s fine’ look. She almost sharpens her gaze, but they both break into small smiles, exhaling a shared laugh.
Once El turns back to talk to Lucas, Will quietly slips out of the room, hoping no one notices, especially his mom. It doesn’t quite work, though, and he has to pretend he feels a little ill from eating too much. Eventually, he makes it into the kitchen behind the living room. His new house has a strange layout, but there’s one thing he knows about it for sure:
“This isn’t the bathroom,” Will says lightly, making Mike startle where he’s leaning against the counter. His eyes brighten a bit when Will enters, though he’s gnawing on his thumb. Will mirrors him on the opposite counter, which is close enough that they brush knees.
“Hey, sorry, um…” Mike shakes his head, laughing softly at himself. Will hopes the tension he feels isn’t awkwardness from earlier. Things have been going so, so well.
“It’s not fair if I don’t get to disappear but you do, y’know,” Will says teasingly, anxiously awaiting a response. Mike looks down at his shoes, and Will’s heart skips when he hears a small noise from him—could it be a sniffle?
Fear jolts through Will’s limbs, and he instinctively reaches out to Mike’s hand, lightly grazing his scarred palm with his fingertips, softening his voice. “Mike… are you okay?”
Mike doesn’t respond, and Will can barely see his face—some of it is hidden by his hair, but mostly, he’s just looking down. Should he bring up what happened earlier? El constantly says to him that ‘talking is good’, and he’s well aware of that. He loves how much better he and Mike communicate now. But what if it makes things worse? What if it ruins anything?
“Mike?” Will reaches out, gently touching Mike’s face and flinches when he feels a cold wetness on his cheek. Shit . Oh my god, he had no idea it would be this bad. “ Hey , what– what’s wrong?” Will’s voice trembles, his usual automatic mirror-response to Mike’s crying kicking in again.
Mike sniffles, finally revealing his face, red and a little wet. “N- nothing much, I… I’m just sorry, I guess? I don’t know…” He shakes his head, looking away, avoiding eye contact.
Will places both hands on the sides of Mike’s face, gently turning him to face him. One of his thumbs rubs away a tear before it can trail down any further.
“Stop that,” Will says with care, “Saying sorry too much is my job.” His insides light up at the sight of Mike’s small smile and the relieved exhale. “And… it’s okay. It’s okay, you have nothing to be sorry about, I swear.”
Will just… can’t understand how Mike could ever, ever be sorry about being in love with him, for expressing it, both in actions and words. Maybe it’s because Mike had insinuated that Will’s in love with him, rather than the other way around, and he’s scared that… Will doesn’t feel the same? Is he blind?
Will rushes to reassure him, as Mike rolls his eyes affectionately and presses his face against Will’s palm. Will throws all caution to the wind, his voice soft, “I understand. I need you to know that… that I–”
Finally, Mike makes eye contact. “That you’re here. I know,” he whispers. Will opens his mouth to correct him, feeling a little flustered by the miscommunication, but Mike continues, taking Will’s hands off his face and holding them, inspecting them carefully.
“It’s just hard. You know?” Mike bites his lip, voice breaking as he blinks rapidly. “Everyone being here is nice, sure. But… I just wanna…” He looks up at Will with poignant eyes, glistening in the soft glow of the kitchen light. Will swears his heart might explode. He wishes they were alone, truly alone. “I really wanted to…”
Will leans in, his voice barely a whisper. “Wanna what?”
Mike sighs in exasperation. “I want to kiss you at midnight.” Will’s eyebrows shoot up as the nervous fog in his mind clears, only to be replaced with a flustered and confused haze. “Like, so badly–”
“You do?” Will stammered, feeling his face heat. Is that what he’s been so weird about– no, surely not.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mike slumps back against the kitchen counter, before running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Yeah! Yeah, but I just can’t … I can’t…” Mike struggles to find the words, but Will doesn’t need him to.
“I can’t in front of everyone,” is what Mike lands on, and Will feels his heart clench sympathetically. “I wish I was ready for you, y’know? And– and it would be so cool to be able to do what everyone else does at midnight, because I’ve always wanted to do cheesy shit like that with you, and I know you want it too. But I’m such a… coward or something–”
Will frowns. “Hey, stop that. I told you, I understand. Things have gone so quick the past couple months, haven’t they?” he explains gently, rubbing Mike’s arm in slow, loving circles. He needs him to know. To know that he loves him.
“Mhm,” Mike mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut. Then he whispers, almost as if Will isn’t supposed to hear, “Wish I was better for you.”
“ Mike ,” Will drawls out, his voice soft but firm, as he stares at him intently. “I don’t need some grand gesture in front of everyone. I don’t even know if I want that,” he chuckles, softening under Mike’s watery gaze.
“But you wanna be with–”
“I want to be with you , silly,” Will urges, his hands sliding around to gently intertwine behind Mike’s neck, resting there. “We don’t have to be with everyone. We can just be us, wherever you want.” He leans in closer, their noses touching, feeling warm breath pass between them.
Mike lets out a shaky sigh, his arms wrapping around Will’s waist. “You’re too good to me,” he mumbles. “What did I do to deserve you?”
Will leans back slightly, letting out a soft sigh at the words he’s heard in various forms over the past month. He opens his mouth to respond, to say what he usually says—denying it quickly—but then he pauses, tilting his head. He knows Mike’s just going to calmly accept it without really accepting it.
They stand there in silence for a few moments. Mike’s mouth scrunches to the side as Will studies him, sighing. Then, caringly, he rakes a hand through Mike’s hair, watching the waves shift and tangle between his fingers, how Mike’s eyes flutter slightly from the feeling.
“You are you .”
Mike hesitates, his expression wavering from nervousness to awe, then back to uncertainty in the blink of an eye. “But I’m so…”
“Mike—“
“I’m so horrible to you,” he whispers. Will’s stomach tightens. He’s heard things like this before, in quieter moments, when Mike’s feeling uncertain, especially before they’re about to go to sleep. But this feels different. It feels genuine. Maybe all the times Mike has said it have been genuine—Will wishes, for the thousandth time this month, that he could give Mike the ability to see himself through his eyes.
“What are you talking about?” Will says gently, continuing to hold Mike’s face, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. “You are… the nicest person. You’re sweet, and- and you always understand me, and–” Mike rolls his eyes and scoffs, though there are tears being held back with force. “Have you met yourself?”
“Shush,” Mike mumbles, looking down, nuzzling his face a little into the hand holding it. “You just deserve someone who’ll… who’ll wanna kiss you in front of other people. Someone who hasn’t made you feel like shit in the past and stuff. You deserve everything good. Because you’re so good. God, you’re so good.”
Chewing on his lip, Will slides his hands to rest on the back of Mike’s neck, giving himself a moment to think. It feels impossible—impossible to make Mike realise just how important he is. Will’s always felt like he didn’t belong, that loving the people he loves was wrong. But now he knows it can’t be wrong. If being who he is means loving Mike Wheeler, then it can’t be a bad thing.
“Look at me,” Will says, finally catching Mike’s eye, a lump in his throat. “Do you think I deserve what makes me happy?”
Mike smiles a bit, blinking several times knowingly, as if he has an idea about what Will’s going to say. “Yes, I really do,” he breathes, shifting his weight.
“Well then,” Will says, getting closer so Mike can feel the truthfulness of his words. “That’s you. That’s you, all the time. Just you. Doesn’t matter about all the other stuff like whether or not you can kiss me, whether you’ll wanna tell your family, whether… you’re sweet to me or not.”
Mike licks his lips as a stray tear is quickly wiped away, his eyes unmistakably in awe of what Will’s just said, letting the words seep in. He exhales a small laugh and looks down. “You’re so sappy,” he murmurs, standing up straighter and gripping the sides of Will’s shirt near his waist.
“Yeah, well, my boyfriend deserves it,” Will says adamantly, tilting his face upwards so their noses are a mere breath away from each other. “He’s a good person.”
Mike’s amused grin gradually fades as he sniffles, looking away a little. Will takes a deep breath, urging himself to be brave. His instincts to make Mike feel good take over, pushing aside his fear of awkwardness. “So he deserves to feel loved.”
A little, unintelligible noise comes from Mike, his face unreadable. But Will can at least see that the words are having an effect, and he bears the scorching eye contact.
“Mike…” Will starts, applying a little pressure on Mike’s nape, eventually touching foreheads. Mm, his hair is so soft– okay, focus . “I…”
When the chanting of a countdown from ten suddenly erupts from the living room, Mike flinches and half-pulls away, his hands still grazing over the sides of Will’s hips as he peers into the doorway, just in case. Looking back at each other, they burst into laughter, and Will feels that all-too-familiar lovesick thrill curling around his stomach, warming his chest at the sight of Mike so elated.
“We got a bit distracted didn’t we?” Mike giggles, sniffing as he rests his forehead on Will’s shoulder, wrapping his arms properly around his torso. He could really get used to this feeling, with Mike’s warm breath against his neck.
“Yeah, we did,” Will replies with a laugh, continuing to run his fingers through Mike’s hair. Jesus, he must have showered very recently. “Ah well. Hey, where’s my new years’ kiss, hm?” He jostles Mike a little, who then lifts his head up, giving Will a very dopey, lopsided grin.
He snorts before pressing his nose to Will’s cheek, and Will almost leans forward to kiss him before he feels Mike’s voice vibrating against him. “I really, really love you.”
There it is. Will feels his heart do a little skip, like it’s dancing, and the adrenaline is almost too much , making him want to grab Mike’s face and press his lips all over. He’s about to giggle and repeat those words when a different set of lips interrupts him, sliding over his own as a warm, bubbly, fuzzy feeling spreads across his face to his arms, his hands—everywhere.
Will thought that other people, the ones he’s keeping this a secret from, cheering in the next room, being so close, would ruin the moment. But he’s wrong. He couldn’t be more wrong. He doesn’t care about anyone else but Mike —Mike, who’s running his gorgeous hands up Will’s back, Mike, who’s so caring with the way he moves his lips. Will can feel the love. He never needed to say it, but the words coming from the same mouth that’s on his feels like a dream.
Will’s the one to pull away with a small, pleased sound, surprising himself with his control. “ I was gonna say that,” he whispers, and Mike grins toothily, as Will’s eyes rake over his flushed face, his mussed hair.
Slightly hooded, Mike’s eyes do the same, glancing over Will’s face before landing on his lips. “Hm. Guess we’ll start over?”
That voice does unspeakable things to Will’s brain, so he can’t say no, grinning into the next kiss that Mike gives him, softer and more tender than the last. It makes him ache almost, wishing he could be closer to Mike than this, even though how close he really wants to be to him probably isn’t possible.
When they pull away, Will almost forgets what he’s meant to say, a strangely pleasant fog clouding his mind. “I love– I love you, Mike.” Feeling the need to squeeze his eyes shut, Will’s interrupted by Mike’s thumb rubbing over the blushing skin of his cheek. “I hope you know that. You– you do know that right–”
Mike giggles. “Of course I know that!” he exclaims, smiling wide. “It’s a little obvious, Will.”
Feeling the heat in his face spread to his neck, Will scoffs and shakes his head, cheeks hurting from the smile splitting his face. “As it should be,” he replies before giving Mike a quick kiss on the nose.
A loving hum escapes Mike’s throat, and Will knows he’s about to say something. “What do ya love most about me, then?” Mike asks teasingly.
Rolling his eyes, Will laughs and shakes his head. “That’s very hard to–”
“Come on,” Mike whispers, before his voice turns into an over-the-top, irritating whine, “Come on , you must have something,” he says before practically pouting and fiddling with Will’s fingers.
“Mike, you’re such an idio–”
“Please, Will?” He enunciates with a quick, chaste kiss on Will’s lips. “You were being so nice before…”
Will sighs and clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side, trying to pretend like he definitely isn’t unironically being swayed by those dark eyes. “Hmm, well, you do… you do give really good hugs.”
“I do?” Mike’s voice rises in soft surprise as he leans away from Will’s face, raising his eyebrows. His arms are still firmly wrapped around his waist.
“Yeah,” Will mutters. “They’re really… warm.”
Mike leans back in, but instead of going for Will’s lips, he rubs his face against the side of his neck, sending small fizzles of electricity through him, especially when Mike’s voice vibrates against him again, “Wow, that’s good to know, Will.”
Jesus christ , Will wants to groan with how good he feels. Instead, he sighs, his hand mindlessly tangling itself in Mike’s soft waves again. “Mhm, you’ve always been like that. Very cuddly.”
Mike exhales into his skin. “And you’ve always liked my hugs,” he mumbles teasingly, though Will can’t deny it. He chuckles before they settle into a tender silence, only broken by Mike’s soft breathing and the rustling of clothes as they shift into a more comfy position.
Just as Will is getting ready to pull away and ask if Mike’s ready to go back into the living room, a small voice breaks the silence, followed by a sentence that is so muffled, Will can’t hear a word of it.
“What’s that?” Will says, gently using his hands to push Mike’s face away from his neck.
Mike sniffs, eyes darting over Will’s face. “Do you remember…” He fidgets restlessly with Will’s clothes, then his fingers, then his hair. Will waits patiently, giving Mike his most endearing smile. “...when we used to hug for like, really long? When we were kids?”
The corners of Will’s mouth quirk up wryly at the mention of how they used to be when they were kids. It’s not like they don’t talk about it now—how obvious it all must have been to everyone else except them—but Will still feels the rush at the words all the same. Also, he knows exactly what Mike’s talking about. But…
“Hm, remind me.”
“I dunno, Will,” Mike drawls out, suddenly shy. “You might not, you may not remember but we had this- this thing called–”
“‘Hug Time’?” Will watches as Mike’s eyes light up, his whole body brightening along with it. “‘Course I remember that.” Will may be acting cool, but on the inside, the fact that Mike’s the one that remembers something from their past and not him makes him want to relive this moment over and over again.
He can’t believe there was ever a time when he was uncertain whether Mike could ever, ever treat him the way he had when they were kids again. At least, without making it something to be ashamed of. And now, as Mike smiles in front of him and leans down to capture Will in a kiss, he finally forgets all the hurt.
“I mean… do you- do you wanna?” Mike mumbles against Will’s lips, the party still making noise from the other room. Will knows he’s probably supposed to be nervous about someone walking in on them being so affectionate, but he’s only focused on the hands trailing down to rest on his back.
“As always,” Will says, “Just say the word–” His words are cut short when Mike suddenly envelopes him in a tight hug, pressing his face into Will’s shoulder and squeezing with all his might, though it’s just enough to still count as gentle.
“Oh, Mike,” Will whispers, unsure if he’s even able to hear it, but Mike squeezes him in response. The arms around Mike’s shoulders grip harder as one hand, once again, finds its way into his hair.
Will closes his eyes, relishing in the deep, calming sighs Mike is emitting, the texture of his hair, the fact that the future—while uncertain—is bright for them. There’s not much of a question about it in Will’s mind; he can already imagine them living like he’s always wanted—in peace. Just them, just Mike and Will, Will and Mike, without further interruption. Without the threat of the supernatural looming over their shoulders, and maybe, just maybe one day, without the danger of being made social pariahs for who they are.
It’s been a couple minutes. Will turns his head and almost wonders if Mike’s gone to sleep , with the way his breathing is so calm and even. Planting a light kiss on his cheek, Will whispers, “Mike, you okay?”
“Mhm,” Mike mumbles back, tightening his grip.
If Will closes his eyes, he swears he could easily imagine being back in Mike’s basement, sharing giggles at midnight and making up imaginary stories with his best friend—who he just can’t get enough of. The best friend he feels the safest with. Although, the truth is, he doesn’t need to imagine anymore.
“Wanna hug for longer?” Will asks softly, fiddling with the hairs that curl over Mike’s ear before tucking them behind it. Mike nods before adjusting his grip. A comforting warmth pools in the bottom of Will’s stomach and he smiles. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter whether Hug Time is never usually this long or that it’s a change in their routine. It’s nice. It’s really nice.