Chapter Text
“Hello, earth to Wheeler.”
Mike clicked his tongue as he lifted his hand to move Max’s snapping fingers away from his face. “Let me think.”
Max fell back into her seat, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Mike, what’s there to think about? You’re the only one who can accommodate a party of twelve people without having to argue with a nagging roommate.”
The way she said it made it sound like twelve people was no amount of people at all. She’d been nagging him for days about her party, bringing it up every time she saw him. And as much as he wanted to host, Mike wasn’t nearly reckless enough to agree without overthinking. Her birthday was a month from now, and Mike needed to weigh the possibility that, by then, he might actually have a roommate.
Mike shook his head. “Max, I’m renting. I’ve seen your friends, they’re animals. Besides, I’m still looking for a roommate. It could happen any day now.”
She rolled her eyes at him, chest heaving as she sighed. Leaning forward again, she placed her arms on the table, staring him down. “Oh, really? I vaguely remember you saying that exact same thing. In November. How many listings did you post? One? Two?”
“Four,” Mike mumbled.
“And, did anyone reach out to you at all? Except for that one weird fifty-something year old?”
He balled his hands to fists under the table. Yeah, Max was right, but that still didn’t mean he could just throw his apartment open to twelve feral twenty-year-olds. Mike’s dad started putting an immense amount of pressure on him, threatening to cut him off, as he was no longer willing to cover for the entire apartment. He’d given him an ultimatum, and as Mike watched the month of February pass, the end of it drawing closer, he’d slowly started seeing himself under a bridge —or worse, getting a job.
He had until the end of the month.
“I’ve had applicants,” Mike said, his face twisting uncomfortably. “Just not the kind I’m looking for.”
Max shooed him with her hand, eyes now fixed on something behind Mike’s back, clearly following movement. Mike turned around to follow her gaze, and his eyes immediately locked on a girl who was crossing the cantina with a tablet in hand. Her long brown hair fell flat against her shoulders, doing nothing to hide the floppy bunny ears drooping at either side of her head. A dark spot marked the tip of her nose, brownish-red at the center, fading into a deep pink.
“I can’t believe she just walks around like this,” Max muttered.
Mike just stared. Watched as the girl picked up her fork and dug it into the pasta. Watched as her nose scrunched up as she started chewing. On her next bite, she smiled around the fork, her soft ears twitching slightly. When she caught Mike’s gaze, her smile faded, and she looked down at the table, a blush spreading on her cheeks.
Mike flinched. Feeling caught, he turned around to look at Max. He couldn’t tell if it was terror or disgust that was written on her face. Maybe both.
They were taught from a very young age that hybrids aren’t to mess with. Stay away. Don’t engage. They’re dangerous.
As Mike grew up, they appeared more frequently. He remembered being five, completely awestruck by a man’s large ears. While his mother was reading the ingredients on a bottle of ketchup, Mike had walked up to him and poked his leg, asking if he could look at them. The man had been friendly, crouching down and lowering his head, and Mike had been mid-reach when his mother yelped behind him and yanked him back by his arm, hard enough to make him stumble.
He hadn’t understood, then. The man was nice and seemed harmless to five-year-old Mike. But as he got older, he soon learned what everyone else seemed to believe. He saw the news. He saw the headlines in his father’s newspaper. He saw the protests that his dad occasionally even dragged him to. Hybrids were a menace to society. They were wild animals, unable to control their natural instincts. They attacked, stole, raped, and couldn’t be trusted. At least that’s what society seemed to believe.
Mike’s stomach churned. He’d broken ground rule number two. Don't engage. He’d allowed himself to stare, made eye contact with the hybrid — even if involuntarily. He placed his hands on the table, digging a fingernail into his thumb. “I mean, what’s she supposed to do?”
“I don’t know,” Max snapped back. “Wear a hat, maybe? A hoodie? She shouldn’t just be in here for the world to see. Why are you defending her?”
“I’m not,” Mike objected. “I’m just as uncomfortable as you are. It’s just-“ he paused, “…probably hard to hide something that’s attached to your head.”
“Whatever, Wheeler.” She kicked his shin under the table, causing Mike to wince. “I’m heading to class. You joining us at the arcade tonight? Lucas says he can beat Dustin’s high score, which I highly doubt. But I’m pulling through with the supportive girlfriend bullshit.”
“Can’t, sorry.” Mike shook his head. “I have an assignment due tomorrow, and I’m really behind. Might have to pull an all-nighter.”
Max groaned as she finally got up and grabbed her backpack from the chair next to her. When she turned away, she threw him one last look. “Can’t believe you’re leaving me alone with these losers.”
Max left, and Mike turned around to scan the cantina one more time. The bunny hybrid was gone. The twist in his stomach remained.
*
Mike lied. He did not have an assignment due the next morning. Lately, though, he liked being alone. After his roommate moved out in October, the apartment had felt too big. Mike wasn’t used to being alone; he’d always lived with someone. His family at first, then with a roommate after he moved for college.
He wasn’t used to using the bathroom whenever he needed, not sharing the contents of the fridge, not having to be quiet past 10pm so as to not wake anyone up. So, in the first couple weeks after his roommate left, he constantly felt like something was missing. His friends took turns sleeping on his couch more often than usual, raided his fridge, and walked him home after classes. Dustin offered to move in with him, and the thought was nothing short of a nightmare. Mike loved the guy to bits, but he sounded like a chainsaw when he slept, and Mike needed absolute silence. Luckily, he didn’t need to respond to the offer, because Dustin had poked him with his elbow and concluded with, “Just kidding. There's no way I could afford rent.”
After a while, the discomfort shifted, and Mike started to enjoy the silence. He didn’t need to brace for someone entering his personal space, or worry about invading theirs. He started peeing with the door open, stopped caring about expiring food in the fridge, and even dared to jerk off on the couch in broad daylight.
He’d gotten used to having the place to himself.
Mike came home, dropped his messenger bag by the door, and didn’t bother hanging up his coat, just let it fall to the floor. He put away his groceries, got changed into something more comfortable, then settled on the couch with water and a book.
He’d barely opened it when the phone rang and his heart dropped to his stomach.
No one but his parents ever called him. He saw his friends daily, they had no reason to call, and Nancy preferred sending letters. So, Mike considered just letting the phone ring out. His dad would hang up eventually, they could talk about Mike’s living situation and finances some other time. He pressed his lips to a firm line and waited for the ringing to stop, his heart still hammering in his chest from the shock.
But it didn’t stop. It must’ve gone on for ages, and as it went on, Mike felt like it was getting louder, ripping through his eardrums and making his ears whistle. With an annoyed sigh, he slammed the book shut and got up, crossing the distance between himself and the phone that was shaking in its spot on the wall. Mike really needed to tighten the screws.
He picked up. “Hello?”
There was nothing but ragged breathing on the other end of the line, and Mike almost hung up again. But then a faint, female voice came through to Mike, definitely directed towards the actual caller. “Come on, sweetie. You got this.”
Then, words, directly spoken into the speaker. “Uh, yeah, hi. Sorry.” Silence. “I’m Will Byers, I’m calling about the listing. Is the room still free?”
Mike sighed. He knew he should be glad about the call. Especially since the caller, Will, sounded young. Normal. He felt the urge to pivot, say the room was taken. Surely his dad couldn’t be that serious about cutting his funds. Right?
“Uh, yeah, hi,” he responded instead. “Yeah, yeah, the room is still free.”
“Okay, uhm, that’s good I guess.”
When there was silence, Mike asked, “Do you want to come and look at it?”
“I think that would be a good thing to do, yeah.” There was another pause, but this time the caller picked up again. “I’m just not sure if you’d want me there?”
Mike hummed in confusion. "Why's that?”
“Well, I know it says no hybrids in your listing, but, uh—“
Oh no. Mike’s chest tightened. He had to give it to them. They were persistent. Despite the clear restriction in his listing, they were the only ones calling about the room. He decided to not hang up rudely, mostly because the boy on the other end of the line seemed so anxious, Mike didn’t want a reason to feel bad.
“—but this is the fourth time you’ve listed the room, so I thought I’d check in, anyways.”
Mike pondered for a moment. Usually, he’d shut the call off immediately once the caller revealed themselves. He couldn’t justify not doing that now. But it felt different from the other calls. Mike thought about the bunny girl in the cantina earlier, how she’d sat alone and her smile dropped when she saw his eyes on her. Had she also nervously tried to find a place to stay? Then his thoughts drifted to his parents, who would be absolutely feral at the thought of Mike letting an animal into this apartment. He thought about the boy on the other end of the line. Mike didn’t know him. He could be dangerous. Lacking self-control. His mind wandered back to his father, who seemed very eager to cut Mike off if he couldn’t find a roommate. Soon.
His shoulders slumped. “Well, it is the fourth listing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” the boy responded.
“Okay, uh-“ Mike scrambled for words. “What if you come and have a look, and we can talk, maybe? Like, I don’t know how this would work, but maybe we can figure something out?”
There was a pause, long enough for Mike to regret his words. He chewed on his bottom lip, waiting for a response. He made an offer and had nothing to add, and it was too late to take it back.
“Okay,” the caller said eventually. “I mean, if this is really okay? I don’t want to pressure you or something, but I really need a place. I start classes on the 1st.”
Mike glanced at the calendar, realizing how soon that was. Two weeks. “Are you in town?”
“Yeah, until Friday, then we’re heading back to Indiana.” Will huffed a laugh.
This was giving Mike the perfect blueprint for a rejection. Friday was in two days. He could simply have said he couldn’t make time and left it at that. Instead—
“You can come tomorrow, if you’d like.” His eyes were still on the calendar. “I’m home until noon. So maybe, I don’t know, ten?”
There was a sigh on the other end of the line. It seemed light. Was the hybrid relieved?
“Ten works. Thanks, really.”
“Just to be clear,” Mike said, “this is just a viewing, yeah?”
“Of course,” the boy responded, his voice lighter now.
They took a moment while Mike gave him the full address, and when they hung up, Mike took a deep breath and exhaled hard, like he was blowing out twenty birthday candles at once.
He couldn’t believe what just happened. Couldn’t believe he just invited a hybrid into his home. On the other hand, though, said hybrid had seemed normal, almost scared to ask Mike about the room. He sounded human. Not like the headlines or the stories. Not like what his parents and teachers taught him to expect.
The next day, Mike woke up at nine. After the phone call last night, he’d slumped back into the cushioning on the couch, thinking long enough for the room to turn dark. His book had been entirely dismissed, thanks to the thoughts spiraling in his head. Yes, this was just a viewing, but what if Mike couldn’t tell him no when they were face to face? What if he was actually dangerous? Oh God, he’d be alone with him. Mike considered calling Max and ask her to come by for moral support, but then dropped the thought, knowing exactly she’d tell him to fuck off, followed by a string of insults. Lucas avoided hybrids like the plague, and while Dustin really didn’t mind them, open-minded as ever, Mike knew he had important classes on Thursday mornings.
Mike realized he didn’t have his number. He couldn't even call him to blow the whole thing off. So instead of cleaning —which he would’ve done for a normal viewing— Mike decided on sabotage. He kept his bedroom door open, revealing worn clothes scattered across the floor, and rumpled, stained sheets he hadn’t bothered changing. He left the dirty dishes in the sink, didn’t take out the trash. He didn’t air out the apartment, let the scent of sweat and unwashed socks linger. He didn’t shower, and stayed in his sleep clothes, the sweat staining the collar of his shirt. There was an issue of Honcho on the coffee table. For a moment, Mike considered moving it, then decided to leave it. If anything, it might help.
Once Mike realized what he was doing, he felt gross. I really live like this? He lifted the collar of his shirt to his nose, face twisting with disgust. Okay, no, that was too much. Definitely way too much. Hybrid or not, Mike couldn’t embarrass himself like that. He went back into his bedroom and reached inside his closet for a clean, black shirt that faintly smelled of the laundry detergent his mother had given him for Christmas.
Ten minutes before their meeting, Mike suddenly felt the urge to clean up. But there was no time. He’d just managed to slide the window open a notch when the doorbell rang.
“Shit,” Mike mumbled, hesitating as he looked around the apartment. It wasn’t too bad, actually. Just the mess of a person living their everyday life. But enough for Mike to wonder if Will would tell people on campus about what kind of goblin Mike was, if this viewing ended up being an absolute disaster.
Mike shook his head. Too late now. The doorbell rang a second time, and he finally went to open the door. He stood by the open door, waiting for the hybrid to make his way up the stairs and down the long hallway. Mike didn’t even peek out, not even when he heard soft footsteps approaching. He stood there, mortified, gripping the doorknob like his life depended on it.
The hybrid finally appeared in front of him. Mike froze, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. In front of him was a boy, slightly shorter than Mike. Mike eyed him up and down, avoiding his face at first. The ears caught his attention first. They seemed softer than the rest of his brown hair, blending seamlessly into it. One ear lay low against his head, the other stood upright, twitching faintly, revealing the soft, pink skin inside. He was fumbling with his fingers, and when Mike’s eyes landed on his thighs, they widened. His tail was wrapped around his upper thigh, the same brown fur as his ears, the white tip flicking in short, nervous arcs.
Cat, Mike thought. Not scary or dangerous. Just cat.
For a moment, Mike wondered how he’d even put on pants, but when his eyes finally wandered towards his face, Mike’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline. Where he’d expected whiskers at the sides of the nose, there were none. Instead, a scattering of freckles traced his cheekbones, some darker than others, thinning as they spread toward the bridge of his nose. His eyes were hazel. His pupils had a perfectly human shape. Though they were so dilated in the dark hallway that, if he’d been human, Mike might’ve assumed he was on drugs.
“Are you… done observing me?” The hybrid smiled faintly, his upright ear flicking.
Mike rapidly blinked back at him. “Shit, sorry. Was it that obvious?”
“Can’t get much more obvious than forty-seven seconds, right?” He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.
“Maybe, uh, fifty-three?” Mike tried to laugh it off. “Anyway, hello. And sorry.”
He shook his head as he walked past Mike, who’d stepped aside to let him in. “I’m used to it. And hello.”
They stood next to each other then, and Mike reached out his hand. “On a less awkward note, hi, I’m Mike.”
“Will.” He reached for Mike’s hand and shook it, not applying too much pressure.
Mike looked down, noticing that, no, Will did not actually have claws. But his skin was soft, warm against Mike’s.
Before Mike could stare another second too long, he dropped his hand and cleared his throat. He looked back at Will’s face and was met with a smile.
“So, are you going to show me around?”
Mike noticed that both of Will’s ears were upright now. They were uneven, one of them turned a little more outward. He wondered if that meant anything, and if Will was aware of his own body language.
Before Mike could speak, he noticed a shift in Will’s expression. His eyebrows furrowed slightly; he scrunched his nose and turned toward the open kitchen.
“Uh, you okay?” Mike asked after a second of observation. Will’s ears had tilted back and he looked… displeased?
Mike watched as he tried to regulate his face, still scanning the kitchen with his eyes. “Yeah, it’s just- nevermind.”
“You know you’re going to have to be honest with me, right?”
Will looked back at him, raising his eyebrows. “I just- I think I smell oranges.” When Mike tilted his head with a puzzled expression, Will went on, voice as low as a whisper, as though he was scared of saying something wrong. “I don’t like oranges. Or any citrus fruit, for that matter.”
Mike nodded, trying to remember when he’d eaten clementines. Three days ago. Max had forced him to take some home so he could get some actual vitamins into his system. “Do you, uh, smell everything?”
Will’s nostrils twitched, and he threw an apologetic glance at Mike. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Mike winced. He really should’ve cleaned. “Anything else you don’t really… like?”
Will hummed. “Garlic. Flowers.” He looked around, his eyes landing on a dead cactus on the console table. “You do not strike me as a flowers guy, though.”
“Oh, garlic is a dealbreaker, I fear.” Mike was only half-joking.
Will laughed. “I’ve handled it my whole life, so I’ll be fine. My brother practically bathes in that stuff. You asked for dislikes, and I answered.” He sighed. “I’ve got a few of those. I don’t bring them up.”
Mike tilted his head at that. He felt stupid for it, but for the first time ever, he seemed to realize how much sacrifice must go into adjusting into a world that frowned upon you.
“I should show you the room,” he said.
A sigh of relief passed Will’s lips, his shoulders dropping slightly. His expression remained uncertain. “Yes, please.”
Mike guided him through the apartment, then. Will followed mostly wordlessly, just let Mike explain and occasionally asked about stuff. Like the density of the walls, the fridge-sharing situation, and if the sun fell through the windows in the afternoons. It felt normal. Mike almost forgot he was giving a quick tour to a hybrid. Almost, because Will’s ears and tail kept catching his attention, moving and flicking and seemingly adjusting to every single one of Will’s emotions.
“So, here we are.” They were done within ten minutes. The apartment was no penthouse, after all.
They were standing by the coffee table now, and Will’s gaze wandered across the apartment once more. When his eyes dropped to the coffee table, his reaction sent a jolt through Mike’s body. Will’s ears poked up, sharply tilting forward. His tail lifted behind him, flicking twice before the tip turned into a hook —a sharp curve, like a question mark.
Mike followed Will’s gaze, and his eyes landed straight (or not so much) on the issue of Honcho he’d deliberately left out.
Shit.
Mike didn’t dare to look back at Will. He suddenly felt way too exposed. Neither of them moved. Both stared at the magazine. The cover showed a man in a leather vest, his jeans pulled down far enough to reveal leather briefs, the man shoving three fingers under the seams.
In bright pink lettering, one headline screamed:
SOCKS, JOCKS, & MEATY C**KS!
Jesus fucking Christ. Mike couldn’t believe he left that on the table.
He was mortified.
Will broke the silence by clearing his throat and bringing his hands together in a loud clap. He turned back to Mike. “Okay!” He exclaimed. “Thanks for the tour.”
When Mike returned the gaze, he noticed a deep flush on Will’s cheeks, which darkened the freckles. He tried to calm his breath, his sweaty hands turned to fists on his sides.
Mike wanted to thank Will for not making it weird, or more than it already was, but that would have made it even weirder, wouldn’t it have? His eyes darted through the room, trying to find an anchor, something he could bring up to change the topic that hung unspoken between them. They got stuck on the dining table, which was really just a folding table and mismatching chairs he got at a yard sale. Yes, sitting. Sitting would be good. Sitting would be chill.
“Uh, do you want to sit?” He looked at Will, pointing toward the awkward folding table, noticing his ears were still tilted forward, but his tail was swaying low behind him now.
Will nodded. “Yeah, right. We wanted to talk.” Will’s eyes shifted to the chairs, then to the couch, and finally, to Mike. “Do you mind if we sit on the couch? These chairs look… uncomfortable.”
“God, that’s because they are,” Mike groaned. “Sure, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Let me just, uh, put this away.” He reached for the magazine and rolled it up, pretending it wasn’t burning his hands. “Do you, uh, maybe want something to drink?”
The blush that had previously faded from Will’s cheeks settled again. “Yeah, uh, do you have milk? I mean, if that’s cool. If not, I'll just have water.”
“I’ll check,” Mike said, pointing the magazine toward Will and immediately wincing at his own gesture. “Shit, sorry.”
Mike opened the fridge and, in his anxiety, placed the magazine on a nearly empty shelf. He made a mental note to get an actual load of groceries after classes tonight. He reached for the bottle of milk he’d bought for guests the week prior, unsure if it had gone sour. Mike took a whiff, figured it was still enjoyable, then poured a glass and grabbed himself a bottle of water before heading back to the couch.
He stopped mid-step when he turned around.
Will had taken off his shoes and was now kneeling on the couch, his upper body draped over the backrest, tail lazily hanging off the side, his ears tilted slightly forward. He looked back at Mike, and whatever relaxation had been on his face drained into something more cautious. His mouth twisted and his gaze dropped, as though he’d just been caught doing something illegal.
“Sorry,” Will mumbled. He scrambled to get into a different position, crossed his legs on the cushioning and pulled his upper body from the backrest to sit up straight.
“It’s okay,” Mike responded as he got back to him, handing him the glass of milk. “Are you— Is that more comfortable?”
“Sometimes.” Will nodded, accepting the glass of milk. “It doesn’t put pressure on my tail.”
Mike’s eyes flickered toward Will’s tail. He seemed to be sitting on the base now, its length draped across Will’s lap, the tip lying flat against the denim of his jeans.
“You can do that, if it makes you feel better.” Mike slumped into the cushioning. “I don’t mind.”
Will shook his head. “It’s fine.” He took a sip of the milk, his brows furrowing, nose scrunching as he swallowed. When he felt Mike’s gaze on him with a questioning expression, he smiled. “I’m not going to complain. You have questions.”
Mike hummed. “You just want me to ask?”
“Yes, how else am I supposed to answer them?”
Mike shifted in his spot. Maybe he should drop some of the questions racing in his brain and invest in a guide for cat hybrids. “Some of this might sound really stupid and… ignorant.”
“I know. But how will you learn if you don’t get these questions answered?” Will tilted his head, his ears were fully turned to Mike now. “I’ll answer everything as honestly as possible, I promise.”
“Not all of them may be relevant for the possible roommate situation,” Mike said then, feeling a little embarrassed.
“That’s okay.” Will didn’t break eye contact when he lapped his tongue over the rim of his glass, stopping a single drop of milk from sliding down the surface and landing in his lap. The nose scrunch was barely noticeable, but Mike caught it.
“Okay,” he started, “then my first question is: what’s wrong with the milk?”
“I said I won’t complain.”
“No, but I’m asking.”
Will sighed. “It’s skimmed. I prefer whole.”
“Noted,” Mike said. “Okay, uh, I assume you don’t use a litter box?”
“Oh,” Will shot back, one side of his mouth curling up, “I do. And you should see my cat tree, it’s massive. And sometimes you’ll hear me gagging for, like, five minutes, before I throw up on the carpet.
Will’s tail was playfully wiggling in his lap.
Mike squinted, feeling the corners of his mouth curl up. “Are you fucking with me?”
“Nope, dead serious,” Will responded, but he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on his face. One of his ears twitched. “No closed doors, ever. I’ll watch you poop and curl my tail around your boxers. Also, you can’t place my food and water bowl next to each other, I’ll either starve or dehydrate.”
Mike laughed. An honest, real laugh that he exhaled through his nose and made his chest shake.
“Thanks for clearing that up before I asked the real stupid questions.”
Will giggled. “Like, whether I actually use food bowls on the floor?”
“Precisely,” Mike responded. There’s a comfortable silence for a couple of heartbeats, before Mike speaks again. “I think, what I need to know is, how can I accommodate you?”
Will startled. His ears flicked once, twice, then another time. He caught the tip of his tail which had started flicking rapidly, and kept it in place with his palm. Will seemed like no one had ever asked him that question. He pondered for a moment, his eyes boring into the cushioning of the couch.
Will tilted his head when he looked back at Mike, his lips pursed. “I think you just need to accept having me around and doing weird things, I don’t know.”
“Weird things?”
Will nodded. “Like draping my body over the backrest of the couch. Laying in sunny spots in front of the windows. I think… some things I do are a bit awkward to talk about.”
“Well,” Mike said, “I’m talking about things that may make me uncomfortable. You can drop the rest. Hey, if you watch TV doing a handstand, I don’t care.”
Will chuckled, then his voice dropped again. “I, uh, still suck my thumbs sometimes. It’s a sensory thing, it grounds me. I don’t wear pants at home, usually, don’t look at me like that, I’m keeping the boxers on. And I prefer drinking water from the running tap.”
Will’s ears lay nearly flat on his head now. Mike figured it was a sign of discomfort.
“So, no door scratching, no loud meowing in the middle of the night?”
“Hey, we don’t meow,” Will shot back. “I mean, I don’t. I’m not sure about others my kind. Oh, but I do purr, when I’m comfortable, mostly. I rarely hiss, though, so that’s a win.”
Mike couldn’t tell whether that last sentence had been serious or not. He seemed genuine, but there was a soft smile on his face.
Mike was surprised by how normal this conversation felt. And even more surprised at the fact that he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable.
“Okay, anything else?”
Will shrugged. “Honestly, there’s probably plenty more. But I’ve never lived with anyone but my family, and they just accepted it. So, if I ever do something you’re not cool with, you can just say it. As I said, I can adjust.”
“Okay, cool.” Mike clicked his tongue. His voice softened. “Are they hybrids, too? Your family?”
“No.” Will shook his head, and Mike noticed his ears were slightly pointed upward again. “My dad was, I mean, he is. We don’t talk anymore. My mom’s human. Jonathan, my brother, he kind of got lucky and skipped the genes.”
Mike couldn’t help but feel something twist in his chest. He watched as Will’s jaw tightened and his finger traced the rim of his glass. Suddenly, Mike had so many more questions. He wanted to know what it was like for Will, growing up in a human family. Wanted to know how he managed to adjust in a world where everyone frowned upon people like him. But Mike figured this was neither the time nor the place.
“Do you have any questions for me?”
Will looked up from the glass, eyebrows raised. The tip of his tail twitched against his jeans. “Yes. Rent. There aren’t any hidden costs, right? Because that’s a lot of money.”
“Everything’s included,” Mike responded. “Gas, electricity, water, garbage disposal, the telephone. It is a lot, but really, this is New York. Go any lower and we’d live in a shoebox. Also, the landlord is chill, he shows up like once every quarter to check in on things.”
“Do you think he’d… mind me?” Will’s ears drooped again.
Mike shook his head. “He owns a couple apartments here. There’s a hybrid in one of the upper floors. I talked to him once because neither of us could reach the landlord and we panicked because the radiator was cut off.” He shrugged. “I think he doesn’t give a damn about who lives here, as long as the bills are paid on time.”
“That’s good,” Will breathed. “Okay, second question. Do you have friends?”
“I… do.” This question confused Mike.
“How’d they react to me living with you?” Will straightened his back. His ears were upright, and his tail lifted from his jeans. The way it stood now reminded Mike of a flag raised high.
“Uh.” He took a minute to think about an honest response that would not come across as too alerting. “They’re a lot like me, I think. We were all raised to be… cautious.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Will looked doubtful.
“I mean, their reactions would not be very good at first, honestly.” Mike nervously shifted in his spot. “But they’d have to accept it, right? “None of them would, like, cut me off for that.”
Will’s eyebrows twitched, one of his ears tilting backward. “Okay,” he sighed. “Last question. How good are my chances you’ll actually let me live here?”
Mike was taken aback by how straightforward Will was now, but he couldn’t really blame him. He’d stated before how badly he needed a place to stay for college, and as the start of his first term grew closer, Mike could imagine how anxious he got about his current situation.
“I’d say not bad,” he stated eventually. “Let me think about it during classes. I’ll give you a ring as soon as I get back, okay?”
“Promise me.”
“Huh?”
“Promise me you’ll call. Even if it’s a no.” Will was almost begging now. “This is my last attempt, and I think I deserve knowing whether my future is screwed.”
“Oh.” Mike’s heart dropped to his stomach. “Of course, yeah. I promise.”
Will studied his face for a second, his tail going completely still. Maybe he was trying to figure out if Mike meant it.
Then he nodded and slid off the couch.
Mike walked him to the door.
“Thank you, by the way,” Will said when Mike opened the door. When Mike looked back at him, puzzled, Will smiled and gently put his hand on Mike’s upper arm, giving it a slight squeeze. His ears were upright, twitching. “For giving me a chance.”
Mike only managed a nod, feeling electrified by the touch. He watched as Will left, letting the door fall shut behind him, and when he was alone again, he couldn’t peel his eyes off the wooden surface.
A few ragged breaths left his mouth as the tension slipped back into his body. That was when he realized it hadn’t been there while Will was here.
Mike hadn’t felt uncomfortable or scared. Will’s presence had almost been… chill. Mike felt like they’d been eye-to-eye, two guys that got along surprisingly well during an apartment viewing. Mike had asked, Will had answered, even managed to joke around with him. He’d been normal. And honestly? Will was a strong contender for the room now — not that he had much competition. And yes, sure, he’d been draped over the backrest of the couch there, but Mike couldn’t say it was off-putting. If anything, he’d found it somewhat… endearing.
Mike realized his decision was already made.
He didn’t care what his parents would say. Or his friends. He’d deal with them later.
He didn’t need the day.
He’d call Will as soon as he got back tonight.
