Archive of Our Own

Mike was convinced that perfect compatibility was a myth. 

It was a fictional concept, right up there with fire-breathing dragons and a functioning sleep schedule. The idea of sitting across from a total stranger and miraculously finding someone who understood the shape of your life felt impossible. As far as Mike was concerned, his odds of securing that kind of connection were hovering somewhere around absolute zero.

The only reason Mike was even out in the wild tonight was because Dustin had relentlessly badgered him into a date with a girl from his class. After shooting the idea down no less than twenty times, Mike figured suffering through one dinner might get Dustin off his back.

And maybe he’d agreed to it because Will just so happened to have a date of his own…

Mike always made sure to abandon ship the minute Will started getting ready for a date. His usual avoidance strategy involved taking a long, pathetic walk to mope the streets of New York City while the love of his life was out getting wooed by some nobody.

He knew before he’d even stepped out of his and Will’s apartment that it wasn’t going to work with Allison. Maybe because he’s a walking pride parade… or maybe it was because she wasn’t him.

Dustin doesn’t know that Mike’s gay, so he can’t even be upset with him for trying to set him up. Mike desperately wants to be open and free about his sexuality — like Will is — but he isn’t sure where to even start.

He shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, the air rushing past him as he took the long way home. The air still held the clean scent of the spring rain that had washed the city earlier in the day. 

Mike felt guilty for agreeing to go on the date in the first place, because he’d just wasted Allison’s time. She was a great person, seriously. When they’d laughed about their weird college professors or the change from growing up in a small town to moving to a huge city, it was like they connected so well. The emotional, platonic connection was there. 

But the second she decided to transition from casual banter to probing, serious romance, the entire night had flatlined.

It happened while he was mid-chew. She’d leaned across the table, her perfectly manicured index finger reaching out to trace the sensitive skin of his inner wrist. A wave of irritation surged through him and he’d barely suppressed the urge to yank his arm back, his skin crawling at the uninvited intrusion.

Allison touched his tattoo, which was of three small hearts in a line next to each other. She’d smiled, her eyes fluttering expectantly, and asked what it meant. 

Mike nearly lost both of his sisters before they’d defeated Vecna, and ever since then, the three of them bonded more than they’d ever have. He’d wanted something to be a constant reminder that, even when he feels alone, he has Nancy and Holly, no matter what.

When Mike pulled his arm away and given Allison a half-assed answer about it, “Three hearts for the three siblings,” he’d known the ‘date’ was irreparably dead. He couldn’t even stand to explain a single piece of himself to her — he didn’t want to.

Mike’s four tattoos are special to him. They all have their deeper meanings, but they’re also a Tuesday afternoon in his living room floor, the memory of Will’s warm fingers wrapping firmly around his wrist, or arm, to hold him steady. It was Will’s focused eyes narrowing in concentration as he meticulously mapped out the designs with a pen. It was also the hours they’d spent discussing the meaning behind each of them.

He looked up. The dark sky was pushed back by the warm amber glow of the streetlamps reflecting across the wet pavement. He walked past a couple, two older men holding hands and laughing. All he could think of was Will, and how he just wanted that with him.

Mike was forced to admit that romantic compatibility wasn’t something you could force, nor fake, no matter how great the simple, platonic conversation was. He simply couldn’t ignore the fact that he was completely gay as fuck.

Mike pulled his keys from his pocket with a heavy sigh. He jammed them into the apartment lock with a bit more force than necessary, desperate to put a physical barrier between himself and the disaster of an evening. 

He was ready to drop his jacket on the floor, collapse into the dark, and rot in misery until Will got home. 

Mike shoved the door open, the scowl on his face vanishing. He expected an empty, dark apartment, but he was hit by the soft glow of the corner lamp, the scent of greasy pepperoni, and the sight of Will relaxing on the couch. He was in his jeans and a half-unbuttoned, oversized flannel, staring back at him with amusement. 

“You’re back early.” Will’s voice floated over the back of the couch. “How’d it go?”

Mike stepped further into the living room. “Uh— it was fine. Why’re you back so early?”

“I never left.” Will lifted his half-eaten slice of pizza into the air as evidence. “I cancelled.”

Goddamnit.

Mike let his jacket slide off his shoulders, looking down at the ink that marked his left arm as it fell, mourning the fact that he could have been here, in his sweatpants, eating cheap pizza with Will instead of fucking suffering. 

Mike the Brave, a gift Will handed him at the end of their freshmen year of college as a reward for simply surviving it. Naturally, Mike had immediately sprinted with the drawing to the nearest tattoo parlor to get it permanently branded into his skin.

He’d done the same thing for all four of the tattoos that Will had drawn… Though Will had no idea the fourth one even existed. That’s a problem for another time. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mike groaned, crossing the room to flop dramatically onto the cushions next to Will. He sank into the worn fabric. “I wouldn’t have gone.”

“Exactly. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” Will bumped his shoulder against Mike’s. “You never get out, Mike. Besides, me and my paint had a great night. Very romantic.”

Mike snorted, stealing a glance at Will. He looked so comfortable, swallowed by his flannel, his eyes crinkling, the soft skin of his chest showing. 

“Why’d you cancel on the guy? Are you not feeling well? Did you decide you didn’t like him? This was only your third date—”

“Mike!” Will laughed, playfully shoving the cardboard box towards him. “Eat the last slice.”

Mike took it with a grateful smile, even if it was given to shut him up.

“I just figured I shouldn’t lead him on,” Will continued, his smile fading. “I knew from the second date that it wasn’t gonna work. No point in forcing it.”

Mike took a bite of the pizza and looked down, chewing slowly as the words hit a little too close to home. 

Will tilted his head, studying Mike’s rigid posture. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah— yeah. Of course.” Mike took another bite to prevent himself from blurting out something stupid. He chewed, swallowed past the lump in his throat, and gestured vaguely with his crust. “I just… I understand what you mean. It’s better not to lead people on when the connection just isn’t there.”

Mike felt a surge of guilt wash over him. He didn’t want to lead anyone on, and having gone on that date tonight was doing exactly that.

Will settled deeper into the cushions, pulling his sleeves over his knuckles, though the movement wasn’t quite enough to hide the stubborn little flecks of paint Mike noticed lodged beneath his nails and scattered across his fingertips. “So… your date. Just fine?”

“Just fine,” Mike repeated, leaning his head back against the rim of the couch and staring up at the ceiling. 

“What does that mean?”

Mike blew out a breath, turning his head to look at Will. “It means— I probably won’t see her again. And that’s for the best. Mostly for her sake.”

Will let out a bright giggle, the sound instantly unraveling a knot in Mike’s chest that he hadn’t even realized was there. “Oh, come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“We just weren’t…” Mike waved a hand in the air. “Compatible.”

“Oh.” Will tilted his head, his messy hair falling across his forehead. “In what way?”

Mike looked at him questioningly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, different kinds of relationships have different kinds of compatibility,” Will explained. “Like— you can be sexually compatible with someone, but not emotionally.”

Mike pitched forward, coughing as his brain momentarily short-circuited at the casual drop of the word sexually leaving Will’s mouth. He grabbed Will’s half-empty can of Coke from the table, downing a large sip. 

When he finally managed to compose himself, Will was laughing at him. “Yeah go ahead, you can have a sip,” Will giggled with a glare that didn’t have any bite in it.

Mike shook his head and wiped a stray drop of soda from his chin. “I’d say it was the opposite of that, actually.”

Will calmed his laughter, but his eyes were still bright. “So… emotionally compatible, but not sexually?”

“Or romantically,” Mike clarified quickly… maybe too quickly. 

“Or romantically…” Will echoed, nodding slowly. 

Mike shifted on the couch. The space between them felt too vast for Mike’s liking, despite only being a few inches. Without overthinking it — because if he overthought it, he would stop — Mike reached out, hooked his hands under Will’s calves, and pulled Will’s legs across his own lap. He adjusted them like a heavy blanket, letting his hands rest on Will’s shins. 

Will didn’t bat an eye or stiffen or pull away. It’s not unusual for the two of them to sit all tangled up in each other. 

“She was cool,” Mike continued, his thumb subconsciously tracing the hem of Will’s jeans. “But it felt like we were just two friends hanging out. Like me and Jane— though it took me way longer to figure that out with Jane, obviously… But as soon as Allison started talking about serious stuff— like intimacy and the future… I just wanted to run away.”

“Oh, God,” Will laughed to himself, shaking his head and looking down at his own lap.

“What?” Mike couldn’t help but laugh too. 

“You don’t have a poker face, Mike.” Will finally looked back up. “Your thoughts were probably written all over your face.”

“They probably were,” Mike agreed, rolling his eyes at himself because he knew Will was right. “A massive, neon sign right on my forehead that says—”

I’m in love with my best friend, I’m a raging homosexual, and I would rather be eating cold pizza with him than sitting at a fancy restaurant with you.

“—Not interested.” Will smiled, completely unaware of the crisis happening in front of him.

“Sure.” Mike gave Will’s legs a squeeze. “I wouldn’t have gone if I knew you were gonna be home. I try get out of the apartment when you have a date—”

“What? Why? You don’t have to do that,” Will interrupted him. 

“What if you wanted to bring a guy home?” Mike shot back while throwing his hands up in mock defense. “I wanted to give you privacy for your passionate, romantic conquests.”

“Me?” Will pointed a finger at his own chest, his jaw dropping in theatrical offense. “You think I’m the type of guy to bring someone home on the first date?” 

Mike narrowed his eyes. “Third date…”

“Same thing!”

“You must run a strict program. No kisses on the first date, and certainly no bringing anyone home for S-E-X.”

Will covered his face with his hands, groaning loudly into his palms. 

Mike just adores him. 

He peaked out through the gaps. “Well, definitely no sex. I’m an honest to God virgin.”

Mike sighed dramatically, throwing his hand into the air, palm facing Will. “Same.”

Will let out a breathless laugh, slapping his hand against Mike’s in a high-five. His palm was warm, the brief contact sending a jolt up Mike’s arm. 

“But…” Will pulled his hand back and groaned again. “I kissed him on the second date. Zero stars.”

Mike’s eyes widened, his posture straightening up as he tried to ignore the sting in his chest. “Wait. You didn’t tell me you had your first kiss. Come on, Will! You can’t withhold that sacred information from me!”

“Oh, God. Because it was awful!” Will whined, dragging his hands down his cheeks. “I didn’t know what I was doing, and his tongue was just… poking into my mouth! Like a wet pickle or something gross. I never want to think about it again.”

Mike threw his head back and let out a loud laugh. “Like a pickle? Oh my god. Gross.”

“Tell me about it,” Will sighed, shivering dramatically at the memory. “I never want to kiss anyone ever again.”

“Oh, come on.” Mike argued, a soft smile breaking through his laughter. “It was just the wrong person, Will. Don’t let pickle-guy ruin it for you.”

“Gross!” Will yelled, kicking his foot playfully against Mike’s side. 

Will wiped a hand down his face. “Well, whatever. Pickle tongues aside… He didn’t understand me. None of the guys I’ve gone out with have, and I don’t even blame them.”

Mike rested his hands over Will’s shins again. He let his thumb brush back and forth across the denim. He looked over at Will, a flash of understanding crossing his features. “I think it’s difficult when we can’t talk about our past. It’s hard to let someone in to truly understand us when we have to leave out a huge chunk of our childhood.”

“Yeah,” Will breathed out. “But it’s not just that. I know a big part of who I am is because of my past, but none of these guys seem to care about the present me either, let alone the past.”

Will dragged a hand through his hair, frustration leaking into his tone. “It’s like they just want something casual, a quick hookup or for me to feel their gross pickle tongue. They want the fun parts without having to do the work of actually knowing me.”

“You don’t deserve that, Will.” Mike’s fingers paused on Will’s shins to give a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, they should want to feel your pickle tongue, too.”

Will shook his head, though a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

“But seriously— I’m sorry, Will,” Mike said, his voice dropping into something softer. His thumb went back to drawing lazy circles on Will’s ankle. 

Will just let out a heavy, defeated sigh.

Mike stopped the motion of his thumb. He reached up and caught the fabric of his t-shirt, moving the sleeve up his shoulder to reveal the ink etched into his skin.

“You remember the advice you gave me when you drew this?” Mike asked quietly. “The weeping willow?”

Will blinked, his eyes tracing the familiar linework on Mike’s arm. “The weeping Will-oh,” Will let out a breathy scoff.

“Will-oh isn’t weeping anymore.”

“He sure wants to,” Will laughed, though it was strained. He darted his eyes away.

“Nooo. Come here.” Mike stretched his hand out. 

With a heavy sigh, Will wiped a hand down his face and pulled his legs out from under Mike’s hand, sliding backward slightly on the cushions to tuck his knees in. He shifted until he was sitting cross-legged so he was facing Mike head-on. 

Mike mirrored the action, pulling his own legs up and crossing them, squaring his shoulders so there was nothing but a few inches between them. The rest of the room seemed to fade into the background. They were locked into their own private orbit under the dim light. 

Mike let his sleeve drop and hide his tattoo once again. Will had drawn that when both of them were going through a hard time last year, a physical reminder that it was okay to be sad, that heavy emotions are natural. They’re beautiful and organic and not something that needs to be ashamed of, or hidden.

Last year, when Will was still having his nightmares, he found a weeping willow tree and decided to sit under it, its long branches draped around him like a curtain, shielding him from the rest of the world. 

Will said he’d finally let himself think about everything he’d been trying not to think about — the nightmares, the fear that never seemed to leave, the years he’d lost to things no one his age should’ve gone through. He’d cried, wiped his face, cried again, and didn’t let himself feel guilty for it.

The tree wasn’t a person asking him to be okay, or telling him to move on, it just gave him a place to sit until the worst of it passed. 

After that, he’d found himself going back whenever everything became too much. The willow was his safe place to fall apart without feeling like he was burdening anyone else. 

When he got home after the first day under the tree, he’d opened his sketchbook and drawn it by memory.

Will glared at Mike. “Don’t make me take my own advice right now.”

“Sadness and trauma, it’s all natural,” Mike said, quoting Will’s exact words back to him. “It made you grow into the man you are today.” 

Will rolled his eyes, but they were soft, the tension finally draining out of his spine as he listened to Mike. 

Mike felt a spike of heat in his chest at the mere thought of the guys WIll had gone out with. Fucking bastards. “Anyways, those guys… they don’t deserve you if they don’t want to know you. And maybe not all the details of your childhood, but still! You deserve to be truly known and understood.”

Will blew out a shaky breath, letting the words actually settle over him. A smile spread across his face. “Thanks Mike. I think I might’ve been wiser then, though.”

“Still are.” Mike grinned, reaching across the small gap between them to lightly poke Will’s knee. “Look, we’re still young. The right guy will come along. Maybe he’s just… lurking in the shadows somewhere, trying to find some bravery first.”

“Well, I hope he finds it,” Will smirked. “I don’t need another lurker.”

“Another lurker?”

“Yeah. You’re my other lurker,” Will teased.

Mike scoffed dramatically and crossed his arms over his chest, though he could already feel a traitorous heat flush his cheeks. “I do not lurk.”

“You so lurk.” Will smiled, his nose scrunching. “You hover, too.”

Mike went silent, knowing there’s nothing untrue about what Will’s saying. A helpless smile spread across his face as he looked down at his lap. He let the silence stretch for a comfortable moment, letting his hands fall back to rest over Will’s legs, his fingers fiddling with Will’s ankle. 

He looked back up, his mind still thinking about Will’s dates and how poorly these fucking nobodies were probably treating Will. “You deserve someone who can understand every part of you. Your past and your present.”

Will’s smile faltered and his gaze dropped to where Mike’s hands were. “I won’t get that. We can’t talk about that stuff with anyone outside The Party, Mike.”

Mike looked back down at his lap. He felt an ache in his ribs. He could talk to Will. He wanted to listen, to understand every piece of him. 

Mike knew what Will went through in the Upside Down and the trauma that affected him for years after. Mike was there for Will during the nightmares last year, when Mike was desperately clutching onto Will as he cried. He’d then opened up to Mike about the sickening, unimaginable violation that he’d gone through and hadn’t fully understood until he was much older.

If he could, he’d take all of Will’s pain and everything he went through and put it on himself instead. 

Mike felt angry and sick just thinking about it. He wanted to hold Will and protect him and tell him that he’ll never let anything bad happen to him ever again. Mike would sit through those nightmares a thousand times, and a thousand times more if it meant Will would feel safe, understood and loved. 

He could be that person. He already was that person. 

“You can talk to me,” Mike said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

An almost ancient sadness flashed in Will’s eyes. For a terrifying second, Mike took the silence as rejection. He froze and braced himself for Will to put up a wall. 

But almost as quickly as the sadness came, it vanished. Will reached out and shoved Mike’s shoulder softly, his fingers lingering on the fabric for a moment. 

“You’re not sick of hearing me talk yet?” Will asked. 

“Never,” Mike said honestly.

The golden light shined on Will’s face, highlighting the slope of his nose and the easy, trusting way he held Mike’s gaze. 

“Okay, well, let me lighten the mood,” Mike said, resting his elbows loosely on his knees and looking up at Will through his lashes. “Let me tell you some of the questions I was interrogated with tonight that made me feel like jumping off a cliff.”

Will rested one elbow on his knee and rested his chin in his hand. “Dramatic.”

“Maybe. Realistic, though,” Mike shot back with a playful smile. “First one: What’s your love language?”

Will hummed and looked up at the ceiling, thinking for all of two seconds. “Mine’s physical touch. Second is words of affirmation.”

“I think mine’s the same,” Mike replied softly, the words slipping out effortlessly. “Probably both tied in first place.”

Huh.

That came a lot easier to him with Will, which he isn’t too surprised about. 

At the restaurant, when Allison asked him that, his mind had gone completely blank. He’d felt trapped and suffocated by the idea of giving her access to how he needed to be loved. 

Will tilted his head and scrunched his nose. Cute. He had a teasing glint in his eyes. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? The window’s open if you wanna jump?”

“I’m not even a little bit tempted to,” Mike said honestly. His gaze dropped to Will’s shoulder where his flannel had slipped off, exposing the soft skin there. Mike swallowed hard and brought his eyes back up to meet Will’s.

“What else did she ask you?” Will asked. 

Mike groaned and threw his head back for a dramatic second before looking back at Will. “She asked me where I saw myself in five years. Like it was some fucking job interview.”

“Wow.” Will huffed out a laugh. “How does that even come up naturally?”

“It didn’t! That’s the worst part,” Mike explained, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I was literally mid-bite when she asked.”

“What were you eating?”

“Just pasta. We were at an Italian place downtown.”

Will’s smile widened into a full grin, clearly picturing it. “So, you just had spaghetti falling out of your mouth—”

“Sauce on my chin.”

Will laughed. “—Sauce on your chin, and she’s sitting across from you, like, Michael, to secure this position, I need to know your five year trajectory.”

Mike snorted and leaned forward. He puffed his cheeks out, pretending to have a mouth full of food, and muffled his voice to mimic his panic from earlier. “Erm— writing— book— good partner— don’t hire me—”

Will threw his head back and laughed, this sweet, bright sound that made Mike’s chest feel warm. “Good answer. Did you get the job?”

“I fucking hope not.” Mike shook his head and picked at a loose thread on Will’s jeans. “I mean, I tried to answer honestly, even though I hadn’t really thought about it. It felt like an obvious thing to me. I know what I want.” 

Mike looked up at Will.

“Well, she doesn’t know you, Mike.” Will giggled. “It’s not an insane question to ask.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I’m just grumpy. It was just… not a great night.”

“You don’t look grumpy right now.”

Mike met Will’s eyes once again. “Well— not anymore.”

Will smiled before looking down at his lap. “I don’t know where I want to be in five years. That question would’ve thrown me for a loop on the first date.”

“We don’t need to have it all figured out right now.”

“You seem to have it all figured out,” Will noted, looking at him through his lashes.

“Oh, please,” Mike huffed. “My answer was as basic as it could get. It’s like a fantasy novel dream.”

“Okay.” Will cleared his throat. “I’ll give you my fantasy novel dream.”

Mike straightened up, failing to hide his excitement. 

Will reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a piece of crust from the empty pizza box. Mike smirked at Will as he stuffed the piece into his mouth and chewed for a second before speaking around the food. “Job— Apartment— Boyfriend—”

Mike burst into laughter, the sound echoing around the room. Will swallowed the crust with a grimace, shaking his head with a slight flush dusting his cheeks. 

“Okay,” Mike let out a breath to calm his laughter. “Your turn. I can’t bear to go through any more of my questions.”

“You only did two.” Will glared with a smirk.

“Two too many.” 

Will scrunched his nose. “Ugh, mine are just as bad, if not worse,” he groaned.

“Try me.”

Will sighed. “Hmm…” He cleared his throat and dropped his tone to something more serious. “How much commitment are you expecting from me?”

Mike felt sick. “What the hell! What does that even mean!”

“It means he didn’t want my expectations to be too high. Probably implying he just wanted to hookup.” Will shrugged. “Which is exactly why I cancelled.”

Mike shook his head, feeling very fucking angry. Who wouldn’t want commitment with Will? That’s insane! 

Mike pushed the anger aside, desperate to get a smile back on Will’s face. “So… you’re a romantic.” Mike wiggled his eyebrows. 

Will rolled his eyes, but a shy smile broke across his face. “Come on, Mike. Aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Mike answered immediately and held eye contact.

The space between them too felt small again. Mike reached out across the small gap between their crossed legs and placed his hand on top of Will’s knee. “I’m sorry he didn’t want that with you. It’s his loss. Truly.”

Will’s posture softened. “Thanks, Mike.” He pulled the sleeves of his flannel up towards his elbows, exposing the skin of his forearms. 

Mike dropped his head and let his gaze travel from his hand resting on Will’s knee, to Will’s forearms, and then to meet Will’s eyes.

Mike felt something in the very centre of his chest crumble, falling apart in the best, most terrifying way possible at the look on Will’s face. 

He was so beautiful.

Even in the dim lighting of their cheap college apartment, Will was all things light and golden. He was the sun. His eyes were wide and soft, framed by the messy hair that Mike always had the desperate urge to brush away from his forehead. 

Mike moved his hand from Will’s knee. He let his fingertips find the skin of Will’s forearm. Will just watched, a quiet curiosity in his eyes. 

He looked down at the canvas of Will’s forearm, taking in all the tiny scattered freckles and few moles dotting his skin. He started tracing them, one by one, and Will seemed to relax at the touch. 

Will had a whole constellation dotting his skin that Mike had subconsciously memorized over the years of sitting exactly like this. Mike looked at the delicate slope of Will’s wrist, the warmth radiating from his skin beneath Mike’s cool fingertips, and thought, with unshakeable certainty, that Will was the most incredible man in the world. Beautiful inside and out.

“Um…” Will started, his voice a little strained. “I don’t think I want to go on another date ever again.”

Mike’s face dropped. The idea of Will resigning himself to a life without romance, without the grand gestures and deep love he so obviously deserved, made Mike’s stomach twist. “You will.” Is all Mike said. Because he will take Will on a date. He will give Will the love he deserves and so much more.

Mike continued tracing against the moles on Will’s skin, drawing invisible lines between them. His eyes felt a little bit glossy with the weight of how much love was currently swelling between his chest.

“What—” Will started, his voice soft. He looked down at Mike’s hand gliding so effortlessly over his skin, his eyebrows furrowing. “What’re you doing?”

“Tracing. It’s like little constellations.”

Will blinked, a breathless laugh escaping him. “What?”

“Your skin. All your moles and freckles, they’re— uh, like little constellations. It’s kind of soothing.” Mike paused his hand, suddenly hyper-aware of how intimate the action was. Panic flared in his gut. “Sorry— I can stop.”

“No,” Will interrupted him quickly, catching Mike’s wrist before he could pull away. He placed Mike’s hand exactly where it was. “It’s okay. I like it.”

Physical touch. Will’s love language. Mike swallowed hard. “Okay.”

Mike continued, letting his finger drag a light path across Will’s forearm. A reckless surge of confidence, or maybe just adoration, spiked through him. “I bet I could trace over them with my eyes closed.”

Will let out a bright giggle. “You wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Wanna bet?” Mike challenged, leaning in just a fraction of an inch closer.

“Totally.” Will grinned, shifting his arm slightly to give Mike better access. “Close your eyes.”

Mike closed his eyes. 

All Mike could see was darkness, and the idea struck him. 

He could show Will just how much he understood him.

He started at Will’s wrist. He knew exactly where the first mole sat, resting just above the protruding bone. He let his finger hover over the warmth of Will’s skin, finding the exact position. He pressed his fingertip softly into the spot to show Will he found it. “Here.”

Will laughed, an amused sound. “You’d just been looking at that one. That’s lucky.”

A smile spread across Mike’s face. He moved his hand up Will’s arm, his touch slow and delicate. He knew where he was going. He found the three freckles clustered together near the centre of Will’s forearm. They sat in an almost perfect triangle.

He touched the first one. Then the second. Then the third. “Three here. In a little triangle.”

It sounded like Will’s breath caught in his throat, but Mike couldn’t tell. “Still— um. Lucky,” Will said, but the giggling had vanished. His voice sounded strained.

Mike knew it wasn’t luck. It was years of devotion and unwavering attention. “Okay,” Mike whispered. “Lift your arm up a little bit.”

He heard the rustle of fabric as Will listened to Mike’s request. Mike moved his hand, sliding his fingertips underneath Will’s flannel and around the curve of Will’s arm. He slipped underneath his bicep, where the skin was impossibly soft and sensitive. He felt Will shiver. He placed his fingertip directly on the tiny, hidden spot. “Here.”

Will slowly lowered his arm back down, trapping Mike’s hand gently against his side for a fleeting second. “I’ve never seen one there.”

“Well, you can’t see the back of your arm.” Mike laughed, a part of his brain screaming at him to open his eyes, to confess, to tell Will the reason he knew every inch of him was because he was hopelessly in love with him.

Mike kept his eyes closed.

Moving on instinct, Mike reached blindly with his free hand to find Will’s hand resting on his knee. He took Will’s hand, gently guiding it to where Mike’s fingertip was still resting underneath Will’s bicep. He replaced his fingertip with Will’s. “Feel it?” Mike asked. 

“Um.” Will swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah I feel it.”

Mike hummed, a low vibration in his chest. He didn’t let go of Will’s hand right away, allowing their fingers to rest together against Will’s skin for a moment.

He slowly pulled his own hand out from underneath Will’s flannel to continue his path.

He took a deep breath then moved his hand to Will’s collarbone. He traced it gently before moving to Will’s neck where two small freckles sat, right along the sensitive line where his pulse beat rapidly.

Mike’s hand hovered, feeling the erratic rhythm of Will’s heartbeat. It matched his own pulse perfectly.

Delicately, so delicate it was barely a breath, Mike’s finger grazed over both of them. “Two here.”

Will let out a shaky breath that washed hotly over Mike’s arm. 

Mike’s hand moved again, tracing the line of Will’s jaw and dragging softly over his cheek. He paused there for a fraction of a second, his thumb resting gently against Will’s cheekbone, marveling at how perfectly his hand fit against the curve of Will’s face.

Then, Mike slowly let his thumb brush downward. He paused directly on the tiny mole situated just above Will’s lip. “Here. My favorite one.” Mike whispered, the words tumbling out before he could stop himself.

Will’s breath hitched. “How did you—” 

Mike slowly opened his eyes.

Will was staring at him, his eyes blown wide and dark. His lips were parted slightly when Mike looked down. 

Mike took a shaky breath, his eyes locking back onto Will’s. He dropped his finger to brush Will’s bottom lip, and he felt Will inhale sharply.

“I know you,” Mike said, his voice raw, stripped of all pretense and heavy with the truth of it. Every ounce of fear was gone. “I understand you.” 

Will stared at him as Mike moved his hand away from Will’s mouth to cup his cheek. Will looked speechless and Mike felt a flicker of doubt flare through him. 

His internal alarm bells were deafening. He wanted to pull back, to retreat, to run away and turn away to his room. 

But he didn’t pull back.

“Mike,” Will whispered.

Mike’s heart slammed against his chest. Once. Twice. A bruising rhythm. He watched Will’s eyes dart between his own, then down to his lips once before looking back up. “I—” Mike choked. “I’m sorry,” Mike whispered quickly, pulling his hand back into his own lap. Panic flooded his veins, icy and sharp. He’d ruined it. He misread the moment, misread the easy conversation, pushed too hard. 

“Don’t.” Will breathed. “Don’t apologize.”

Mike shook his head as he felt sickeningly self-conscious. He looked down at his lap, but before he could ramble or totally freak out—

“I guess you do understand me,” Will said softly. He reached out, his hand gently hooking under Mike’s chin to make him look up. 

Mike met Will’s eyes. 

A small, almost shy smile was planted on Will’s face. He leaned in and squinted at Mike playfully. “How did you know where each of them were?”

Mike let out the breath he was holding and leaned in a little bit too. “I guess I am a lurker,” he scoffed playfully. 

Will’s smile softened and his eyes looked impossibly bright. “You have three eyes.” He giggled.

Mike let out a surprised laugh. “What?”

Will’s hand came up slowly. Mike didn’t break eye contact, but it felt like his world tilted when he traced his tattoo on his wrist. His touch was so soft and delicate, he moved his fingertip along the three hearts, then up along the sword. Mike shivered and his eyes shut for a brief moment before opening again to look at Will. 

Will cupped his cheek. “I accidentally squinted and saw three eyes,” he whispered. 

His eyes darted between Will’s. He couldn’t form a response with Will holding his face so tenderly. 

Will’s hand moved and Mike almost whined at the loss. He placed a finger directly above the bridge of Mike’s nose, right between his eyebrows. “Here.”

Mike’s eyes dropped to Will’s lips.

The room went still. 

Mike moved first. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of Will’s neck. Will shivered. 

Mike’s palm wrapped firmly around the nape of his neck, his fingers sliding deep into Will’s hair.

Will surged forward and kissed him.

He pulled back almost instantly. His eyes darted frantically between Mike’s, searching his face for shock, for anger. 

Mike didn’t let the panic last.

His grip in Will's hair tightened, and he pulled Will right back in, crashing their mouths together again.

Mike poured everything he had into it, kissing Will with a messy, open desperation.

Will’s hands scrambled to keep up, flying everywhere. He flattened his palms against Mike’s chest, definitely feeling the frantic rhythm of Mike's heart beneath his shirt, before his fingers pushed up to tangle into Mike’s curls.

Mike’s free hand dropped to Will’s waist. He gripped his sides, trying to pull him closer. 

Will shifted his weight, swung his leg over, and climbed directly into Mike’s lap.

Mike let out a ragged breath into the kiss and Will swallowed the sound, pressing himself impossibly closer, entirely consumed by the warmth and the friction. They stayed like that for a long time, kissing each other, until their lungs demanded air.

Will pulled back slowly and dropped his head to rest against the crook of Mike’s neck.

"Wow," Mike breathed out, his chest rising and falling heavily as he looked at Will.

"Yeah," Will whispered against his collarbone. "Wow."

Will finally lifted his head. He reached up, his fingers gently brushing a messy curl out of Mike’s eyes. 

Will’s face was flushed, his lips red, and Mike could feel the burning heat radiating across his own cheeks.

Mike held his gaze, his expression shifting into something soft. "I understand you, Will," he said quietly.

A bright, bubbly laugh bloomed from Will's lips, washing away the last lingering traces of Mike’s anxiety. 

Mike let out a soft giggle in return, a wide smile breaking across his face.

"I can see that," Will murmured, his thumb lightly tracing Mike's cheekbone. "No wonder I had such a huge crush on you in high school."

Mike froze. It felt like his lungs stopped working. 

Crush. On you. High School.

He shook his head, refusing to blink. He couldn’t break eye contact, his face slack with disbelief. “No you didn’t.” The words slipped out as a whisper. 

“Of course I did,” Will giggled, the sound light and airy.

“Will—” Mike choked out. He swallowed hard past a lump in his throat, his eyes darting frantically between Will’s. 

“Oh, come on.” Will rolled his eyes fondly. He brushed it off like it was nothing. “You knew.”

Only then, in that moment, did Mike finally understand. 

It hit him like a freight train. The pieces of a decade-long puzzle slammed together with violent clarity. The painting in the van. The way Will had looked at him. The way he avoided him all of senior year. 

Will watched him, and slowly, the giggly smile began to slide off his face. His eyes widened, the warm hazel draining into something dark and terrified. “Oh my god,” he whispered.

“No, Will—” Mike tried to force his vocal cords to work, but his brain was still desperately trying to catch up to his heart.

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have kissed you. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No! No, I’m glad you— Will, I—” Mike stammered, his words tripping over one another.

“Oh my god.” Will scrambled, trying to get off of Mike’s lap. “Mike— I’m so sorry—”

“No. No no no. Please don’t. Just—”

Mike shot forward, his arm throwing out blindly. His hands clamped down around Will’s waist. The grip was desperate, anchoring Will to the spot before he could bolt. Will froze under the touch, a trembling breath shuddering through his frame.

Mike's mind was spiraling. How could he have been so stupid? How had he let years slip through his fingers?

“Am I too late?” Mike blurted out, his voice cracking on the final syllable.

Will blinked, his eyebrows pulling together. “What?”

“Am I—” Mike stammered, his hands shook where they gripped Will’s waist. He forced himself to maintain eye contact, letting Will see every ounce of vulnerability that poured out of him. “Am I too late? Because— you said it was in high school, and I was so fucking stupid and oblivious, and I was a terrible friend back then, but—”

“Mike, what does that mean—” Will interrupted, his breathing picked up again and his eyes searched Mike’s face frantically.

“It means— I’m in love with you,” Mike blurted out.

Will’s body went rigid. His eyes widened so far they appeared almost golden in the dim light. “You’re— you’re— what?”

“I’m in love with you,” Mike said again. This time, it felt less like a confession and more like he was finally drawing oxygen into his lungs. “I have been for a really long time. Before I even knew it was romantic and not just— I didn't know how to name it at first. But it's always been you, Will. Every time I tried to picture my future, or my five-year fucking plan, or whatever— it was always with you.”

Will stared at him, his lips parted, but no sound came out.

The silence stretched for one agonizing second. Then two. Then three.

“I’m…” Mike looked down, a hot flush of embarrassment crawling up his neck. “I’m too late. God, I’m so stupid. I’m too late.”

Will put his hand against Mike’s cheek. His skin was warm, a grounding tether to reality. When Mike looked up, Will tilted his head, a devastatingly beautiful, watery smile breaking across his face.

“You’re not too late,” Will whispered.

“Are you serious?”

Will scrunches his nose, his thumb softly brushing against Mike's cheekbone. “Yes, you idiot.”

A breathless laugh escaped Mike’s lips and Will let out a wet, shaky giggle in response, his shoulders finally dropping the last of their tension. 

For a long moment, they just sat there, giggling like idiots. Relief washed over them in identical, overwhelming waves. It was messy and awkward and absolutely perfect.

As the laughter slowly faded, Mike reached up and gently pried Will's hand from his cheek, but he didn't let go. He shifted his grip and intertwined their hands, slotting their fingers together, palm to palm. 

It fit perfectly. Like it was always meant to be there.

“So… are you—”

“Gay. Yes,” Mike answered, already knowing what Will was going to ask. 

“When did you figure it out?” Will asked, his eyes softening with an almost sad look. “You could’ve spoken to me about it, you know?”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Mike sighed, feeling slightly guilty. “I’ve known for as long as I’ve known how I feel about you.” 

Will nodded slowly, taking it in. He squeezed his hand tight as Mike’s mind started to race, a million questions suddenly at the tip of his tongue. He didn’t want to be annoying about it, but he also couldn't help himself.

“How long? When in high school? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh my god,” Will interrupted with a smile. “I should’ve seen this coming.”

“I have about sixty more questions lined up, so let’s get going,” Mike laughed.

Will shook his head, looking deep into Mike’s eyes. “You first.”

Mike smiled. “I think I knew when we were seventeen. I definitely felt it before then, though. I didn’t tell you because I was scared to ruin our friendship.”

Will’s lips parted slightly, almost in shock. Mike squeezed his hand tight.

“Thirteen,” Will whispered.

“No— I said seventeen. But I mean, yeah probably thirteen as well, just don’t tell Jane that. Well, actually, you can if you want to, but—”

“No, I meant me, Mike.” Will took a deep breath. “I knew I was in love with you at thirteen.”

Mike squinted at him. “Thirteen?”

“Thirteen,” Will confirmed.

Mike didn’t know how to process that. He felt like such a fucking idiot, but at the same time, he felt like the luckiest man alive. 

He let out a bright laugh and wrapped his arms around Will’s waist, pulling him into a tight hug. He peppered warm, breathless kisses along Will's shoulder and neck, making him squirm.

Will giggled at the touch, winding his arms securely around Mike's neck.

Slowly, Mike leaned back to look at him. He could practically feel the adoration radiating from his own face.

“Can I kiss you again?” Mike asked.

“Please,” Will exhaled.

Mike didn't waste another second. He closed the remaining distance between them, his mouth meeting Will’s in a kiss that felt different from the panicked one before. This time, there was no fear. It was slow and deep and grounded in certainty.

Mike brought his hand up to the back of Will’s neck, his fingers tangled in the soft hairs there, and gently pulled him closer until there wasn't a breath of space left between them. Will let out a soft, contented sigh against Mike’s lips, parting them slightly, his hands gripping Mike’s shoulders.

When Mike finally pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against Will's, they were both breathless, their shared smiles brushing together in the quiet room.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Will confessed, leaning back just enough to break the kiss. 

“Holy shit, me too.” Mike beamed, and he almost couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

Will’s eyes dropped, locked onto Mike’s mouth with a cheeky smile. “So tell me… was the pickle tongue me all along?” 

An unrestrained laugh erupted from Mike’s chest. “No. Will, you could literally headbutt me right now, and it would still be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Will’s lips twitched upward into a small, fond smile. “Okay. Good to know the bar is on the floor.”

“You have no idea how beautiful you are,” Mike murmured, ignoring Will’s comment and letting his hands slide down to Will’s waist. “It’s actually infuriating.”

“Shut up,” Will flushed, his cheeks burning pink. “Just kiss me again.”

Mike didn't need to be told twice. He pulled Will back down, the last lingering trace of hesitation entirely gone.

His lips captured Will’s with a fiery urgency. Will gasped softly into the contact, his fingers tightening in Mike’s hair as Mike deepened the kiss. 

The change in their energy was immediate. The softness from moments before burned away. There was only a desperate, starving need to make up for lost time.

Mike parted his lips, completely breathless when Will’s tongue swept against his lower lip. The sensation sent a bolt of lightning straight down Mike’s spine. He opened his mouth for him, a low groan catching in the back of his throat as their tongues met and their mouths tangled together. It was intoxicating.

Mike’s hands slid up Will’s back. His fingers caught the thick hem of Will’s flannel, and he pushed the fabric upward until his bare palms flattened against the hot skin of Will’s lower back.

Will shivered at the touch, arching his spine to press himself closer to Mike’s chest.

“Mike—” Will gasped, breaking the alignment of their mouths just enough to drag his lips along Mike’s jawline.

“I’ve got you,” Mike promised, his voice a rough whisper. His hands mapped the curve of Will’s spine, his thumbs pressing firmly into the divots just above his hips.

Will captured Mike’s lips again, kissing him harder, deeper. The slide of their mouths and the wet friction of their lips parting and meeting again echoed loudly in the quiet apartment.

Mike was drowning, entirely consumed by it all. He could feel the pounding of Will’s heart. He felt the slight scrape of Will’s teeth against his bottom lip, and the soft, desperate noises Will made every time Mike’s hands flexed against his bare skin. 

Will circled his hips in Mike’s lap, and the weight of the movement stole the remaining air straight from Mike’s lungs. A gravelly sound tore out of the back of Mike’s throat.

“Oh my god, do that again,” Mike groaned into the seam of Will’s lips, his fingers digging into the flesh of Will’s thighs to keep him right there.

Will rocked his hips forward again. 

Mike felt his length twitch in response, straining against the suffocating confinement of his pants. He’d tried his fucking best to keep himself composed, but with Will moving like that, he couldn’t hold it in.

Mike arched his hips upward to chase the heat, eager to close the small distance between them. Will met him halfway, pushing down into the contact with a breathy whimper that vibrated against Mike’s mouth. 

The sound was a match to gasoline. Mike moaned loudly into the kiss, his mind fracturing under the addicting pace they were building right there on the cushions.

Will broke the connection and pulled his head back, his chest heaving as he stared down at Mike with dark, completely blown-out pupils.

“I need you— I need… more,” Will whispered.

Mike’s eyes dropped between them, his hands shaking where they held Will’s hips. Even through their clothes, he could feel the distinct, rigid line of Will’s length pressed hard and straining against his own. 

The realization that Will wanted this just as badly, that Will was just as consumed by the same hunger, made Mike feel dizzy. 

Mike hooked a hand behind Will’s neck, pulling him down until his lips were brushed right against the shell of Will’s ear. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the sensitive skin there, feeling the way Will shuddered in his arms, before he leaned in to whisper, “Take your belt off.”

The words seemed to break whatever lingering restraint Will had left. With frantic, uncoordinated movements, Will reached down, his fingers fumbling blindly with the metal buckle. 

He ripped the leather strap free and threw it blindly across the room, the heavy metal clattering against the floor. 

Will leaned back on his knees, his breathing ragged as he unbuttoned his pants, and Mike immediately mirrored the movement, his own hands working his zipper with a desperate, clumsy urgency.

What followed was a chaotic blur of awkward shifting, tangled limbs, and the frantic rustle of fabric as they kicked out of their clothes. They stumbled slightly, laughing breathlessly into each other’s shoulders as they managed to shed the final barriers, until finally, the cool air of the apartment hit their entirely naked skin.

They sat across from each other on the couch. Mike’s breath hitched in his throat. He looked at Will, completely enamored, his eyes tracing the soft, pale slope of Will’s shoulders, the curve of his waist, and the beautiful, vulnerable way he held himself.

“You’re so heavenly, Will,” Mike breathed, the words falling out of him like a prayer. “You have no idea.”

Will’s cheeks flushed, but his eyes didn't meet Mike’s face. His eyes were glued to the left side of Mike’s chest.

Mike froze, a spike of adrenaline hitting him as he realized what Will was looking at. In all the excitement of the last hour, he had completely forgotten that he hadn’t shown Will the tattoo yet. 

Will crawled forward on his knees, moving with a quiet focus until he slid back into Mike’s lap. The skin-to-skin contact was electric, making Mike choke on a breath, but he automatically brought his hands up to steady Will’s waist. 

Still, Will didn't look up. His fingers, messy with dried paint, trembled as he reached out, gently tracing the dark, precise lines etched right over Mike’s heart.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you—” Mike started.

“The sun,” Will interrupted, a soft, tender smile breaking across his face. His thumb brushed over the center of the design.

“Over my heart, yeah,” Mike breathed, his chest expanding unsteadily under Will’s touch. He let out a small laugh, his cheeks warming. “Uh— I stole it off your desk. You left a sketch pad open.”

“Thief!” Will laughed, the sound bright as he playfully nudged Mike’s shoulder.

Mike didn’t let him pull away. He leaned forward, catching the remnants of Will’s laughter, and kissed him.

The heat flared up between them again, instant and blinding. 

As they pulled each other close, Mike felt their lengths line up perfectly, smooth skin sliding against smooth skin. A loud groan broke out of him, his hands gripping Will’s back to ground himself as he chased the friction. 

The sensation was maddening. Will let out a sharp gasp, pressing his weight forward until he pushed Mike flat onto his back against the couch cushions, hovering directly over him.

Will straightened his posture on top of him, breaking the kiss. “Do you want to try something?” He asked.

“Anything you want.” 

Before Mike could ask what he was doing, Will brought his right hand up, hovering his open palm right over Mike’s mouth.

Mike blinked, looking up at him questioningly, his heart thumping hard against his ribs.

“Spit,” Will commanded softly.

A rush of heat shot straight to the tip of Mike’s dick, twitching and leaking at Will’s voice. 

Will’s eyes darted down to follow the movement, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips before he looked back up to meet Mike’s gaze. 

Without a second thought, Mike parted his lips and spat directly into Will’s waiting palm.

Will brought his hand down between them, and Mike wasn’t exactly sure what he was planning until— oh God.

Will reached down and gathered both of their lengths into his slick palm. He brought them together, the heat of their bodies aligning as he squeezed, their lengths sliding against one another. 

Mike’s head snapped back against the cushion, his eyes flying shut as a broken sound escaped him. “Holy shit—”

Before Mike could even process the intensity of it, Will brought his hand up again. “More,” he whispered. Mike spat into his palm a second time, and Will immediately brought the moisture back down, coating them thoroughly from base to tip.

Then, Will began to stroke them together.

Mike’s eyes flew open, his hands automatically flying down to wrap around Will’s wrist, helping him guide the motion. 

The pace was slow at first, a heavy, dragging friction that made both of their bodies tremble. They looked directly into each other’s eyes before Will leaned down and pressed his forehead against Mike’s, their hurried breaths mingling in the small space between them.

Every time Mike slid his hand up, driving Will’s palm along their combined lengths, Will let out a soft, desperate whimper. Mike caught the sound with his own lips, swallowing the noise as he kissed him through the haze of pleasure.

“You feel so good Mike,” Will breathed into the kiss.

“You’re so good— you’re— everything.” Mike stuttered out.

The rhythm picked up, becoming messy, hot, and unaligned with any sense of patience. The wet slide of their skin moving together and their shared moans were the only sounds filling the room. 

Mike was losing his grip on reality, his hips lifting off the couch instinctively to meet every downward stroke of Will's hand.

“I’m not gonna last,” Mike choked out in between desperate, uncoordinated kisses, his voice completely broken. “Will, I swear if you don’t slow down—”

“Me neither,” Will gasped against his jaw, his grip tightening around them, his own hips twitching helplessly.

“Fuck— Will,” Mike groaned, his fingers tightening over Will’s hand, forcing the pace to accelerate into something frantic and wild. He closed his eyes, completely surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of Will’s heat, Will’s skin, his mind just Will Will Will.

“Mike—” Will cried out, breaking the kiss as his head fell into the crook of Mike’s neck.

Mike couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face, but it quickly dissolved into a loud moan as the tension finally snapped. 

The pleasure was blinding. He felt the hot rush of his climax pour out of him, leaking everywhere as his entire body trembled.

Will watched him through heavy, half-lidded eyes, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of Mike as he came undone beneath him. The visual was clearly the breaking point. Only a second later, Will let out a sharp cry, his body going rigid as he followed Mike over the edge, a thick, messy release spilling out between them, coating their stomachs and chests in a warm spurt of relief.

Will collapsed forward, his head resting against Mike’s shoulder. Their heartbeats thumped in a chaotic, overlapping rhythm against each other’s skin. 

Mike wrapped his arms tightly around Will’s bare back and pulled him as close as possible, content to just lie there in the mess of it all.

“Holy shit,” Mike breathed, the words vibrating against the damp skin of Will’s shoulder. 

Will let out an exhausted chuckle and tilted his head up, pressing a warm, lingering kiss right to the corner of Mike’s jaw.

“That was incredible,” Will whispered. He shifted slightly, lifting his head to kiss Mike’s cheek, then the tip of his nose, his lips soft and comforting.

Mike leaned into the affection, pressing a kiss to Will’s forehead before the reality of the stickiness covering them finally registered. 

He shifted under Will’s weight, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. “Stay here.”

Carefully, Mike eased his way out from under Will, trying his best not to track the sticky mess all over the floor as he stood up. His legs felt a bit like jelly, but he walked with a purpose into the small bathroom, grabbing a clean washcloth from the rack. He turned the tap on, letting the water run until it was perfectly warm, then soaked the fabric.

After quickly wiping down his own skin, Mike walked back into the living room, holding the warm rag. Will was still curled up on the couch, looking beautifully disheveled and completely soft in the dim light. 

Mike knelt beside the cushions, offering a gentle smile as he reached out. He took his time, slowly and carefully swiping the mess off Will’s skin, his movements filled with a quiet, protective tenderness.

Will watched him the entire time, his hazel eyes glistening with a tearful look that made Mike’s chest ache with overwhelming love. It wasn’t a sad look, it was the expression of someone who had waited to be looked at and loved like this.

Once the skin was clear, Mike set the rag aside and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Will's lips. “All clean.”

Will giggled, the sound sweet and wet, and opened his arms. 

Mike crashed right into them, burying his face into the warm crook of Will’s neck as they tangled their limbs back together on the narrow sofa. The scent of Will — citrus, warmth, and something entirely his own — enveloped Mike completely.

“Please can I be yours?” Mike whispered, his voice cracking slightly with the raw weight of the question. He gripped Will’s bare waist, anchoring himself. “Please?”

Will pulled back, trying to look at his face. Mike looked up, letting Will see the sincerity, the desperation, and the adoration pouring out of him.

A smile broke across Will’s face. “You wanna be my boyfriend?”

“Please? I’ll beg— please please please please—”

“Mike! Yes,” Will laughed, a tear finally slipping down his cheek as he interrupted him. “A million times yes, you can be.”

Before Mike could even process the rush of euphoria, Will peppered warm kisses all over Mike’s cheeks, his jaw, his eyelids, and into his messy dark hair. Finally, Will caught Mike’s lips in a proper kiss. It was deep, sweet, and bursting with the promise of a thousand tomorrows.

Tangling his fingers in Will’s hair, Mike kissed him back with everything he had. 

Sitting there on their worn sofa in their cheap apartment, a sense of clarity washed over him. 

Mike realized that perfect compatibility wasn’t a myth, and it wasn’t some magical thing he was just going to stumble upon randomly in the world. 

It was something he already had, something he’d built, and would continue to build every single day, with his best friend.

His best friend, who was now finally his boyfriend.

His Will.