Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

April 27th 1990 8 AM

Mike thinks being right is a pretty good feeling—Will Byers is sick with the flu. And yes, though Will insists it must be a bug going around and he’s caught it from someone else, Mike knows he’s the culprit. 

At first, he’d felt terrible. But after agreeing that kissing each other was probably, definitely, the best thing to happen to them that week, Mike decided not to beat himself up about it. Will would make sure of that, at least. Still, Mike can quietly hold out on taking care of him to make up for it. 

The past week started with slowly coaxing Mike back to health, just like the days before. But this time, there was no holding back. Especially not from Will. At first, it had taken some adjusting to the fact that they could be as openly caring as they wanted to be with each other. In Mike’s delirious state, somewhere between illness and exhaustion, whenever Will kissed him on the forehead before they fell asleep, Mike would sometimes jolt awake with the shock that this was happening. This was the new norm. 

He’s allowed to think about Will this way. He’s allowed to want him, to love him. And whenever he starts to believe it was wrong, Will is there to try and remind him it’s right. 

Especially in moments like this. Will is curled into Mike’s side, both of them squeezed into Mike’s small twin bed. His hair shifts slightly each time he breathes. Will’s always been angelic, always effortless, and frankly, Mike has no idea how he does it. He also has no idea how he’s gone this long without letting himself feel this incredible. Because being able to look at Will like this, to brush the stray strands of hair from his face and openly gaze at his soft expression, it’s a privilege. 

How the hell did he not know he was gay?

Heart squeezing with affection as Will sniffles and groans slightly in his sleep, Mike shifts from his previous position, slowly moving one hand to the back of Will’s head. It’s almost annoying how nice his hair feels under his fingers. He laughs quietly to himself, thinking about how his own hair had practically deteriorated when he was sick. 

God, he wants to kiss him again. He already misses it, even though the last time was only last night before bed. He knows it’s sappy, but he lets himself embrace it, having spent so long shutting this part of himself down. But to kiss him, he’d have to wake him, and Will desperately needs sleep. He’s never been a morning person, but he almost always wakes up before Mike does. The clearest sign that he caught Mike’s flu was when he didn’t wake up for his 11 a.m. class three days ago. 

And after that…Mike hates to admit it, but it’s been heaven. Not for Will, obviously, but for Mike, it’s been the kind of quiet closeness he’d never let himself imagine. The freedom to touch Will’s face where he wanted, to admire him in the way he deserves—the ache in Mike’s chest is starting to ease. An ache he now wonders how he hadn’t noticed was there before. 

Their faces are almost touching, and Mike can barely suppress a grin. Will’s warmth is feverish, yes, but it’s utterly captivating at the same time. Daringly, Mike leans in and gently brushes his boyfriend’s nose with his own, grinning wide when it earns the smallest stir from him.  

His…boyfriend.

Is that what they are now? 

Mike has no idea how any of this works, being gay, the terminology, the rules. He feels like his grandparents sometimes when it comes to that, fumbling to catch up. 

They’d never really had a sit-down talk about labels or anything like that. There’s just not enough time, not with the amount of penance that Mike needs to pay towards Will, secretly of course. Plus, it’s a little embarrassing to ask the boy you love in a very-gay way to describe the ins and outs of actually being in a gay relationship. From the very first inklings of his desire, Mike had assumed he’d never explore them, never even try, for fear that doing so would be some kind of admission. 

And now, here he is, facing the consequences. He knows he can just ask Will…right? But he can’t quite picture the look on Will’s face if he were to ask whether gay people go on the kinds of dates that he’s seen straight couples go on in movies, or whether they actually get married and have kids. And now that he’s thinking about it, that is a daunting thought.

Despite being exactly like Will in this way, Mike has this terrible feeling he’ll say one wrong word and doom himself to look like a clueless, pathetic mess in a world where everyone else somehow already knows all the unspoken gay social rules. 

Mike shakes himself out of his usual daze, more common than ever now that he’s finally regained the ability to form coherent thoughts again. Sighing, he does what he always does when the weight of everything starts pressing down on him. He looks at Will— really looks at him. It’s a simple reminder. He can’t give up just because things feel overwhelming and tough now. That’s not even an option anymore. 

Now that he’s fully back in the moment, Mike notices the small divot forming between Will’s brows, that little crease that usually means he’s waking up. 

Hesitantly, Mike takes a few seconds to build up the courage to lean forward and gently smooth out the frown with his thumb, smiling softly at how familiar this is starting to feel. Knowing what Will’s skin feels like used to be something Mike longed for, but wouldn’t allow himself to remember. It was something his brain had instinctively tried to memorise every time they brushed skin-to-skin, until that stubborn blockade keeping him from happiness would persuade him to turn away, forget. 

It’s still hard to move past that blockade. A few kisses with Will can’t magically undo everything, but Mike’s trying. 

Like it’s a near-impossible task, Will cracks one eye open and lets out a small sound at the feeling of Mike’s thumb absent-mindedly brushing across the bridge of his nose. Upon seeing Mike in his bed, he promptly shuts his eyes again and groans softly, shifting closer into Mike’s space. 

Mike likes to think it’s instinctual, the way Will gravitates towards him, even further proven when Will refuses to let him go, even in his sleep. Mike knows it’s partly because Will’s sick and in need of comfort, but he’s not complaining.

If Mike could help it, he’d never wake up without Will next to him again for the rest of his life. 

“Hey there, you,” Mike half-whispers, when Will presses his nose into Mike’s sternum and sniffles—or at least tries to breathe through his nose, with great difficulty. 

Will takes a few seconds to reply with a soft, “Hi,” before giving up on trying to breathe through his nose and slightly parting his lips. Letting out a sympathetic sound, Mike gives in to his urges, and pulls Will closer, just like he has every morning lately. He can’t help it. Will just looks so small like this, his nose all red and irritated, hair adorably messy, body curled into a fetal position and slowly inching closer to Mike until he’s convinced Will’s fever might be transferring into him. 

That’s…weird, right? Mike knows he’s attached, okay? He’s probably known that forever. But this, this is better than any plan or goal he’ll ever make in his entire life. 

“Morning,” Mike murmurs, trying to sound cheerful as Will subtly shivers in his arms. “Feeling any better?” 

For a moment, Will doesn’t respond, just rubs his face slowly against the fabric of Mike’s sleep shirt. Mike thinks he might have drifted off again, until Will looks up, blinking blearily, and mutters, “No.” 

Mike tries to hide the panic this earns, offering an empathetic smile as he scans Will’s face for any signs of immediate concern. All he finds is a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and the same dark circles that had haunted Mike just a week and a half ago. He knows how much Will hates being sick—the memories, the cold, the shivering. If he could reach inside and take that all away right this second, he would.

“That’s okay, need me to…skip all my classes again?”

Will lets out a grunt and frowns a little, “Can I at least…try to persuade you not to?” 

Mike scrunches his mouth to the side, pretending to consider. Then he shakes his head. “Nope.” 

Enunciating his refusal with a small kiss to Will’s (possibly gross) forehead, Mike suppresses a laugh when he hears a groan of exasperation. He wishes he could easily tell Will that he has nothing to worry about and that there’s no way he’ll be able to focus in any class, knowing the boy he loves is lying in his bed, maybe dying, maybe panicking about the memories this is conjuring. 

Okay, that’s dramatic, as Will has already mumbled half-asleep several times, but still. There’s nothing Mike can do about how it feels, and he’s not panicking. Though that one is still up for debate. 

“I’ve made an oath to heal you, Will,” Mike says airily, almost giddy as he waits for whatever clever response Will’s going to try to muster. 

He snorts, weakly nudging forward. “It’s not working that well,” he mumbles, a little muffled. 

For all his complaints and begrudging acceptance of Mike’s help, Will’s happiness about all the attention is obvious. There’s something in the way he grins whenever Mike dabs his forehead with a damp cloth, the way he turns even redder every time Mike kisses his cheek, even though he says it’s just from the fever. They both know he’s not fooling anyone. 

“Okay, well,” Mike sighs, gently dragging his fingertips down the back of Will’s scalp and smiling at the tiny exhale it earns, an exhale Will is clearly trying to pretend didn’t happen. “Then I’ll have to try harder, won’t I?” 

Will leans into Mike’s fingers, coughing for a moment before nodding, like he hasn’t fully processed what Mike just said until…his eyes blink open, dazed. “Mm—Mike it’s…it’s okay. You’re good at it,” he mumbles, his words blurring together as Mike tries to decipher whether it’s the illness, the sleepiness, the pleasure of having his head scratched, or some combination of all three. 

“Good at what, sorry?” Mike asks smugly. 

“Being my…” Will sniffs, pausing the find the word, giving Mike enough time to spiral slightly, wondering if Will is about to say something definitive, something with a label— “...healer.”

That’s enough for now. Mike silently rolls his eyes at himself and makes an affectionate sound as his heart clenches. He knows Will is probably blushing right now, and just the thought of it makes his resolve break. 

“Oh, thank you, that’s—that’s adorable,” he says, smiling contentedly as he leans down to brush his nose against Will’s.

“Mike—” Will starts, but he’s cut off by Mike’s lips. 

God, kissing Will, even when he’s sick, is a full-blown addiction. Mike doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to give it up, even if it’s the most contagious, deadly disease in the world. He knows that if he actually says something that sappy out loud, Will would give him that look that says really? , and Mike would panic a little before Will quietly tells him it’s okay. That he likes it. 

He doesn’t care that Will’s lips are chapped and dry or that he has morning breath, whatever. He’s gorgeous. Everything about him makes Mike wonder why he ever tried to see anything in anyone else, why he ever thought he belonged anywhere but here , right next to Will. At least now, all those moments he couldn’t take his eyes off him finally make total sense. It was his soul, reaching out. Pulling him towards the place he was always meant to be. 

When Mike pulls away and squeezes Will tighter to his body, like the hug itself is a kind of healing technique, Will makes a small, desperate noise. Mike looks down again, concerned. “You okay?” 

“I—” Mike interrupts him with another quick kiss before Will can finish, which earns a half-hearted attempt to pull away. “You can’t…you can’t kiss me like this.” 

Mike lifts his head and pouts dramatically. “I can’t believe you would say tha—”

Nudging him weakly, Will whines out a protest, “Shut up, you know why.” He tries to hide a small laugh, which only makes it cuter. Then he sniffles, and Mike has to fight the urge to scoop him up all over again. “Thought you would be better at controlling yourself, seeing as you’ve literally seen first-hand how awful this disease is.” 

Chuckling, Mike tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of Will’s head and starts gently stroking. It’s partly to butter him up, partly because it just feels too damn good. 

Who’s he kidding? It’s entirely because of the latter.

“It’s okay, Will,” Mike says sweetly, not even bothering to be embarrassed by the tone of his voice, one that would have made him wince a few months ago. “I just had the same thing as you, so I’m like—immune now, or something.”

Will opens his mouth to argue, but Mike interrupts him for a moment to kiss him somewhere on his face; he’s not even sure where it lands. Will snuffles slightly in his unfounded quest to pull away. 

“That’s not how it works, Mike,” he says with a giggle, his congestion turning his M s into soft Bs , so his name comes out more like “Bike”.

“It’s not?” Mike asks, mock-frowning. 

Will laughs harder, though it’s clear it’s taking him a lot of energy to keep up this level of excitement. So, Mike gently cards his fingers through the hair at Will’s forehead, hoping it’ll encourage him to settle down a little. 

“I don’t know, I’m not an expert,” Will croaks, coughing before closing his eyes, clearly relishing in the soothing motion of Mike’s fingers. 

“Well, I can see you’re enjoying—”

“Mike,” Will interrupts, cracking one bloodshot eye open. The look shuts Mike up completely. “I can’t be bothered to…You win, okay? You can kiss me and get sick, whatever.” 

With a small triumphant giggle, Mike leans in and brushes the hair away from Will’s forehead, planting a couple more kisses on his pale skin. Then he pulls away suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Oh, I mean, I don’t have to if you really don’t want me to. I can stop,” he teases, chewing on his lip to keep himself from grinning like a fool. 

Will seems to wait a beat, as if letting the words sink in. Then he opens one eye, checking that Mike’s still there, and scrunches his mouth to the side with a sigh. “You’re so annoying,” he whispers with a small smile, one that makes it obvious that he doesn’t mean what he says at all. 

Mike’s about to ask whether that’s a yes when Will shifts closer using his legs, grumbling softly as he tucks his face back into the cozy space between Mike’s neck and the pillow, breathing in and out deeply. Shivering at the contact of Will’s nose against the tender skin of his neck, Mike hesitantly wraps his arms around Will’s back, falling completely silent as he breathes in, syncing his breath to the steady rise and fall of the chest against his own. 

He wishes he could capture this moment in a frame, show it to everyone and say, Look how happy I am. Happier than yesterday. Happier than the day before that . Every day keeps getting better. And Mike’s not sure what will happen over the years, whether he’ll someday just explode from the weight of this love, but he can’t wait to feel whatever it is that he didn’t know he’d been chasing this whole time.

But he…he can’t show everyone. 

Even with Will loving him back, the thoughts about telling people, about being who he is out loud, don’t just vanish. They aren’t going to go away. He wishes they would. He wishes he could lose himself in Will’s body, his lips, and let all of it drown the fear out. It always works, until it doesn’t. Until he’s back in his own mind again, left with all the things he still doesn’t understand.

“Mike?” Will’s small voice comes from below, his head peeking out. Mike shakes himself out of the spiral, blinking rapidly but still managing a smile. 

“Yeah? Need some medicine? Something to eat? You just woke up, so I think it’s a good idea if—”

Will raises an eyebrow and gently cuts in with what little energy he has. “Yeah, maybe in a second, I just…” He licks his chapped lips and looks down. His eyes, glassy from the illness, still carry that constant look of worry. “I just wondered why you tensed up, I guess. I don’t know…” He sniffles. 

“Oh, uh—” Mike flounders, almost forgetting how well Will knows him. 

Will’s eyes drop again, and he starts fidgeting with something unseen, like he always does when he’s nervous. Nervous? What does he have to feel nervous about? All Mike wants is him back in his arms, their bodies tangled together like they were made to fit that way. 

“You can, y’know… tell me if I need to hold off,” Will murmurs, voice small but sincere. “On the…affection.”

“Hey,” Mike whispers, frowning. Slowly, but without hesitation, he sits up as Will lowers his gaze again, blinking fast with nerves. Placing his hand on his shoulder and rubbing his arm a little, Mike feels this strange knot in his stomach that he desperately wants to ignore. He searches Will’s face for signs of upset, unsure what he’d do if he saw him crying again. 

“There’s no way I’m gonna ask you to do that.”

The words land with honesty, emphasised when Mike cups Will’s cheek, feeling a familiar thrill surge through him as Will looks up, eyes full of something that makes Mike’s heart feel too big for his chest.  

“Especially right now,” he adds more gently, letting the seriousness in his voice soften as he rubs the pad of his thumb over Will’s warm cheek, causing a smile to tug at the corners of Will’s mouth, eyes crinkling slightly. 

But as Will opens his mouth to say more about the subject, Mike quickly realises he wants nothing more than to avoid it. He’s not ready. Not for that can of worms. Not today. When will you be, Mike?  

“Okay,” he sighs quickly, sitting up fully and stretching out his limbs, aware that Will’s eyes are darting across his body. He’s just not sure if it’s curiosity or concern. “Time for me to heal you.”

Before Will can say a word of protest, Mike slips off the bed and heads into the bathroom, keeping his mind focused on finding the painkillers. He returns to Will with a smile on his face, but there’s no way to ignore the confusion riddled over Will’s expression, keeping Mike from feeling truly at ease even as Will silently takes the pills. 

Will swallows the last one before murmuring, “Thank you,” his eyes fixed on Mike, a subtle frown creeping across his face like a shadow. 

“‘Course,” Mike breathes, feeling a little exasperated for no good reason. He sits cross-legged on the bed, feeling like the roles have reversed from that strange, aching week when it felt like all Will did was sit across from him on this bed and say things that Mike probably wouldn’t have survived without hearing. 

And now, sitting here and watching Will’s features droop with sleep as he finishes another yawn, Mike can’t help but feel a little awful. 

The tightness in his chest always loosened whenever he finally let out something his mind had long warned him to keep buried. It was a strange paradigm, but it always worked. 

“Look,” Mike sighs, leaning forward to lie beside Will again, propped up on one elbow. To his surprise, Will lifts a hand, reaching for Mike’s face before finding his lips and pressing the pads of his fingertips there. 

“No, no, Mike,” Will whispers, shaking his head slowly against the pillow, eyes still shut. “I’m being silly. Ignore me.”

At that, Mike scowls like someone else had just insulted Will. “What? No—c’mon, you deserve… better,” he says, his hand moving instinctively to the place it always seems to end up lately: Will’s hair, coaxing his eyes open. A rush of affection shoots through Mike’s chest, so he presses his palm gently to Will’s cheek to displace some of that energy. 

“Mm, okay. Wha’s the matter?” Will slurs, his voice so raspy that Mike almost laughs, before hating it. Will’s eyes are far too bloodshot for Mike to feel good about dragging him into a deep conversation. He’d rather save all his spirals for when Will is better . When he doesn’t sound like he swallowed a frog. 

Scrunching his mouth to the side, Mike thinks. He knows that Will won’t relax if he just pushes this aside and lets the tension hang around like fog all day, so he closes his eyes and lets himself fall into the familiar fantasy: it’s just the two of them, alone in the world. They live on their own floating island, in a quiet house, with no responsibilities. It’s become a regular escape. 

“When you first realised things…” Mike begins, reaching underneath the covers to find Will’s hand, gently fiddling with his fingers. Will doesn’t respond much, and Mike’s not used to that. “Y’know, that you were gay.” 

He hasn’t finished his question, but he hopes Will can read his mind and somehow understand what he’s trying to say anyway, like his illness has given him new psychic powers. 

“Yes?” Will prompts softly, his voice so full of sincerity and kindness that it staggers Mike for a moment. 

“Did you feel like…” Mike looks down, ready to get under the comforter again, settle back into the cocoon of warmth keeping Will at a good temperature. “Like you’re just…totally socially-inept?”

That makes Will crack open an eye, sniffling as he shifts in place. “Socially exempt?” he tries to repeat, his innocent tone making Mike giggle, cheeks reddening. 

“Socially- inept , Will,” Mike corrects in a whisper. Will nods his head, murmuring an ‘oh’ before the meaning sinks in. Despite the correction, the word ‘socially-exempt’ feels oddly fitting too, if Mike’s being honest. If it means what he thinks—like he doesn’t belong anywhere, and that Will’s the only thing keeping him tethered. 

“Hm,” Will hums, thinking as much as he can. It’s like his brain is rifling through files, searching.  

Quickly, Mike’s thumb rubs gently at Will’s warm forehead. “Sorry, am I—am I making your headache worse? I feel like—”

Will interrupts him with a low grunt and a look that says stop fussing , but that doesn’t mean Mike will actually do it. “No, you’re—”  Will suddenly cuts himself off, melting into the pillows below him, Mike’s fingers still massaging his temple. “Damn, that’s good,” he whispers, and affection bubbles up in Mike’s chest, escaping as a soft laugh. 

“Yeah?” he teases, deliberately slowing the motion of his thumb.

“Yeah um—” Shaking himself off, Will blinks as if remembering where he is, who he’s talking to, and why. “What—what do you mean by socially-inept, Mike?”

Feeling his face heat, Mike averts his gaze and focuses on a small fraying thread on the blanket wrapped around Will. He fiddles with it while he wonders if he’s being totally ridiculous, and this is all normal. Or whether he’s being even more ridiculous, and this is bizarre for everyone involved. 

“I just feel like…” he sighs, flopping down next to Will with his head on the pillow, making Will stir slightly and blink his eyes open wider. “...I haven’t got anything figured out. Still. Even though I probably should have by now. I mean, it was stupid to think that after all the denying and shit I’d suddenly know everything about being…like this.”

Listening patiently, Will nods, letting Mike carry on, making him feel warm and heard in a way he rarely feels with anyone else on the planet.

“I- It feels weird. Everyone just… knows everything, and I don’t,” Mike stammers, running a hand through his hair, untangling it. Will doesn’t respond at first, and anxiety starts to crawl across Mike’s skin. “I know it sounds strange,” he adds.

“You…” Will breathes, voice tinged with worry, shaking his head like he’s trying to process it all. A frown settles between his brows. “You feel like an outcast? Because I definitely—”

Letting out a sharp exhale, Mike scrunches his eyes shut, searching his brain and coming up short on whether that’s really the right way to describe it or not. “Well, yeah , but…that’s kinda not it.” 

Will nods, and Mike barely even registers when he curls into his side, gently clutching his arm, but it soothes him all the same, anchoring his thoughts in the right places. He glances down at Will and tries to focus, really focus, on what the actual hell he’s feeling when he thinks about being like him. They’re both gay, but somehow Mike feels like…he’s just not . Even though he fits the technical definition. He’s not sure if it’s some fucked-up societal thing telling him he has to dress a certain way, talk a certain way, not be some random loser sitting in his dorm room thinking about video games and comics all day.

But he’s starting to think it might be something else. Something about whether he even deserves this. Deserves to know himself. Will obviously does, he’s always deserved to feel right in his own skin, to be confident that being different is a kind of superpower no one can take away. But for Mike? Feeling good about being different, living a life free from melancholy denial and all the emotional gymnastics, that doesn’t feel meant for him. 

He doesn’t belong in the so-called “normal” world, that’s for sure. But what if he doesn’t belong in the other world either—the gay, different, self-discovery world that Will deserves?

He must’ve been quiet for a while, because Will is gently pressing on his arm, looking up at him just as Mike realises his nose is running a little. It’s not because he’s catching the flu again. 

“I feel like…a fraud,” Mike says. He doesn’t mean for it to come out as brokenly as it does. 

Will goes a little stiff. Mike hears him sniffle, sharper this time. 

“Everyone else belongs somewhere. I…don’t.” 

Silence settles between them. Mike turns, trying to gauge Will’s reaction. Will’s eyes are shiny and concerned, eyebrows furrowed with a soft, helpless sorrow as he scans Mike’s face for answers. 

Mike lets out a breath. “Woah, I made that way too deep,” he says with half a laugh, though one of the words cracks in the middle. 

Will quickly shakes his head. “N- no , Mike, it’s…” He trails off in a whisper, glancing around like he’s searching for the right thing to say, and Mike knows he’s coming up with a reassurance as his sweet mind always does. “It’s okay to feel like that, I– I’ve felt that way before.” 

“You have?” 

Nodding like it’s something Mike should have known, Will coughs and tightens his soft grip on Mike's arm. 

“Mhm, yeah. Back—back when you guys all used to talk about girls and stuff,” Will says, voice quieter. “I felt kind of like a little kid or something. It—it was complicated , yeah, but mostly, looking back, I felt kinda like a fraud amongst my friends,” Will explains, looking down at last. Mike shifts to subconsciously reach for Will’s hand, instantly registering the feverish heat against his own palm. 

Why couldn’t he have figured all of this out earlier? Why couldn’t they live in a world where he never had to figure this shit out at all ? 

“Will,” Mike whispers, rubbing a thumb over the back of Will’s hand, the lump in his throat only growing larger. “I’m so sorry. You always belonged with us—”

Blowing out a breath like he’s sputtering, Will shrugs. “Pfft, don’t—don’t be sorry. Especially now that we know you were overcompensating anyway.”

He says it like it’s an inside joke. Of course it would be, between two boyfriends, two gay people sharing a sense of mutual understanding. Only they would get it. 

Mike feels a laugh bubbling up, letting himself revel in that brief, blissful moment of belonging—before the sting of juxtaposing tears prickles behind his eyes. There’s nothing quite like being reminded of how stupid you used to be, how that stupidity somehow makes you feel even more undeserving of everything good. Of this title. 

Will’s boyfriend, Will’s love. He knows that’s definitely not what Will meant, of course, but it stings anyway. 

Will clearly notices the shift in mood. His voice drops lower, raspier. “What’s up?” His hand squeezes tighter, despite his weakened state, leaning towards him like he’s bracing for a cuddle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” Mike falters, his voice barely above a whisper. “That still doesn’t explain how I feel.” Mike stares down at their hands interlocked, feeling a little shameful. 

Will sniffles. “Oh. Okay,” he replies softly. 

Mike squeezes his eyes shut. His chest tightens with guilt, because Will deserves a hell of an explanation for all this crap. 

“No, I meant—” he grunts in frustration. But the sensation of Will’s warm hand in his, the grounding weight of their legs tangled under the blankets, Will’s other hand resting gently on his ribcage. It helps. It lets him breathe. 

“I meant,” Mike says again, calmer. “I definitely felt like that before. For so long. But I mean even after all that stuff, too.” Will cocks his head, eyes locked on Mike’s face, thoroughly attentive despite his condition. Mike clicks his tongue. 

“I mean, I’m gay,” Mike begins lowly. He leans closer, so close that Will’s face is practically the only thing in his peripheral vision. Somehow, even up close—where Mike’s supposed to see all of his ‘gross’ sick symptoms—Will looks so pretty . 

Definitely gay. “Yeah…and I feel like I haven’t taken a class. It’s like I’ve been put into a job with no training, nothing. Worse, I’ve been put into a job I didn’t know I could be paid for.”

It’s a dumb metaphor, and Mike cringes at himself when he replays it in his head. But Will considers it like it’s not dumb, and Mike feels his heart swell with gratitude. Will’s eyes glitter with something indescribable, and he smiles, genuine and pure, like always. 

“Yeah?” Will says, his voice all tender, like he’s the one nursing Mike back to health and not the other way around. Mike nods at that, coming to a pause, but Will would never allow a longer silence, “What else, Mike?”

Opening his mouth, Mike breathes deeply, feeling the air seep through his lungs and spread across his body, releasing the tension. The same worries pertain, but they’re not as heavy, not when Will rubs his thumb over Mike’s as if to say ‘that’s it,’ and suddenly makes everything feel right in the world. 

“No one’s ever let me feel these things before,” Mike whispers, hoping it’s implied that Will is the one who’s given him the courage to feel like this. Will’s reaction is unclear, but Mike can’t complain about a warm kiss on the cheek as Will rests his head back on the pillow near Mike’s face. Warmth blooms in his chest. 

“Uhm,” Mike tries to continue without blushing, but it’s pretty useless. “Even I haven’t let myself feel things like this. Actually, especially me. I denied myself so much, I literally used to hate the thought of being this way. And now I suddenly am this way and it’s all so new and—ugh,” he grunts, throwing his hand over his face, hoping he’s not tiring Will out with this incessant rambling. Or worse, worrying him. 

Silence follows for a moment, broken only by the occasional quiet sniffle from Mike’s left. He knew this was going to be hard. He knew that Will might even be hurt by the fact that Mike doesn’t know anything about who he is. Who they both are. 

Mike startles when he feels a hand on his own, slowly pulling them away from his face. He blinks at Will, who leans over him, confusion and concern written all over his face. But it’s nothing like the hurt Mike had expected. 

“You feel like a fraud…because you haven’t explored your…” Will raises his eyebrows like Mike’s supposed to fill in the blanks, but he’s coming up with nothing. He gestures for Will to continue, his heart racing a little faster than he would like. 

“Your sexuality?” 

Instinctively, Mike’s chest tightens at the notion. Blood rushes to his face as he feels Will’s eyes drilling into his skin. He also knows, in an instant, that this isn’t right—he shouldn’t feel so ashamed, he shouldn’t feel like that word has the power to unmake him, to pull him apart at the seams. He shouldn’t, but he does, and that’s what makes him feel so undeserving of this. 

Shallowly, Mike nods, looking down at their hands again. A tugging in his chest almost pulls him upright, almost makes him burst into tears. It’s not fair; he loves this so much, loves Will so much. He wants to hold him, be with him, spend life with him in an apartment, a place that’s theirs, in a world that belongs to them and no one else. But he’s not even close to knowing whether they were allowed . What they were. What that meant and how to say it to other people who knew them. 

“Mike,” Will breathes, a surprising smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“I just feel like I don’t know anything,” Mike says, shying away as he hears his own voice breaking. 

Will sniffles and nods, but he doesn’t seem put off. Mike has no idea why he thought Will would be anything but sweet about this, it’s entirely in character for him, but that doesn’t stop him from falling even harder for him because of it. 

“So you’re upset because,” Will begins, speaking slow and gentle, “you’re a newbie?”

“What?” Mike croaks, feeling the tears collecting at the corners of his eyes suddenly halt. He’s not even sure why he’s crying, except maybe because he always gets a little more emotional whenever Will’s being nice to him. Which is often, apparently. 

“I mean, you’re new to all this, aren’t you?” Will asks, his deep voice soothing Mike’s jackrabbit heartbeat, making it feel impossible that he was panicking moments ago.

“Yeah?”

Will smiles with a small chuckle and rubs his hand up and down Mike’s arm. “You’re not a fraud for feeling like that,” he urges, eyes earnest. “Honestly, you probably belong with us even more, saying things like that. I don’t think there’s a single gay guy out there who hasn’t struggled with some self-hate about it at some point.” 

Mike’s instant reaction is to assume that Will’s just saying this to make him feel better, exaggerating. Everywhere he looks, he sees people cooler than him, more confident, less weird and off-putting. And besides, if Will is saying every single gay person has felt this, he’s implying that he has too. 

Now, Mike does remember the last big talk they had, before he’d even come out to Will, when Will admitted he’d hated himself a little for it. But at the time, Mike had been fully set on denying that. The thought of Will ever feeling like that? Even once? It stings. 

Still, even if what he says is true, that doesn’t make it any easier. Right? Mike makes a face at what Will said, unconvinced, though he does feel a little bad about acting this way while Will’s sick. Maybe he should just concede and he can get back to healing him. 

“But here’s the cool thing,” Will begins, his eyes lighting up in a way that draws Mike in. “You’re not alone. No one’s alone.”

Kind, sweet words, but—

“You can ask me anything, and I’ll tell you if I know the answer,” Will quickly adds, sniffling before shrugging his shoulders like it’s nothing. Like Mike isn’t being a total wastoid asking all this crap. 

“But to be honest, I don’t know much about everything myself,” he chuckles.

Mike frowns. “Wait, really?”

Laughing louder than Mike expects, Will looks at him with a hint of sympathy, but mostly amusement. “Oh—yeah! I’m no expert, you know,” he giggles, but there’s nothing mean-spirited in it. His voice is light, his hand tucking a stray piece of hair behind Mike’s ear, making Mike’s heart stutter. 

“I’m also learning as I go, like everyone else. Ever,” Will says simply, and the words don’t feel heavy. They don’t feel like Mike will have to wrestle with them like everything else lately. “You’re not going to know everything instantly. Everyone has to learn at some point.”

Mike blinks twice before a surge of unearned confidence washes over him. “How…how do you know these things?”

For a second, he winces, half-expecting Will to reveal something heavy he’s never shared with him before or something that will thoroughly depress Mike in all the codependent ways he’s definitely not supposed to feel. But Will just shrugs again, still continuing to stroke pieces of hair behind Mike’s ear. He chooses to take it as: There’s nothing to worry about. You’re safe.

“Because I asked people,” Will explains, “Which I gotta hand it to you, isn’t easy at all.”

Mike’s eyebrows rise higher. You can say that again , he thinks, before it feels a bit wrong, especially now with Will sitting here, using his softest voice for Mike, gently promising that it might all work out. Maybe. He’s not fully convinced yet, but the way Will’s fingers scratch behind his ears like he’s a cat or something is…extremely persuasive. 

“Which people?” he asks, curious.

“Mm—Robin,” Will says casually. “My friends here.” 

Right , Mike thinks, Will’s friends . Despite the reassurance that Mike is absolutely Will’s best friend, no contest, this whole situation makes those friends seem even more well-suited for what Will deserves. He doesn’t deserve some needy guy following him around everywhere, asking him questions about being gay all the time, someone who won’t make him better. Someone who won’t help him. 

Will seems to notice the shift in Mike’s mood, trying hard to keep eye contact. “I could…be that person for you,” he suggests shyly, voice still croaky, which somehow only makes it cuter. “If you wanted.”

Frowning, Mike rifles through the possibilities of how the hell Will got so sweet, stayed so lovely after everything. “If I want—Will…I can’t ask that of you,” he says quietly, despite leaning into the hand still in his hair. 

“What?” Will replies, voice high and disbelieving, “ Ask that of me? I—I wanna do it.” He says it like it’s something he’s actually embarrassed about, like he’s been thinking about it for a while hoping that Mike wouldn’t mind, hoping Mike would be willing to let him—

Oh . He’s been a fool. 

“You want to answer all my weird questions?” Mike asks skeptically, knowing his eyebrows are doing that crinkly thing. 

Will giggles, music to his ears. “Yes!” 

A long-awaited grin breaks across Mike’s face, slow and wide, mirroring Will’s. Briefly, he appreciates the warmth that rises in his chest at the sight of those hazel eyes crinkling at the corners, glimmering with amusement and something else. Something Mike’s pretty sure is love, though that old, stubborn part of him still doesn’t like to hope. He’s not sure why. 

“Really?”

Will stops laughing, but his smile lingers. “I’m being serious, okay?” 

He’s incredible. He’s everything Mike isn’t and more, all while sick. Mike recalls when he’d been in the same state and had barely been able to form a sentence without crying. 

Nodding shakily, Mike still senses the remnants of an odd simmering in his blood, but it cools off the only way it knows how. The warmth of Will’s presence in the bed makes him want to take action more than it makes him want to hide away. And that’s enough. 

He gives in to the urge, straining his neck slightly to pull Will into what was supposed to be a short kiss. 

Instead, the sound of Will’s surprised noise, the way he melts into it, kissing back like he’s encouraging Mike to accept this, to accept them and the new normal, makes him savour the moment for much longer. The hand is still unwaveringly in his hair like it’s Will’s anchor, the other planted above his head as Will leans on one elbow. Mike has no idea where his own hands ended up, but when he pulls back, he finds they’ve landed cradling Will’s face, and they stay there until Will, suddenly overwhelmed with something, pulls away, flushed and grinning. 

“What, uhh, what questions—” Will stammers, happiness interrupting him as a dimple in his cheek deepens. “Did you wanna ask me?”

Mike exhales with a small chuckle at Will’s state, though he can’t truly make fun of him for it, not when he’s probably crimson red, the blush likely spreading to his neck. He opens his mouth to answer immediately…then stops. 

After all that ruminating, he’s completely stumped. The overwhelming tsunami of questions suddenly dam up the moment he’s face-to-face with Will, his brain hitting a wall of static. Either everything feels too unimportant or everything’s too embarrassing, god . 

All his rehearsed words scatter like leaves in the wind, useless. He swallows, hard, and tries again, “I don’t know,” he admits, feeling a little stupid, though Will does everything but encourage that. He barely even looks surprised that Mike’s stumped. “I thought I had a thousand things to say, but they all seem silly now.”

Will frowns. “Mike,” he breathes. Every time Will says his name like that , Mike swears years get added to his life. “It’s me. Ask me literally anything, anything . It’ll be fun, trust me,” he urges, his voice rising into a teasing whine that makes it all feel easier. 

Mike laughs a little, waiting a few more seconds until his body is ready to deal with the aftermath of humiliation, then opens his mouth. That’s all until he stares into Will’s eyes, unrelenting and desperate, and completely chickens out. 

“Can you not…look at me?” Mike asks timidly, knowing it’s a weird request, and good boyfriends are probably able to keep eye contact with each other. But Will, again, nods like it’s nothing and flops down on the bed happily, settling into the pillows before coughing once, then twice. 

Hearing Will take a deep breath, Mike takes one of his own and lets it flow through his body. He says the first thing that comes to mind, the first thing that’s been gnawing at him  ever since that first kiss, ever since they fell sleep in the same bed that very night.

“Um, you—you and me,” Mike begins, feeling absent from his own body. This is so unlike him.

“Mhm.” Will sounds hopeful. 

Opening his mouth to realise he has no idea where this is going, Mike ploughs forwards anyway, even though his heart might explode, “We’re obviously…dating.” The ‘ right? ’ is unsaid, but Mike still can’t resist glancing to his left at Will, who’s just a mere centimetre away, smiling softly and nodding, already looking back at him. 

Now that he’s said it, Mike can tell Will has a million thoughts racing through his head, which he doesn’t deserve, especially not when he tries to comfort or calm Mike with the simple gesture of grabbing his sleeve lightly, silently saying I’m here. I’m here, and I won’t judge you . 

“Yeah, it’s just…” Mike regrets trailing off instantly. He licks his lips, gesturing his hands around as he stammers through, while Will watches with a calm expression, “With—uh, with El, and all those girls, um, they were my girlfriends, and stuff…” 

Gauging Will’s reaction, Mike looks over to find him looking a little confused, a brow slightly quirked like it’s a subtle signal for Mike to hurry the hell up. But all words have lost their meaning. This, this, is what he’s been worrying about all along, he can’t just ask this now . 

But here he goes, asking it. 

“So what—what would you…” Mike trails off, not knowing where his sentence is going, as Will’s expression shifts into soft surprise, his eyes widening slightly. “What would you be to me?” 

In the short space of time that Will doesn’t reply, Mike huffs a breath at himself and covers his eyes with his hands again, “This is so stupid, I sound so—”

“Hey, hey, you’re not stupid,” Will says gently, though his voice carries a small chuckle. “I said I would answer everything, yeah? So…um.” 

Mike uncovers his eyes slowly, blinking into the glow of the lamp and natural daylight pouring in through the curtains. There’s a thumb rubbing tenderly at his upper arm, sending a wave of goosebumps skittering over his skin. It’s not his turn to talk, thank god , but somehow anticipating an answer is even worse. 

“Are you…” Will starts, an infuriatingly cute grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. A small tremor runs through him, though that might just be his fever. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?” he stumbles out, like he can hardly believe it, like Mike’s going to scoff and say no . As if. 

Mike smiles and looks away, waiting a few moments before he swallows and says, “Yeah I am, if—if that’s the right word or whatever..” 

As soon as he hears Will let out a small, delighted noise, he can’t resist looking at his reaction. Relief runs through him, pouring over his head, when he spots the grin splitting Will’s face, his cheeks redder than Mike’s ever seen them. Will covers his mouth with his hand for a second, trying to calm himself down. 

“Wow—um, first of all, that is the right word. Second of all, y- yes . If you want me to be.” Will says softly. 

It makes Mike feel a little silly for ever questioning it, but…oh my god. Will is his boyfriend . The word sends a warm thrill through his stomach, shooting up his spine until the heat collects in his face, making him grin wildly. It hurts his cheeks, but it’s a good hurt. The hurt is good. 

Mike laughs, almost ridiculously, “ Yes , I–I want you to be- be my boyfriend,” he says, his voice going quieter at the end, awed by the fact. It’s a fact now, Will’s his. Which has been a matter of contention for most of Mike’s life, unlike the fact that he is Will’s , which he’s always known, deep down. 

Will smiles, teeth flashing, making Mike’s heart squeeze with affection at the sudden giddiness. He makes it impossible to forget they’re both in love, sometimes, with the constant reminders, the affection and Will’s obvious show of giddiness whenever Mike compliments him, kisses him, does anything, really. This is swell. Life can be good, if he tries hard enough. 

“Cool,” Will breathes, smiling knowingly as he leans close enough to rest his head on Mike’s shoulder, and he swears he can feel him smiling against it. 

“Very cool,” Mike adds, the pent-up energy thrumming in his veins, simmering just below the surface, until he channels it into a single kiss. He needs to crane his neck for it, but he couldn’t care less. Will sighs dreamily against him, their smile separating them until they’re a breath away apart, noses touching. 

A few seconds of laughs that begin quieter then just get louder each time—because Will’s laughter is more contagious than average—ensue, but it is soon broken by Mike’s next question. He can’t stop now, though this would be a perfect excuse. 

“Okay, so- so you’re my boyfriend,” Mike explains out loud, leaning his head back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling as he feels Will nod against him, sniffling. “Right. That means I’m you’re…?”

Will appears to wait for a moment, like Mike’s going to finish his sentence himself, but soon enough he chuckles and says, “My boyfriend.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, obviously.”

Mike doesn’t know what he expected. What else would it have been? He’s spent so long assuming that both terms needed to be different somehow, as if there had to be some clear difference between the two people, but now that he’s thinking about it, that’s not right for him. They’re equals, and that’s far more exciting. 

He’s Will’s boyfriend. 

He’s Will’s boyfriend. He’s Will’s boyfriend. He’s Will’s boyfriend. He’s Will’s boyfriend. He’s Will’s boyfriend. He’s Will’s boyfriend. He’s Will’s boyfriend. He’s Will’s boyfriend. He’s Will’s boyfriend. He’s Will’s boyfriend. He’s Will’s boyfriend. He’s Will’s boyfriend. He’s Will’s boyfriend. 

Maybe he’ll never get used to it, but the truth is, he doesn’t want to. He wants this fluttery, breathless excitement every time someone calls him Will’s boyfriend, like they come as a pair, attached. For a few days, he’d thought maybe labels and whatnot were bullshit, that maybe they should just exist as two beings, intertwined with no name. But this? This is so…enough. More than enough.

Will’s smiling at him again, and geez, this feeling . The swooping dives, the leaps, the stuttering skips his heart has taken this afternoon, they were all worth it for this. He’s Will’s boyfriend and Will’s his—

“So I’m your boyfriend and you’re my boyfriend?” Mike asks, making Will giggle at him, but it’s not the type that makes him feel self-conscious. Loved is a far better word. 

“Mhm,” Will hums in response. 

Mike grins, narrowing his eyes just a little. “We’re boyfriend-and-boyfriend?”

At that, something like pure happiness overcomes Will, and he throws his head back in laughter, only to end it in a small coughing fit that makes Mike immediately sit up, ready to help. But it’s all okay when Will waves him off, still smiling. 

“You can probably just say boyfriends , Mike—”

“Right, yeah, that- that’s better,” Mike stutters, heating a little before realising there’s no use in being embarrassed now , not after everything. 

Will hums, “Mm, do you like it?” 

Practically melting at Will’s hopeful voice, Mike turns his head towards him. There’s no other answer he can give him. It’s hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, he would have probably crumbled at the mere thought of Will being his boyfriend, of kissing a boy, of doing any of the things he’s done today. But especially this: nodding at that question. 

“I do. I like it,” he says confidently, then scrunches his nose at Will, grinning. “I love it.” 

With a quiet giggle, Will leans in and kisses him on the nose, then quickly turns away to cough into his fist. 

“I mean—I love my sick boyfriend, geez,” Mike teases to keep it light, rubbing Will’s arm as he waits for him to calm down, smiling despite how awful he likely feels. 

“I’m the sick boyfriend—” Will leans his head back, trying in vain to stifle more coughs. He lets his forehead drop to Mike’s shoulder and groans softly, giving in to the pain. “Mm, can you distract me, please? Boyfriend?”

Boyfriend. Mike grins so wide it might make his cheeks burst before remembering that grinning like an idiot probably isn’t the most helpful reaction. He’s still shocked by how much he doesn’t want this conversation to end. He could talk about being Will’s boyfriend, their future, their queerness, how they get each other, forever and ever and ever. It’s not practical, but it’s possible. Technically. 

“Do you…want me to ask for more advice?” Mike offers, almost hoping Will says yes, which surprises him more than anyone. “Of course, if you’re too sick, that’s—”

Will interrupts him with a low noise of protest, lifting his head to squint at Mike. “No, I’m fine. Ask me…things.”

“Okay,” Mike replies softly, letting Will nestle into the warm space at the crook of his neck. The feeling of Will snuggling in closer sends a pleasing shiver down Mike’s spine, before he notices how much Will is shivering too. Gently, he brings the layers of blankets up higher over them both. Despite Will’s request to ask for advice, Mike has a sneaking suspicion that he’s dozing off. He turns towards him, brushing a thumb along Will’s jaw. 

His boyfriend’s jaw. 

Only a few moments pass, which are just long enough for Mike to press one kiss to the top of Will’s head, before a whiny sound escapes from his mouth. “Miike, I said to ask me things,” Will mumbles, muffled, lightly patting Mike’s face like he’s trying to wake him up. 

“I thought you were asleep, Will,” Mike explains, laughing quietly.

“Well, ‘m not.”

Sounds like you’re about to be, Mike could say, but he doesn’t. Besides, talking to Will like this, in such close proximity, is something never to pass up. The vibrations of Will’s deep voice-never mind the strange, sick-sounding syllables he can’t quite produce–are soothing in a way. 

“Okay, uh…” Mike racks his brain for something to ask, knowing there’s a lot he could bring up, things that probably need more attention than Will’s able to give at the moment, so he avoids those. He’d probably end up crying if he talked about how to come out to his parents, how to tell all his friends, whether they’re more in literal danger now that they’re— 

No crying , Mike promises himself, steering towards a hopefully brighter topic. “Um, this might be obvious, I don’t know,” he begins, clutching Will’s hair a little tighter like he might be taken away from him as soon as he asks,

“Are we allowed to…get married?”

Will is quiet, save for a small sniffle. Maybe that was too much. They’ve only just started calling each other boyfriends, let alone talking about marriage. But whenever Mike pictures his future, Will’s there. It’s only fair—he’s in all the best memories of Mike’s past, and he’s right here in his present. So of course he has to be in his future, without a doubt.

Is this really the way to hint to Will that Yes, I want to spend the rest of my sorry, stupid life with you because you make it seem a little less stupid and a lot more like it makes sense?  

Will only hums, making Mike’s stomach lurch a little. 

“Um, not legally,” Will mumbles. 

As soon as Mike hears those serious words, words that snap him out of their own special bubble, he wants to cry, feeling that sting in his chest. It’s a reminder that there are so many people out there who hate him, people who don’t even know him—including himself, at some point, most points in his life. 

Worse, there are people out there who hate Will. He’s seen it, been unlucky enough to witness it, and it makes him want to blow up everything and crown Will the king of the universe, just so he can be safe. Especially when he looks down at the boy in his arms, who’s nuzzling in closer like he belongs there.

“Yeah,” Mike breathes, scrunching his mouth to the side to fight off any tears threatening to unravel the day. 

“But we can have a wedding,” Will says casually. 

With a twitch of his brows, Mike opens his mouth and struggles to organise the swirl of his thoughts. “But–but we can’t get married at our wedding?” The alone makes his brain spiral: the crowd, with all his family, the one that will probably never understand, and the whole thing would probably be some giant spectacle—wow, it’s so loud in his head. 

“Mike, hey,” Will says gently, looking up at him through tired but empathetic eyes, tracking the way Mike’s breathing has picked up.

“You’re so sweet,” is the first thing he says, scratching light fingers over the cotton of Mike’s shirt at his chest, his voice a mix of endearment and sombre understanding. 

“Look,” Will begins when Mike doesn’t seem to calm down, his mind racing through visions of the future. “A wedding and marriage shouldn’t just be this legal thing. In my opinion, or—or my friends’ opinions, but I agree with them.”

Mike’s head is full, especially at the notion of comparing himself to Will’s friends again, but he convinces himself to focus only on what matters right now: Will’s voice, Will’s fingers, the birds tweeting somewhere outside on campus. 

“I think,” Will whispers, staring up at Mike with an adoration that sends a thrill through his stomach, “that I should be able to stand up in front of the people I care about—my family, my friends—and express how much I love…” A small cough. “How much we love each other to everybody in the whole fucking world. Okay? To me, that’s…far better than signing some document that means “true” marriage.”

Mike lets out a shaky breath. Holy shit. He’s never thought of it like that before, and now that he’s heard it, it’s ridiculous that he ever thought any other way. He can’t fault Will for agreeing with his friends. That’s…just exactly what he needed. 

Tightening his arms around Will, Mike looks down at him, watching the fondness in his expression, the slight gloss in his eyes that he tells himself is from the sickness. He knows he could tease Will about how this clearly means he wants to marry him. He knows he could jump for joy and run around the world screaming to people that he gets to have Will in his future, no matter what anyone else says or does. But instead, he just says,

“Is that enough for you?” He hopes his voice makes it obvious that it would be more than enough for him. 

Will smiles and shrugs, but it’s the softest kind, like a weight rolling off his shoulders instead of onto them. “It’s more than enough,” he whispers, tucking his face back into the crook of Mike’s neck. The, You’re more than enough , goes unspoken, but it’s still heard. 

Mike closes his eyes. It’s quiet for a moment, just their breathing, Will’s occasional sniffle, and the very distant sound of laughter from somewhere across the quad. The world is waking up. But it’s all background noise. This moment rings clear. This is change, this feels like the moment. Mike takes a deep breath. He’s okay with this. More than okay. 

“And anyway,” Will adds, voice lighter and teasing, “I hope you’re okay with your mom planning our wedding—”

“God,” Mike interrupts, laughing softly. “She’d go full apocalypse mode.”

Will leans back to look at his boyfriend again, a grin plastered across his red face. “She’d go all out for a gay wedding. I mean, we’d have table centrepieces shaped like rainbows and walk down the aisle to Bowie or something.” 

The fact that Will assumes Mike’s mom would not only be okay with them, but be that over-the-top accepting, almost makes Mike cry. He could have refuted it, pointed out the real possibilities, but Mike lets himself laugh, surprised by himself. He really laughs, until his forehead is pressed against Will’s, and their noses bump, stretching the moment out sweet and certain. 

“Okay, that actually sounds kind of awesome,” Mike giggles, nodding as Will begins to nod back. 

“It does , right?” Will grins, and it’s so dazzling, the moment so serene, that Mike could have kissed him not just right there and then, but out in the wide blue sky, where everyone could see. Where everyone would say that it’s not right , but he’d know they were just jealous. Maybe that’s the point of this. 

“Alright,” Mike says softly, nodding once. “We’ll have a wedding someday. It might not be legal or official or whatever. But it’ll be ours.” It’ll be real . This isn’t just some fantasy. It’s not a far-off hope he’d sworn would never come true. 

Will responds with a little hum, squeezing Mike closer like he wants him there forever, making Mike squeeze back, unable to resist running his hands through the soft hair at the back of Will’s head. He startles a little when Will begins kissing his jaw, then his cheek, then his whole face, until it melts into shared laughter, Will biting his lip, smiling wide and earnest. 

“I’m glad I had this talk with you,” Will says, a little sleepy, but it doesn’t take anything away from the sincerity. He lowers his voice, softer now as he snuggles back into his usual spot. “I’m really proud of you.”

Mike’s heart squeezes with affection, the words catching him off guard. “Oh—stop,” he gushes.

“Seriously!” Will shakes him gently, giving him a stern but impossibly loving look. “You should be so much more proud of yourself.”

Mike’s face feels like it’s on fire. He lets out a small, nervous laugh, already ready to drop the subject. He wraps his arm around Will’s waist and starts tracing small lines up his back, like the motion might somehow lull him to sleep and end the conversation before it gets into this territory. 

“Mike,” Will murmurs again, catching his attention with two soft kisses at his chin. “Say it.” 

“Say what?” he says, playing innocent. 

Will groans, sniffling. “That you’re proud of yourself.”

Deep down, Mike knows what Will means. He’s aware of how far he’s come since everything finally snapped into colour, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. There’s always more to say, more to figure out, more to be. Today’s been wonderful so far, but in his mind, that’s all because of Will, not him. 

“For what?” he mumbles, taking in a deep breath of Will’s familiar scent, hoping it might make him fall asleep quicker. 

He senses Will’s silence is him rolling his eyes before he weakly shakes Mike and exclaims, “For coming out to me, for being braver than I ever was.”

“Oh—bull shit , you’re brave, Will,” Mike retorts, unwilling to entertain any self-deprecating talk after Will practically saved him from a downward spiral.

“Mike, look—okay, it doesn’t matter who’s braver or whatever,” Will says gently, leaning up to surprise Mike with a kiss on the lips, one that Mike knows he’ll have to return at some point. “What matters is that you’ve basically turned your life upside down. You’ve changed your whole belief system in, like, three weeks. That’s really something to be proud of. You let yourself be. You’re amazing.”

Mike wants to deny, deny, deny. But it almost feels wrong to tell his boyfriend, the boy he loves, that he’s lying, that he doesn’t understand him. Because the truth is, Will understands everything, just like Mike always suspected. He knows how fucking hard this was. 

“I didn’t do it for me,” he admits, barely a whisper, point weak and deficient. “I did it because it was so hard lying to everyone. To you, obviously. I couldn’t keep hiding from you.”

Will shakes his head calmly, fingers scratching gently, comfortingly, at the back of Mike’s neck, grazing the small tufts of hair. “But you still did it. You needed help and you asked for it, and that’s good. That’s so good,” he whispers, nosing his way to kiss once or twice at Mike’s neck. “I know it doesn’t feel like a big heroic thing—given what we’ve been through before—but it is. I promise.”

Mike stares past Will into nothing, but also everything. Maybe there’s truth in that, he can admit, thinking back to how hard all that Vecna nightmare was. But it barely even holds a candle to this, which should sound crazy, but not to Mike. 

His voice is thick when he says, “It just—it still feels weird. Like I’m pretending or, I’m gonna wake up tomorrow and forget to be this person who says it all out loud.”

Will doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifts closer, crowding Mike’s face with his own as he presses their foreheads together. He exhales like he’s emptying all the peace he has inside into this moment, all it takes to calm them both down forever. 

“I’ll always remind you,” he says, “Every day if I have to.” 

“Remind me that I…I’m allowed to…” Mike pauses, swallowing. “To be gay?” It still feels weird to say it aloud. But every day it gets a little easier, and that’ll continue. The time will pass, and it will becomes just another word. 

“If you want,” Will replies, kissing a spot on Mike’s jawbone, “But also that I love you, a lot. A lot a lot,” he adds with a little laugh, and Mike’s not joking when he thinks that he’ll never get tired of hearing that. 

“God,” he breathes, letting out a long, cleansing exhale, like he’s releasing all the polluted air he’s been holding in for years. It drifts out the open window, carried away by the wind. “I really do love you.” 

He feels Will shiver underneath him, probably all giddy again, which Mike can definitely see himself finding endearing forever. Everything about Will, the dimple on his left cheek, the beauty marks on his lip and arms, the way his hair always gets messier on the right side because that’s the side he sleeps on. Mike loves, and he loves, and maybe that’s all he needed to stop feeling like a fraud. 

Yes, he’d needed answers, he’d needed to know exactly where he belonged, but he didn’t have to search far and wide. The answer was right next to him the whole time, riding a bike with him, playing video games with him, sleeping in the bed to his left. 

A tear rolls down his nose, but he has no intention of wiping it away. He lets it sit and seep into him, lets it change him. 

“Mm, Mike?” Will mumbles, fingers still at Mike’s nape, lips still hovering near his skin. His fever can still be felt in the soft tremble of his body.

“Yes?” 

“I’d love you even more if you brought me my medicine from the bathroom,” he drawls, leaning back to flash a grin that he probably thinks looks smooth, but is almost completely ruined by weakness in his body. 

For a moment, Mike just cups Will’s chin and kisses him, exactly where he probably shouldn’t. On those warm, soft lips he’s been watching, wanting, feeling. Will lets out a noise, and when Mike slowly pulls away just to savour it, Will’s eyes barely even open, lips parted in a satisfying surprise. 

With that, Mike finally feels like he’s played the game of life right. All of the bad was worth the good. 

“Sure,” he says, then breaks into a grin he doesn’t even try to hide, his face beet-red. “Medicine for my boyfriend.”

Will’s eye glints and he pokes Mike’s cheek. “Yeah.”