Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Will spent the next two weeks the same way he spent most of his summer; alone. He worked hot days behind the checkout counter and lived a life of brown bags, clipped coupons, and short conversations.

Then, he went home, where he lay awake in the evenings reading comics and listening to the din of cicadas and tree frogs outside his window. He had accidentally brought home a T-shirt of Mike’s in one of his bags, and he wore it most nights. It was a little big on him, overlapping the line of his boxers with the thin fabric as he slipped it on before bed.

He tried calling twice. The first time Ted answered. Will hung up without saying anything. The second time he talked to Karen. She spoke kindly to him, at least, when she told him Mike was out. Will wasn’t sure if he believed her, but he didn’t spot Mike when he drove past later that night. The blinds on his bedroom window were shut and dark.

Will didn’t quite give up until the fourth day. He came home around three from an early morning shift exhausted from the heat, and tried calling for the third time.

He got nervous before he did it, with the receiver against his sweaty palm and his heart in his throat. The small, optimistic part of him said this might be the call where Mike would finally pick up the phone, and they would both find the right thing to say.

But nobody answered. The phone rang out into oblivion. With every tone, Will’s heart sank. He tried calling again ten or so minutes later. It rang out for a second time.

Will put down the phone, hard, and leaned his forehead against the wallpaper, blinking away tears.

He knew he shouldn’t cry about it. He was in a situation of his own making.

Play stupid games, win stupid fucking prizes.

Give into the infatuation, lose your best friend.

He went outside to try to keep himself from breaking down completely. The wind blew hot as he pushed out the screen door, but it didn’t dry the tears that blinked into his lashes and itched down his face.

It was another in a string of endlessly sunny days, and his clothes on the back line were bone-dry and stiff as he pulled them off and into his laundry basket.

The clothes were the ones he had brought home from that weekend, and he tried not to remember the way it felt when Mike stripped these exact items off of him; the way he unbuttoned these jeans, or the way he had trailed his fingers up under the hem of this shirt. He held them up to his nose and imagined he could still smell the Coppertone and sweat lingering on them.

Joyce found him there, with tears in his eyes and his face buried in a t-shirt. She helped him pull down the rest of his laundry and took the basket out of his hands. Inside, they sat on the living room carpet, folding.

She asked what was wrong, but Will couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth.

“You can talk to me about anything, you know,” she said, and Will just nodded, focusing on the shorts in his hands.

The next night, when Karen Wheeler called the house phone to tell Joyce something she really thought she ought to know, Joyce was curt with her.

“I think I’ll stop you there, Karen, 'cause I don’t need the details. Thanks for calling. M’bye.”

She hung up the phone and gave Will a long, pitying look before pouring them both a glass of wine, a cheap white that they watered down with ice cubes. It tasted like vinegar on Will’s tongue and went to his head faster than expected.

She let them get halfway through their glasses before she even brought up the topic of Mike.

Will was grateful for that, at least. Though, the knowledge that she knew ate him.

“So this thing with Mike,” she began, finally. “Tell me about that.”

Again, Will didn’t know what to say to her. He didn’t know how to explain himself.

“It just happened, Mom,” he whispered.

“When you were out on the trip?”

“Yeah,” He nodded.

“Had anything been going on before that?” She asked.

“No. I mean…” Will hesitated, thinking about all those touches, everything that he had embalmed with meaning for years.

“No,” He concluded firmly. “At least, not for him.”

“But for you?”

Will shook his head, looking down at the table.

“You love him,” She said, and he nodded, stiffly.

“Since when?”

“I don’t know. Forever, probably.”

“And on the trip?”

“He, we…” Will tried to measure how much detail he should go into. How was he supposed to tell this story? Maybe there was only one way.

“We had sex,” He said, bluntly. “And we sort of, fooled around, the whole weekend,” He couldn’t look up at her, into her big sincere eyes. This would be different, he measured, if he were talking about a girl. It would be so much less of an admission of guilt. “We mostly just, like, spent time together. Like we used to, I guess. But then we got into a fight, I guess.”

“About what?”

Will shrugged. “I don’t know,” he didn’t know how to explain it. “I um, I freaked out, like I do sometimes. Because um, his parents had heard us. Well, you know that, I guess. She told you.”

Her next question surprised him.

“Did you have fun?” she asked.

Will shrugged. That was the worst part. Despite it all, he enjoyed it.

“Yeah. Yeah, I sort of did. I guess.”

“Good,” she nodded, like that settled it. Then, she frowned, taking a drink from her glass.

“Just promise me something, okay?” she said, seriously. “Promise me you’ll protect yourself.”

“We-uh, we used a condom,” he said, heat rising across his nose and cheeks.

“Well,” she cleared her throat, and he thought she might be burying a laugh. “As glad as I am to hear that, that’s not actually what I meant. Will, I mean,” She sighed, reaching out for his hand. He let her take it. “Promise me you’ll protect your heart.”

Will swallowed a scoff. “I think he’s the one that needs to be protected from me.”

Joyce knit her eyebrows. “Mike? From you?”

“I feel like I,” the words caught in his throat. He had been thinking them for days on end, and yet he could barely find the strength to say them. “I think I took advantage of him,” he finally admitted.

Joyce squeezed his hand, shaking her head. “Tell me what you mean.”

“He’s never, I mean, he’s never shown interest in anything like that. Like, being with a guy. I instigated, and he–because I like touching him, you know? And what if he just went along because–I don’t know.”

“Did he ever tell you were doing something he didn’t want to do?”

Will frowned, because he hadn’t. But breaking it down into simple terms like that didn’t work for this case. It wasn’t that simple. Not when he had been touching Mike for months, thinking about him for months with his hand down his pajama bottoms in the middle of the night – coming to the thought of him. He had been pushing for this, and Mike hadn’t. That was the way it was simple. That was the way he was guilty. She didn’t understand.

“Will, talk to me,” She said, and he looked up, coming back from his thoughts.

“No,” He confirmed, and she looked relieved. “but I’m worried he regrets it. Maybe he did it because he knew I wanted to. He hasn’t called.”

“Oh, baby.”

She hadn’t called him baby in quite a while, and he felt like a child.

He took a deep breath, his nose running from the tears he was holding back. He wiped it on his sleeve. The wine glass suddenly felt like a prop in his hands, and he set it down.

“He hasn’t answered the phone, and he told me he would call. I feel like I did something wrong. I did do something wrong.”

“You didn’t,” she said, firmly.

“You don’t know that,” he countered, in a tone so pathetic he was almost whining. “You weren’t there. It’s–”

“You are a good kid, Will,” she said, meeting his eyes. Her hand against his was firm and reassuring. “You always have been. There is nothing wrong with what you did,” she said.

“But Mom, I–” He choked, the tears finally coming.

“No,” She shook her head, squeezing his hand. “No matter what you’re thinking, or feeling, there is nothing wrong with it. Okay?”

Will nodded, embarrassed by the whimper that sounded from his throat as he tried to swallow back a sob.

“Can you say it for me, honey?” she asked.

“Say what?” He shook his head.

“That you didn’t do anything wrong? I need you to say it.”

“I–” Will choked. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and took a deep breath. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” his voice trembled. He sniffed and took a breath.

“I didn't do anything wrong,” he repeated, firmly. A tear rolled down his nose and dropped onto their hands.

“Good. Alright,” she nodded, seeming satisfied. “We can talk about it more, or we can watch a movie. Any movie.”

“Movie, please,” he said, quickly. He didn't want to think about it anymore.

She nodded, and let go of his hand. But she held him tight that night, both under the same knit blanket with his head on her chest.

For the next few days, he tried to put it out of his mind. His heart still ached, and he felt sick with hatred for what he had done, but made it his mission to enjoy the ebb of summer while he still had the chance.

On one of his days off, he drove Dustin up to Michigan to buy a turtle from a friend of a friend he met at a reptile conference. They ended up at the house of an over-talkative middle-aged man, who showed them around his dark house full of glass enclosures and kept trying to get them to stay until both of them were creeped out, and they fled. Dustin insisted that there was something special about the turtle, but he just looked regular to Will. They named him Zaratan, and let him climb all over Will’s car while they drove home.

He went to the lake with El after work one night and watched the sunset from the dock, eating root beer floats and talking about their family in a way they couldn’t when they were both cooped up in the house. They laughed about all the ways their parents could be completely stifling. So often, he forgot that this was only her fifth year being part of a family. He regretted all the little ways he had been cruel to her: complaining to their parents when she didn’t do the dishes or getting water all over her makeup when she left it on the sink. He looked at her, brown hair glowing in the orange light, and he ached for how much he would miss her in only a few short days.

He tried his best for that whole week to think of anything but Mike, and the guilt he was carrying for what they did together. He tried to keep his own words from that night from coming back to him, but they still did. In quiet moments, or when he woke up early in the mornings before work, they echoed in his mind.

You don’t want this, not just so you can fuck me, or play dress up, it’s not worth it. Don’t play around with being a queer just because you feel like it and ruin your life.

Days ticked by, and before he knew it, the summer slipped through his hands. He started to say his goodbyes to the town. Hawkins had tried to destroy him in more ways than one but still was home.

He saw Mike almost two weeks after the day he left Will on the porch.

It was Will’s last day of work, and he had a short trip to Chicago planned for the weekend.

He was going to drive up as soon as he got off. His car was filled up, and he had his backpack sitting in the back seat. He didn’t know exactly where in the city he was headed, or where he was going to stay, but he needed to get out.

He thought this trip he might go for a guy like his first. Some sturdy, blue-collar guy if he could find one. Someone who wouldn’t make him think of Mike. Someone who would make him feel protected if someone started harassing them with all the words Will already called himself in his own head.

He just needed to get through his shift first.

It was Thursday, delivery day for most of the frozen items, and half that staff was occupied unpacking. Will was up at the front, just him and a young mom who worked there part-time. She was gregarious and sarcastic, and Will liked working with her most of the time. But she was slow as anything, and today the store was busy.

Most customers were too chivalrous to complain to the pretty girl with the high ponytail and homemade pony bead necklace, but they had no problem bitching out all their complaints to Will. He had been dealing with people’s demands all day, and he was only becoming increasingly surly.

He needed to keep this job for when he came home on breaks, and that was the only thing keeping him remotely civil.

Will hit a low point when a grinning old lady handed him a flier that read “Seek Eternal Life” on one side and “There is Hope for Sinners” on the other. She reached out and grabbed his hand in her soft, hot one and leaned forward.

“Hell is real,” she whispered, and he recoiled fiercely.

Didn’t he know it.

Just as he was about to throw the pamphlet back in her face, cut his losses, and run, Mike walked through the door.

He stopped by the entrance, and Will called “Aisle Three.”

Mike made a beeline towards him, and Will turned back to the old woman.

“I have other customers to get through ma’am,” he said, brusquely, dropping the paper into the trash can under his register and ushering her along.

Mike waited in line behind two shoppers, standing impatient and rocking back on his heels Will tried his hardest not to pay him any extra attention, just beeped groceries through and pretended like his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest.

“Will, I need to talk to you,” Mike said, as soon as he got to the front of the line.

“Are you buying anything?” Will asked, bluntly.

Mike dropped a pack of strawberry bubble gum onto the counter, rooting around in the pocket of his bright blue shorts and handing Will a quarter and a dime.

“I promise, I have a good excuse.”

“I-I’m at work, Mike,” Will said. He wanted to be dismissive and tell Mike to go, but he could already feel his resolve faltering.

“Can’t take a break?” Mike asked, doe-eyed and slightly demanding.

“I mean, maybe in a little bit We’re really busy.”

“Can I just talk to you?” Mike pleaded.

Will looked around the busy store and at the clock on the wall. Then, he looked back into Mike’s wide earnest eyes and sighed.

“Fine. Five minutes,” he conceded.

“This aisle is closed,” Mike said, tersely, as someone wheeled a cart behind him. He reached over the checkout counter and felt around until his fingers reached the switch that controlled the light on Will’s aisle, and flicked it off.

Will pulled him to the back of the store and locked them into the dairy cooler, which stood blissfully cool and empty.

The fluorescent lights shone down on the milk cartons, onto the face of some missing girl from Muncie plastered onto the side. Had he had a carton? Will couldn’t remember now. He didn’t think so. Just the posters Jonathan put up all over town, the ones that yellowed on telephone poles for months even after he came home. Will’s chest tightened, and he looked away.

Will crossed his arms over his stomach, the sweat that had covered him out at the checkout instantly chilling. They stood in silence for a minute listening to the high hum of the refrigeration unit as Will waited for Mike to explain himself.

“Sorry I haven’t come by,” Mike began, slowly. “Or called you like I said I would. Change of plans. I um,” he took a deep breath. “I moved down to Missouri early.”

Guilt soured Will’s stomach instantly.“What?! Mike, did your parents–”

“No!” Mike cut in, shaking his head emphatically. “Nothing like that. Things were just, I don’t know–I had to get out.”

“Did they pressure you?” Will interrogated him, his mind reeling.

“No!” Mike insisted. “They actually helped me move out there. My dad drove me, and everything. I mean, we agreed. It was just time.

Will finally let himself take a breath, but he still felt sick. “Actually?”

“Really,” Mike confirmed. He scratched the back of his neck, running his fingers through his low ponytail. “Now, when they saw I had taken a bunch of Nancy’s old clothes with me, we got into it again, but uh, I mean,” Mike cleared his throat, letting out a tight laugh. “They still love me. It’s just, I’m not a suitable fixture in their home anymore. Or, at least, I think that’s what my dad said, anyway. Isn’t that a funny way to put it, I– “ Mike shook his head, “But I’m an adult. So it’s not getting kicked out, it’s just moving on.”

“Mike that’s–” Will wanted to point out that sounded an awful lot like getting kicked out, but Mike’s insistence spoke too loudly for Will to push. He didn’t know what to say, but he finally settled on “I’m sorry.”

“What’s to be sorry about?” Mike shrugged, taking a long breath. “Nothing,” He answered his own question. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

“So, uh, when do you get off?” Mike changed the subject, quickly.

“6:30.”

“Got any plans this weekend?”

“I do, yeah.”

“Oh,” Mike’s face fell.

“But I can cancel them,” Will offered, quickly. “I was just going to Chicago.”

“Chicago?”

“Yeah,” Will realized, suddenly, that he had never talked to Mike about going up to Chicago. He didn’t talk to anyone about it, really.

“I have friends up there,” he explained.

“Friends?” Mike asked, raising his eyebrows. “What kind of friends?”

“Just, you know, friends.”

“Okay. Well, I was asking because I’m going back to St. Louis tomorrow. I wanted you to come with me.”

“Oh.” Will hadn’t been expecting that.

“I know it’s last minute.”

“It is.”

“But I want to be with you again. Somewhere else, again. Does that make sense?” Mike asked. He reached forward, taking Will’s hand. Mike ran his thumb along the side of Will’s palm, then pushed the pads of their fingers against each other

“Okay. Fine. I’ll–I’ll go,” Will conceded.

“Good,” Mike lit up, grinning. “I’m glad. I’ve thought about you, the past few days,” he said, dropping his voice low. “I thought about being with you and I–I couldn’t stop thinking about sucking you off. About the way you taste.”

Will felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Mike, I’m at work.”

“I know. But no one can hear us here, right?” Mike raised an eyebrow, wrapping his hand around his wrist.

“No. No, probably not,” Will shrugged. He was too paranoid, but even the smallest hint of suggestion sent his heart racing.

“Can I–” Mike bit his lip, looking down at the linoleum floor, and then back up at Will.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked.

Will looked up at him, at the quiet hopefulness in his eyes.

Little goosebumps lined Mike’s arms, and Will ran his finger down them.

“Yeah. You can,” he breathed, and Mike looked at him, smiling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Mike leaned down, putting his hand on the back of his neck. The kiss was soft and chaste, but Will pulled away with a smile. They looked at each other for a long moment before Mike suddenly turned his head to the door.

“Okay, um, sorry. You can go back to work now. Let’s get out of this freezer,” He said.

“You go first,” Will said. “I’ll wait, and come back in a minute or two. It’ll look better that way.”

Mike nodded and reached out to hold his hand along the shelf. He trailed his fingers on the metal as he walked past, navigating around the boxes when the toe of his shoe gently bumped one. He stopped just before he pushed through the door. He flicked off the fluorescents, casting them both into complete darkness except for the light coming from the cracked door.

“Mike, wait,” Will called after, stepping forward. “Leave the light on.”

“You have to trust yourself,” Mike said, and then swung the door shut. The sliver of light disappeared, casting him into complete darkness.

Mike’s footsteps faded as he walked away, and then the total silence took over Will, only the hum of the cooler fans for company.

The darkness pressed around him, and freezing air caught stiff and sharp in his lungs. If he closed his eyes, he could see no less than he already did.

He knew the way to the front of the cooler, only twenty or so feet away. The boxes stacked up along the walls and in the aisle weren’t dangerous, only inconvenient if he ran his shin into them. And still, he hesitated. His fingers ghosted over his pocket, though he knew he didn’t have his lighter in his work jeans.

He would have to walk to the front to turn on the lights.

He took a few deep breaths of frigid, sharp air. Will took a faltering step forward, then another. He would be out of here in seconds if he only trusted that what was in front of him would be reliably what it had been seconds ago. He knew there was a stack of milk cartons to the left and a few gallons on the floor in front of the shelf through the right. If he kept his hand on the rail and then stepped away when he felt he was getting close to the gallons, he would be fine.

Still, he was almost choked with dread at the idea of not knowing.

He took two more steps, and then stepped away from the shelf and kept walking. He hit a ridge in the floor and almost tripped, but he righted himself and stepped towards the door.

He got to the cold steel face of the door and pressed himself against it, feeling for the handle. He found it, pushed forward, and was back inside the bright lights of the supermarket.

He looked back into the hold of the cooler and felt silly.

As he resumed his post at the check-out counter, there was already a line waiting under the dark light of his aisle, and half of them looked pissed off.

He repeated the mantra that this was the last time he would have to do this until he came home from Thanksgiving.

Mike stuck around until Will’s shift ended, pretending to be shopping.

He was sort of a hazard, really. He knocked over two separate end-cap displays. Will put them back up, while Mike apologized, embarrassed.

“It’s fine,” Will reassured him, stacking cans back onto the shelf. “Happens all the time.” It didn’t, but Mike looked relieved after he said it.

His shift ended, blissfully, and he clocked out. He told his boss goodbye, who told him to come back to work whenever he was in town, and then he hightailed it out to the parking lot.

Mike was waiting for him, smoking a cigarette and leaning against Will’s car.

“Where are we going?” Will asked.

“I’m starving. So, burgers. Then, the skate park? If that’s okay. I sort of have plans with Max, and she’ll be pissed if I ditch her. Might not let me in bed with her. And, you know, she’s where I’m crashing tonight.”

“Okay, sure,” Will nodded. He didn’t mind hanging out with Max. Even though he had spent much of the early summer with her, he hadn’t seen her in the past few weeks.

“You ready now?” Will asked.

“Any time,” Mike nodded.

“I mean, I would offer to drive, but…” Mike flicked his cigarette ash and grinned playfully.

“Yeah, how did you even get here?” Will asked.

“Train,” Mike shrugged. “Lucas got me from the station, and I stayed last night with Max. You know, slumber party and all that. Painted our nails. Well, tried. Mostly, I painted my fingers.”

“Girls night,” Will said, and Mike tightened his lips.

“Something like that,” he said.

“How come I’m never invited to girls' night?” Will asked, and he was half joking. In some ways, it was nice that the girls never treated him differently. “I could paint your nails, yanno.”

“Too butch,” Mike took a long drag.

“Do your parents even know that you’re here?”

Mike pointedly ignored him, feeling along the side of the car for the handle and dropping the butt of his cigarette.

Mike bought him dinner and they sat in the parking lot, eating. It went without saying that neither of them wanted to join the throng of Friday night teenagers smoking and making out at picnic tables outside the diner. They turned on music, and Will watched them while Mike reclined his seat so he was staring at the ceiling.

They drove Will’s beater the long way around town and down into the setting sun. A soft violet sky stretched over crooked telephone poles, white clouds touched with orange and blue in the setting sun.

He wished Mike could see exactly what he was seeing, an endless horizon of green corn and sunset, and his best friend nestled in his passenger’s seat.

At one point, Mike leaned over and put his hand on Will’s thigh. Will’s groin twinged with something hopeful, and gentle.

They got to the skatepark just as the streetlights were coming on, glowing orange and buzzing with summer bugs.

Max was there, waiting for them. She sat with her back against the metal bench, headphones on. She tipped her head back toward the sky, the brim of her baseball cap pointed into the air, and her red curls in a long, thick braid down her back. Little pieces had broken loose and curled around her face and the seams of the hat. Despite the heat, she wore athletic shorts and a too-big sweatshirt that Will identified as Lucas’.

Mike greeted her from afar, calling across the concrete landscape. She looked up and took her headphones off one side of her ear.

“Mike?” she called.

“And Will,” Mike called back.

“And Will!” She stood up, smiling.

“Hey!” Will called.

They approached, making their way towards her bench. Mike sat down next to her, and Will next to him.

“You losers are finally out doing something on a Friday night!” She grinned. “It’s a miracle.”

“And you’re exactly where you always are every Friday night,” He teased.

“At least I invite you,” she huffed.

“What other friends do you have to invite?” He snarked.

Max shifted, sitting on her knees and putting her hands on Mike’s thighs. He leaned forward and got right up in his face.

“You’re a bitch,” she said, leaning close to his ear. He lunged forward and kissed her on the cheek, and she slapped him. He caught her wrist, laughing, and kissed the back of her hand. Her fingernails were painted the same shade as his.

Mike put his hands on her sides, looping his fingers into her belt loop and pulling her forward.

She sat up on his lap, their bodies pressed close together. They both grinned, and though they were close it all felt so casual.

She took the clip out of her hair and reached around the sides of Mike’s head, running her fingers through his hair. She pulled it back and twisted it into the clip.

“You ready?” she asked, pulling away from him.

“Not even close,” He said, digging in his pocket and pulling out a cigarette, and his lighter.

Max grabbed her board from where it sat under the bench and walked toward the edge of the bowl. She reached down, feeling the curve of the concrete, and then positioned herself.

“Isn’t it, like, dangerous?” Will called after her. Max turned around.

“Oh, is it?” Max quipped, feigning surprise. “Wow, that’s so helpful, Byers. Mike, big news, this guy says it’s dangerous for us to skate,” she said, sarcastically.

“I guess you gotta stop then,” Mike shrugged, putting an arm around Will’s shoulder.

Max scoffed.

“I mean, just like, skating at night? I don’t know,” Will was flailing. He felt anxious the way he always was when someone in their friend group crossed what he perceived the line to be. He had been anxious like this the first time El got drunk, or when Lucas climbed on the roof of the old convenience store. He got nervous like this when Mike put on lipstick, and kissed him like he loved him.

“Maybe it’s worse at night for this dipshit,” Max pointed at Mike “But it makes no difference to me, and I prefer to skate when there’s no risk of me breaking some toddler on a scooter’s neck.”

“It’s fine,” Mike said, softly. He turned to look at Will and rubbed his shoulder gently. “Don’t worry about it.”

Will nodded, biting his lip. “Sorry,” He said. He knew he was patronizing.

“I think it would be more dangerous for you to skate,” Mike laughed, clapping Will on the back.

“I think we should make him,” Max called, lining up at the edge of the bowl.

Will barely had time to say “Absolutely not,” before she dropped in.

There was no way to describe it except to say that she flew. She moved without hesitation. The ease with which her body flowed left no question that she would make it to the other side, or land a flip. She was dancing, and Will was mesmerized until the second she came to a stop, flipping the board up into her hands.

Mike went next, and though he wasn’t quite as graceful as Max, he made it to the other side with no problem, flipping his board up on the curve and then dropping back in, backward. He got to the edge again, snatched the board with a stumble, and walked back to them.

“You know, it’s not really so bad,” he commented, handing Max’s board back to her.

“That’s because you’re used to skating on a board with shit bearings,” She teased, standing up.

“You gave me that skateboard,” he said, incredulously.

“And you didn’t take care of it!” She responded.  “So when are you taking your turn, Byers?” Max suddenly turned toward him.

Will froze, shaking his head before realizing neither of them could see him. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

“Yeah, we know,” Mike said, a wicked edge to his voice.

“What’s your excuse?” Max handed the board to him. “Got one better than being blind?”

“I…okay,” he nodded. “I’ll try it, I guess.”

“It’s fun,” Mike reassured him.

He got to the edge and looked down into the drop. The slope of it made his stomach hurt. He stared down at his laces, lining himself up.

As he tipped over the edge, he pulled his body back at the last second in panic. He stayed on the board as the momentum pulled him down the slope, but he was deeply unsteady and tried to overcorrect for his earlier mistake.

He was falling forward, his ankles twitching as he tensed his calves and tried to keep his footing. Instead, he fell forward, the skateboard slipping out from under him and rocketing back. He smacked the ground, hard. He caught himself partially on his hands, but with the angle and the curve of the bowl, he hit his face on the concrete.

Mike ran down the slope of the bowl, stumbling on his sneakers in his hurry to get to him. Max came down after him, trailing a few feet behind.

“Will?” He called.

“I’m fine,” Will mumbled, trying to get to his feet. His chin throbbed, and he could taste blood welling in his mouth where his teeth had cut into his lip. He turned onto his back, hands shaking as he tried to push himself up.

Mike knelt next to him, feeling for him. He grabbed his hand, and then his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Mike asked.

“I said I’m fine,” Will bit.

“I could hear you hit the ground. Did you get hurt?”

“Mike!” he pulled away, harshly.

Mike frowned, his jaw flexing as he grit his teeth, sighing stiffly through his nose.

“Don’t pull away from me,” He demanded. “Tell me what happened.”

“I–” Will was caught between the urge to get up and pretend everything was okay, and the urge to start blubbering.

“I need to know if you need help.”

“I hit my face. I don’t think–I fell on my wrist, too, but I think it’s okay.” He flexed it, stiff and sharp with pain, but mobile.

“That’s all?”

“Yeah.”

“How hard did you hit your head,” Mike asked, putting one hand on Will’s shoulder and the other against the crown of his head, feeling through his hair.

“It’s fine. I promise,” But the words choked in Will’s throat, and he started to cry.

Mike pulled him to his chest instantly, and Will buried his nose in Mike’s t-shirt. He let himself breathe until the shock and the pain dulled to an ache.

He thought about what something like this meant between them. To be held by him, comforted by him.

Max and Mike touched each other without hesitation. They got close, and pressed their bodies up against each other. Mike seemed to like being touched by her, that he liked the intimacy.

But Will had always felt there was something deeper when Mike held him.

And maybe there was, but for the first time, he felt like maybe it wasn’t something Will created, fabricated and malevolent. If he got something from this, was he taking it? Or was Mike giving it?

Eventually, Mike let him go and they both stood up. Will took a moment to collect himself, spitting blood into the bushes and wiping his mouth. When he was ready he returned to Max’s bench.

Max slung her arm around Will’s shoulder, leaning against him.

Will didn’t get back on again, but the rest of the night was slow and dear, sticky heat and the clack of skateboard wheels.

He drove them home, Max up in the front seat next to him and Mike in the back. He kept catching a glimpse of Mike’s face as they passed under the streetlamps out of the corner of his eye. He took comfort in the fact neither of them could see the way he couldn’t stop smiling.

He walked Max and Mike up to the house, and Mike lingered under the awning so he could pull Will into a kiss, hidden behind the screen door.

“Pick me up around 9?” Mike whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’ll be there,” He promised.

They got to St. Louis the next day with the sun overhead. It shone brightly off the river as they passed over bridge into the city, and beat down on the streets.

Will parked on the curb, and Mike guided him down the street to his apartment.

As they passed along the shops that lined the street; the barber and the convenience store, they caught little snippets of the Sox game playing on radios. They heard the pitch from one window, and the run from the next.

They got sandwiches from the deli at the end of the block. Mike’s kitchen table still sat unassembled in a box so they sat on the floor in the living room and ate.

“I’d offer to cook, but I don’t even have much food in the place yet,” Mike apologized.

“And you can’t cook,” Will teased.

“Yeah, that too.”

Mike had a crumb on the side of his mouth, and Will leaned over, wiping his lip. Mike moved, catching the pad of Will’s finger between his lips. Will pressed, gently, pushing against the back of his teeth. Mike’s mouth yielded to him, pressing softly back. Mike swiped his tongue over his fingertip and then closed his lips.

Their eyes met, and even as Will drew his finger away from Mike’s mouth, they watched each other. Will could tell Mike was really focusing on him, the way his eyes swept over his face, and then back to his lips. He leaned forward, and Will closed his eyes, their lips meeting.

They made out on the carpet, with Mike above him as he pressed Will into the floor. He kissed down Will’s neck, needy and confident. He reached the collar of his shirt and mouthed at it for only a moment before insisting Will take it off.

“Will if we, um, if we want to go any further I’ll have to run downstairs,” Mike warned. “I don’t have a, like, a condom, or anything.”

“You want to go now?” Will asked, sitting up as Mike pulled back.

“Sorry, yeah,” Mike grimaced. They stood up, grabbing their shoes. Mike’s neck was blotchy and red.

“I basically don’t have anything,” He explained. “But, you know, I came here kind of suddenly. The woman downstairs is blind, actually. I mean, she’s the old person kind of blind, but it’s sort of nice. She’s already bullied the landlord into making things easy for her, so, like, they’re easy for me, too.”

“And well, like, the reason I’m saying that is because her nephew agreed to pick up groceries for me, which is nice, but I’m not going to, like, ask him to buy condoms for me. So even though I knew you were coming I didn’t go get them. I don’t know, I haven’t gone down to the convenience store on my own and I thought like, condoms might be a sort of awkward first item to buy.”

“But I guess maybe what I’m asking is if you’ll come with me later. If you think we’ll need them. Or like, just to have in case we might need them. Obviously we could do other stuff. Or like, other stuff as in just hang out. Or like, fuck, God I’m being awkward, aren’t I.”

Will realized that he had been letting Mike flounder.

“No!” he nodded quickly. “You’re not. Sorry. Yeah, I’ll go with you.”

Will had been caught up in his own thoughts. He had been looking around the living room, at the empty walls and packed boxes. Mike had just about enough to fill a single teenage boy's bedroom, and now suddenly he was tasked with filling out an entire apartment.

Mike was living here on his own. To Will, even the idea of moving into the dorms scared the shit out of him. Will felt a flash of anger at the thought that Karen and Ted had left Mike here, kicking him out with nothing.

But then again, this was the plan all along, wasn't it? That Mike was going to move here alone and find his way.

And so that must be what Mike wanted. This must not scare him, though Will couldn't imagine how. The idea sure scared the shit out of Will.

But Mike had always been braver. About everything.

And now, about being queer, too.

“We can go now if you want,” Will declared.

The walk down to the convenience store was only two or so blocks, so they walked. Tree roots had grown up under the sidewalk, and it was cracked and cobbled, so they walked on the edge of the street.

Will thought about walking downtown with him, weeks ago, holding his hand. Will wished he could take his hand now, but he couldn’t find the courage. He thought about it the entire walk there.

The bell above them tinkled as they went inside. They walked around each aisle like they didn’t know exactly where they were going. Mike went up to the counter, Will hung back and pretended to be interested in the bags of pretzels.

He followed him out quickly, a plastic bag clutched in Mike’s fist.

“I bought a lottery ticket,” Mike shoved the condoms and a scratcher into Will’s hand.

“What? Why?”

“I thought if I’m planning on coming back here, like, often. And, I am, I shouldn’t just buy condoms.”

“So you decided gambling would make you look more respectable?”

“I was already at the counter! I felt lucky! Here, I bought you candy, too,” Mike pushed a roll of Life Savers into his hand.

“And chapstick, I guess.”

Mike wasn’t going to tell Mike that the tube he had actually bought was silver lip gloss.

Will popped a piece of candy in his mouth as they walked, and scratched foil off the ticket with his nail.

Mike, infuriatingly, won twenty dollars.

They got back to the apartment, and Mike unlocked the door to let them in. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, the first door on the right down the hallway opened, and two women appeared in the doorway.

“Mike,” one of them called, and Mike looked up.

“Hi!” He called.

They stood side-by-side, the one on the right in a housedress and the other in slacks and a button-up. Her pink socks matched the roses on the other’s dress.

“Who's your friend?” She asked,

“This is Will,” He said.

“Welcome, Will,” the woman on the left smiled at him. “Any friend of Mike’s is a friend of ours.”

The ladies went out the door, and Will and Mike went up to the stairwell. Will turned his head and looked back at them as they went. The one in the dress put her hand on the other’s shoulder as they turned down the street.

“Are they?” Will asked, turning around and skipping a few steps to catch up. Mike seemed to instantly understand what he was asking.

“No idea,” Mike shook his head, shrugging. “But I mean, these are all one-bedrooms.”

When they got back upstairs, Mike stashed the condoms in his drawer. The urgency of their desire had waned, and Will volunteered to start helping Mike unpack.

The apartment was light, and pretty. The appliances were new, and the paint was fresh. But everything was bland and empty. There was nothing about this place that felt like Mike, except for the fact that he was standing in the bedroom.

There were too many boxes to know where to start, so Will just picked one at random. They were all unlabeled, and for the most part quite unorganized. He imagined Mike throwing everything he owned into boxes, hurrying to leave the place he called home for 18 years, and he was struck with remorse.

He fled here because of you.

Will opened a box of Mike’s clothes and began to hang them in the closet. Mike sorted through a box of his knickknacks, feeling them and holding them up to the light as he sorted them into piles.

Will finished, getting to the cardboard bottom of a box full of Mike’s sweaters and flannels, and opened a new one.

It took him a moment to recognize the fabrics, but when he did he started laughing.

Mike looked up at him, almost alarmed. “What? Is it Nancy’s stuff? Don’t laugh–”

“No!” Will shook his head, taking items out of the box. “No, it’s our old DnD costumes.”

“Oh,” Mike lit up. “Oh!”

He moved on his knees, coming towards Will.

“Mom said she would pack up stuff in the basement for me. I didn’t know she was packing up everything.”

Will pulled things out of the box; an old set of his Will the Wise robes now several sizes too small, Dustin’s makeshift lyre from a shoebox, and  Lucas’ foam chest piece. He even found, at the bottom, the Elf costume Nancy had worn for their campaign years ago. Almost a decade, at this point. He pulled out the skirt, a mismatch of floaty material haphazardly sewn together to look like it was made out of leaves, or petals.

The fabric drifted soft and smooth across his fingertips. It felt like running his hands through Mike’s curls, like touching the softness of his thighs. It reminded him of all the parts of him that were most gentle, most vulnerable.

“Put this on,” Will said, and the words surprised even himself.

“What?” Mike asked.

Will held out the piece for Mike to take, and he scrutinized it for a moment before he recognized it, twisting the fabric between his fingers.

“Oh,” he said, softly.

He stood up obediently and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down to the ground. He stepped out of them and pulled the skirt over his briefs.

He reached down, smoothing it over his legs, and then looked at Will expectantly.

“What does it look like?” he asked.

“Good,” Will said, nodding. “Uh. It’s good. You sort of look like Nancy,” he added, and Mike scoffed.

“I don’t think Nancy’s legs have ever been this hairy,” He said. “And I don’t think you could see her balls if you looked at the wrong angle.

“Doesn’t matter,” Will said, quietly. “It looks nice on you.”

Mike’s skirt fluttered as he knelt back down, rifling through the box again. He pulled out a short crimson cape that draped and gathered at the shoulder with a gold buckle. He tossed it at Will, who caught it in the air.

“What?” Will asked.

“I don’t get to dress you up, too?” Mike cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh. Yeah. Okay, okay, fine,” Will conceded. He started to pull the garment over his t-shirt, but Mike stopped him.

“Wait,” he said. “Take your shirt off, first.”

Will bit his lip, then obeyed. He dropped his t-shirt on the floor and pulled the fabric over his shoulders. It was a little small on him. It had been Lucas’, but it was old, from before his shoulders filled out fully. Still, it fit alright and the fabric draped softly over one side of his chest. Mike moved closer, reaching out to touch his chest.

His fingers trailed across the fabric, then down the curve of his stomach. Will’s breath hitched, but Mike pulled his hand away and went back into the box.

“With this?” Mike asked, holding up a piece of chain mail, a skirt. It was the lower half of a longer piece Lucas had spent upwards of forty hours carefully twisting and fastening to create. It went down to mid-thigh, twisting loops of intricate metal.

You’ll look like a fag in that.

But Mike was looking at him so expectantly, almost hopefully.

Will pulled off his shorts and slid it on. With nothing underneath, it fell loosely on the skin of his upper thighs and dipped against his waist.

Mike said nothing but ran his hands slowly up Will’s thighs, the homemade mail tinkling as he pushed it up. His eyes darkened, curling his fingers and tracing Will’s skin.

Will did the same, mirroring his motion. They were both sitting on their knees, facing each other. Mike’s gaze was fixed on his face, but Will was looking down at his thighs, the way his hands looked pushing between the delicate fabric and his milky skin.

Will pushed up further, to his thighs, and Mike swallowed back a whimper, his muscles tensing and quivering under his touch.

Will bent over and pressed a kiss to his knee.

He grabbed Mike’s wrist, and stood up, bringing them both to their feet. Will turned Mike’s desk chair around with a scrape of wood against the floor and pushed Mike back into it. Mike sat down, his hands on his spread thighs.

Will knelt in front of him, Mike’s knees on either side of his head.

The shape of Mike’s cock was visible through the thin fabric of the skirt, tented.

Will didn’t touch it. Not yet. He ran his fingers over Mike’s hips and thighs. As he tensed, Will traced the lines of his flexed muscle. The skin at the bend of his upper thigh just as it connected with his groin was soft and pale, untouched.

Will slid Mike’s briefs off but didn’t move the skirt. It fell back into place, the floaty fabric falling softly over his erection.

Will kissed the curve of his waist, and then down to his thighs. He kissed over the fabric, and then as soon as he was down far enough hiked it up slightly, and pressed his lips to his bare skin.

A small, wet spot stained the skirt where Mike’s cock pressed against the fabric. He whined and moaned.

“Please, Will,” he breathed.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me.”

“I am touching you,” Will pointed out, insolently, and Mike groaned in frustration. He bucked his hips upward as Will traced likes on his thighs. He pinched a bit of sensitive skin between his fingers, and Mike whined. Will slapped the spot, the red imprint of his fingers blooming and dying swiftly.

Will stood up, grabbing Mike by the shoulders and pulling him up. Mike stood, obediently. He looked at Will with big, curious eyes.

Will took off the mail and then sat down in the chair. Mike moved to get down on his knees, but Will stopped him, grabbing him by the waist. He pressed a soft kiss right below Mike’s belly button, and slowly turned him around. Mike faced away from him now, and he pulled Mike’s hips backward. Mike sat down on Will’s lap. The swell of Will’s cock pressed directly against Mike’s ass, slotted into the space between his thigh and his groin. Will let out a long, ragged breath at the pressure. His ass pressed against Will, the delicate fabric falling over Will’s waist and hiding the press of their bodies.

Will rocked his hips up against Mike, his solid weight against his thighs.

Will rolled up the bottom of Mike’s t-shirt, and Mike reached down and pulled it over his head. As soon as Mike’s skin was exposed to the air, and the breeze from the window, his delicate skin was covered in goosebumps. Will traced them with his fingertips, feeling the texture of Mike’s skin. He brushed over the ribbons of his scars and then found the hard bud of his nipples. As he brushed them, Mike gasped and whined.

“You want me to touch you??” He asked, and Mike shuddered out a breath as Will pinched his nipple, hardening instantly under his fingertips.

“Mhm,” Mike whined, pushing his ass back against Will’s lap.

“You want it? Tell me.”

“I want you to touch me, Will. Please.”

Mike curved his back so that he could rest with his head against Will’s neck, his hair falling down Will’s chest.

“Take them off,” Mike breathed, shivering as Will sucked a mark into his neck.

“Tell me what you want,” Will instructed.

He needed to hear it so badly that he wanted it.

“Take your underwear off,” Mike said, again, his voice with a pleading edge.

Will put his hands on the sides of Mike’s hips, against the band of elastic, and lifted him off just enough to reach down and slip them off between them, kicking them from around his ankles. He slipped the cape over his head, as well, and leaned forward, pressing his chest to Mike’s back.

Mike seated his hips back against Will’s thighs, and when he sat back, the coolness of the thin fabric fell against his thighs.

He could imagine how nice it would feel against his skin. He could imagine wearing the skirt, it’s lightness and movement. He imagined how it would feel, looking down at his thighs. Suddenly, the desire to wear it didn’t feel so foreign. He lifted the skirt, and there was nothing between them.

He pressed against Mike, rocking against him.

Everything escalated quickly from there. As soon as their bare skin touched, it was over. He pulled Mike back against his chest and used all the strength he could find to lower them both down to the floor. He didn’t get up to get a condom at first, he just let the weight of himself rest on Mike, the closeness of their skin. His hips pressed against Mike’s ass, prone. He rolled forward and went through the motions of fucking him with just the little friction he could build by pressing between his legs. The skirt had ridden up around Mike’s hips, falling around his stomach and fanning out over the floor.

Will eventually got up, preparing himself and then returning to Mike. The way he fucked him was a culmination of that building desire, but it was all over sort of quickly. Mike’s hips sat against the carpet, and as Will fucked into him Mike ground down against the carpet, pressing his cock into the plush weave.

Mike pressed his hips back against Will’s, and then downward, rotating and grinding against the hard floor. Mike picked up his speed, repeating his motion until he came, pressing his forehead into the carpet. His mouth fell open in a silent, choked moan. He stilled his hips and then bucked into the carpet one final, shuddering time

Mike pulled away from him, and Will pulled out. Mike turned around, pressing a love-drunk kiss to his lips, drawing away and laughing. He reached down, pulling the condom off and taking Will in his hand. Will came quickly against the direct pressure of his palm.

When he pulled away they were both sweaty and sticky. They stayed there for a while, though, kissing on the floor and tracing each other's skin.

When they finally got up, the sun was starting to set and the apartment was getting dark. Mike turned on a lamp, one of the only items in the whole room.

They both showered and though Will was tempted to ask Mike if he could join him, he waited patiently on Mike’s bed for his turn.

Don’t cross any lines that don’t need to be crossed.

Will kept unpacking while Mike was in the bathroom, sorting piles out on the floor.

When Mike returned, wrapped in a towel, he started folding the clothes in the piles.

“Don’t put anything away anywhere and not tell me,” he warned. “Or I’ll never find it.”

“This is Max’s,” Will pulled a tight, cropped T-shirt out of the box.

“Yeah. She lent me some stuff,” Mike said, taking the shirt out of Will’s hands.

“So she..?”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded.

“You talked to her about it?”

“It?” Mike raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, the– the,” Will couldn’t find the right words, everything he could say felt presumptuous.

“Yeah. It,” Mike said, with a little half-amused huff.

“But she gave you…because you talked to her?”

“I sort of wanted to talk to someone who had a little more experience with, you know, girl stuff.”

“Max? Girl stuff?” Will raised an eyebrow.

“But that's sort of why she's perfect. She gets both sides. She’s like, a girl, but she’s sort of. I don’t know, a tomboy?”

“I guess.”

“Why is there a word for that? Like, a girl that is sort of like a guy. But there’s not a guy word for that that isn’t, like…horrible.”

“Like, faggot?”

“Yeah. Why isn’t there a tomboy for boys?”

“I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t seem fair.”

“But you talked to her?”

“She’s my best friend. Will, I’m going to tell her things,” Mike said, indignance threatening his voice.

“She is?” Will asked.

“Yes. She is. Are you mad about that? Do you want to be my best friend? I didn't really think that's what this was anymore.”

Will didn’t have anything to say to that. He tossed a sweater into a pile.

“Why did you tell her?” Will asked, “I mean, what did she say?”

“Why did I tell her? Because, I don’t know, I wanted to. And I guess. She, I mean, El used to talk about how Max, like, she taught her to be a girl. Like, what that means and everything. Because El, when she first got out of the lab, and stuff, she was just learning how to be a person. It was later, then she kind of learned how to be a girl.”

“But El is a girl,” Will said, and Mike’s face fell.

“I know. Obviously.”

“You told Max, but you didn't call me?” Will asked, the final revealing question.

“Will, you sort of acted like,” Mike sighed. “like I’d been cursed. She was kind of excited. Max was cool with it.”

“Did you tell her about us?” Will asked.

Mike looked down at his hands, guiltily.

“Yes,” He admitted. “Yeah, I did. I probably shouldn’t have, I know, but I– I mean, I had to tell her what happened, you know, with my parents.”

“I–” Will swallowed back his anger, nodding. “I get it.”

“Will, I don’t think you’re going to understand. Because I don’t think you feel the way I do.”

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t think I can explain it yet,” Mike said. “Sorry, I know that’s a stupid answer but–it’s all just at the beginning, for me.”

“Do you think you’re a–”

“A transexual?” Mike filled in.

“Yeah,” Will nodded, glad he didn’t have to say the word.

Mike took a long breath. “I think that’s more likely than me not being one, I guess. But I don’t–that’s not just something I’m going to decide. I feel like if I push it, I’m never going to really find out. Does that make sense?”

Will nodded, though he wasn’t sure he did.

“If I was, would that be a problem for you? For, like, whatever this is?”

“Do you want me to be honest?” Will asked.

Mike nodded. “Of course I do.”

“Probably.” Will shrugged. “ I don't know, I'm not attracted to women.”

“I'm never going to be a woman,” Mike said, quickly, with a pinched smile.

“You might,” Will shrugged. “I mean, you could.”

Mike looked up, considering him with a sincere sort of puzzlement.

“How can you say that, just like that,” he asked, “and have said all the things you said to me before. I– I mean, look at me. I get why you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” Will said, firmly. “I just freaked out, Mike. I’m just freaking out all the time. I was wrong about what I said,” Will said, firmly. He had developed enough perspective to know that. “It wasn't what I felt. I mean, it was what I felt, but not what I believe.Or, what I want to believe. I don’t want to say stuff like that. I don’t want to think it. It just, it happens. I’m working on it.”

“I trust that you’re working on it,” Mike said, slowly. “I–can I help?”

“You do,” Will said. “You do help.”

Mike left the conversation there. He got off the floor and offered Will a hand, pulling him up.

“Your turn. There’s toothpaste in the drawer. You can use my shampoo,” He said.

When Will came out, damp and smelling like cedar, Mike was at the stove making popcorn.

Mike wore the T-shirt Max had given him with plaid pajama pants, a sliver of his stomach visible where the tight T-shirt rode up as he moved.

“It’s nice, because I can hear when it’s done,” Mike commented, and Will laughed.

“As opposed to just smelling when it’s burnt.”

“Exactly,” Mike laughed, pouring out the pot into a plastic bowl.

They sat in Mike’s bed, with the TV on the floor. Mike had to run and ask the ladies downstairs for an extension cord.

They curled up against each other and fell asleep before the sun had even fully slipped below the skyline. Mike’s arms wrapped around his waist, their skin bathed in colors of light.

The next morning stretched long and lovely. They kept waking up, first in the wee hours of the morning and then again as the sun stretched across the sky. They would readjust, holding each other and kissing lazily until they fell back to sleep.

When they woke up for the final time, Mike blinked big brown eyes and then rolled onto his back.

“Good morning,” He said, his voice low and scratchy.

“Morning,” Will said, burying a yawn in his arm and then kissing up his shoulder.

Mike let down his hair. It fell long and curled around his shoulders, his curls stretched and reshaped from where they had been twisted up into the knot of his clip all night.

They lay on Mike’s single bed, bodies apart but their limbs intertwined. A breeze came through the window, the smell of gasoline and garbage from the street faint under sweet, summer air as the city woke up.

Mike scratched his fingers through Will’s hair, and Will groaned, sleepy and content. He rolled over, pressing his face into the fabric of Mike’s T-shirt.

“Do you have a boyfriend in Chicago?” Mike asked, suddenly.

Will blinked and propped himself up on the pillows, taken aback.

“What?”

“You–I mean. You clearly have more experience than I do. You said you go there a lot. I was just wondering.”

Will shook his head, swallowing back a smile.

“No. No boyfriend.”

“Good,” Mike said, quickly.

“Good?” Will snorted.

“Well–” Mike blushed, a shy smile. “I said I had a crush on you. I wasn’t lying.”

Will hummed, his heart beating against his chest.

“Have you been thinking about that all night?’ he asked.

“No. Not really. I mean, it just occurred to me yesterday.”

“You thought I had a boyfriend that I was cheating on with you?”

“Maybe. I mean, doesn't sound like you. But, you know. You could have an open relationship.”

Will laughed, and Mike looked at him, affronted. “Me?”

“What, you’re gay but you draw the line at open relationships? That’s immoral to you, or something?”

“No, no, not…I don’t know, I fall too hard for open relationships, I think.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?’

“Yeah.”

“You've been in love?”

Will bit his lip, shaking his head. “Not like that. Not in love.”

“Do you want to be?”

“I don't know. It scares me, I guess.’

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

Will laughed, sardonically. He was particularly gifted at visualizing the absolute worst things that could happen.

“Do you genuinely want me to answer that?’

“Maybe not,” Mike grimaced, thinking better of it.

It was a good call. Will had years worth of ammunition.

Will didn't know what to say to that, so he watched the curtains flutter.

“So,” Mike sat up, stripping off his shirt and getting out of bed. The creases from the bedsheets blended in with the scars on his chest “What're we doing today?”

Will shrugged. “I hadn't really even thought of it.”

“What would you be doing if you were in Chicago this weekend?” Mike took his glasses from the bedside table, putting them on.

“I don't know. Going to a bar, and having sex with some guy.”

“That could be arranged,” Mike said, slyly.

“Maybe,” Will felt heat rise in his cheeks.

“What else?” Mike asked.

“I don’t know. Going to a museum, if I had cash to burn.”

“We could do that, too,” Mike offered. “The city has an art museum.”

“Do you actually want to?” Will perked up. “Is it nice?”

“Haven't been yet,” Mike admitted. “I’m not, like, gonna go on my own.”

“Oh!” Will kicked himself, feeling stupid. “I mean, I guess, yeah. You probably wouldn’t. Well then, we shouldn't go,” he shook his head. “If it won't be fun for you, we shouldn’t go.”

“Anything with you will be fun for me, relax,” Mike said, leaning down and pressing a kiss into his shoulder.

They got out of bed. Will made eggs, and Mike went for a run. Will tried not to worry about him while he was gone. Mike would be going for a run whether Will was there to worry about him or not, he tried to remind himself of that.

He tried, too, not to worry that Mike wouldn’t enjoy himself at the museum. They drove over after Mike had gotten home and showered.

Mike paid, and Will felt guilty and panicked that he would have wasted his money. But Mike did seem to have fun at the museum. He brought his cane because he, as he put it, didn’t have big money to pay if he broke some stone dildo, or something.

Will talked to him about the art. He felt like he was being a little boring, but Mike asked him questions whenever he stopped talking. He was surprised by how much he knew, how much he could comment on or recite. He always thought of himself as undereducated about things, but he didn’t exhaust the information he knew even as they made their way around the museum. Mike stopped in front of a big, vibrant painting and stared at it for so long that Will sat down on the bench behind him.

After the Saturday afternoon crowd picked up, and the galleries got too busy for them to navigate together comfortably, they left and went out to the museum lawn.

They sat together on a bench at the bottom, just on the edge of the grass and facing up towards the looming stone box of the museum. Mike leaned back, pulling one knee up to his chest. The water sat still but rippled in the breeze.

The closest walkers were forty or so feet away, so Will slipped his hand between them and took Mike’sll slipped his hand between them and took Mike’s.

“You know, we're really good together,” Mike said, quietly.

“Yeah,” Will nodded. “We are.”

Mike was silent for a moment, but his frown betrayed him.

“What? What are you–?” Will asked.

Mike sighed.

“Nothing. I mean, nothing I want to be thinking about. Not when I’m here, with you.”

“Tell me,” Will implored, his stomach tightening.

“I don’t want to upset you. We’re having a nice day.”

“I don’t want you to be upset. Tell me.”

Mike shifted. For a moment, Will thought he was going to pull his hand away, but instead, he readjusted their grip and tightened his hold.

“Look, I–when you said all that, that night, it really upset me. Because up until that point, I mean. I was having a really good time. That weekend, it was really important to me.”

“It was important to me, too.”

“Why did it have to happen like that? I mean, why did–” Mike shook his head. “Just why did you say that? That’s just what I can’t stop thinking. Why?”

Will bit his lip, looking up at the cloudless sky.

“I felt guilty,” He admitted. “Like I had done something to make you this way. It happened so fast.”

“It did,” Mike nodded.

“I guess I couldn't handle that, on top of how I felt about myself.”

“How do you feel about yourself?”

“Like a monster.”

“Oh, Will,” Mike breathed.

“I wish I could control it. I wish I didn’t think like I do.”

“Will, you don't feel like– like it's your fault that I'm feeling this way, do you?”

Will pursed his lips, looking down at his hands.

“Yeah,” he admitted, nodding.

“Well. Honestly, I think that's really self-centered,” Mike said, and Will looked up at him in surprise.

“What?”

“It’s not about you. I want you. I want this. Why do you care so much that it's new for me? The way you think, Will, it’s like poison. What my body is telling me, it’s so strong, and you’ve still managed to make me doubt it.”

The lump in Will’s throat doubled in size. He had influenced Mike. He had corrupted him. But not in the same way he had been agonizing over for so long. No, it hadn’t been his queerness that had rubbed off on Mike. It had been his hate.

“I’m sorry,” Will said.

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t be sorry, just, say you understand how I feel. Because I’m all mixed up right now. It's a lot to let go of, you know. I mean, it’s even harder, because of how I know things are always going to be more difficult for me. I can see better now than I did last year. Some days, at least. But I’m blind. And if I'm gay, that's more power I give up.”

“But I also I think I realized that the way I felt, wasn’t something I could just put back on the shelf and never feel again. If I tried to hide it and I married someone who didn’t understand, would I spend my life hiding from her? Or, I don’t know. Secretly crossdressing? I pictured myself, like, waiting until my family left so I could feel good for a moment, in secret. That idea made me sad. That life made me sad.”

Will swallowed, nodding.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I get that.” Every version of his future that he could imagine made him sad.

“I’ve always sort of thought I would never find love. Being gay, I knew it was me, but it always felt like an itch to scratch. Something to get rid of, you know?”

“Will, I… I think we both need some time.”

The words shattered him, but he nodded. Mike’s hand was still in his.

“Okay,” Will said.

“I thought maybe this would work out, now, the way it is,” Mike explained. “But I don’t think that’s true. And that’s hard because I think I love you.”

Will stared at the water, watching the shapes change on the surface.

“But if I’m going to figure out how I feel,” Mike continued. “I can’t have you in my ear, in my heart, doubting. I can’t. Because what you think, means a lot to me. And if we’re in a relationship–if you love me.”

“I do,” Will said, quickly.

“If you love me,” Mike continued, holding himself stiff and regretful. “and something I do, some part of this. Like, if I was a girl, for example, would mean that you might not love me anymore, I’m going to pull back. I won’t do it if I’ll lose you. So I can’t have you to begin with. Do you see what I mean?”

Will nodded.

“And that’s–that’s really upsetting. Because I really like you. I like being with you.”

Will didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to make this better. Maybe there was no making this better.

They sat there for a long time, in silence.

“Will, say something, please.”

“What if we meet up next year,” Will said, suddenly. It was the only thing he could think of, but suddenly as he said it it felt possible. “Next summer. And we see where we are?” Will asked. “I promise, Mike, I’m going to try.”

“You deserve to be happy, Will,” Mike said, quietly.

“So do you,” Will nodded.

“I’m willing to try,” Mike said.

“So am I.”

They went back to Mike’s apartment, where the empty walls waited for them. But as Will looked around, he no longer thought of them as sad. He thought of the possibility, and tried to predict what the place might look like next summer.

What made Will saddest of all was that hidden in his heartbreak was a small patch of relief.

He could have time. He could have time to feel better, and he wouldn’t lose his chance.

He had a chance to begin with.

Mike made good on his promise, and decided that they would go out tonight. They would find some bar where they could disappear for a few hours, like Will always liked to in Chicago. But this time, he knew where he would be at the end of the night, and who he would be with.

Mike had made him promise that they would still enjoy the weekend.

It didn’t take long for Will to get ready. He had only brought one set of going-out clothes, so he didn’t have much choice. His black button-up and jeans were familiar and comforting.

Mike was still inside, getting ready. Mike had offered him a beer, and he sipped it slowly.
Will sat out on the balcony, watching the sunset over the city from a lawn chair.

He could hear Mike walking around inside, and Will imagined Mike the way he might look like when he came through the screen door. More than that, he imagined what he might look like next summer.

He could imagine his hair longer than it even was now, long stretched curls. He imagined him pink and sunburned, a field of freckles across his skin.

Will imagined this time next year, when he might finally be proud to call Mike his own.

Mike slid the screen door open, and Will turned around to face him.

“You ready?” Mike asked.

“I am,” Will said.