Mike’s visit is starting to loom over Will like an oppressive darkness. He never once thought he would live in a reality where he would dread a visit from Michael Wheeler, but now, things have changed. He has a boyfriend. He has a brother that accepts him for who he is. He’s gone an entire month without fawning or pining over his best friend—something he hasn’t done in literally years—and he’s happy that way.
The painting he spent countless hours on still sits in the corner on its easel, and whether or not to give it as a gift like he intended is still up in the air. Each hour that passes adds to the feeling of dread that sits heavy in his stomach, and that just increases the layer of guilt he’s built up on top of it, because at the heart of it all, Mike is his friend, and he should be excited.
Johnathan’s been spending more and more time with Argyle getting high because Nancy backed out at the last minute. Will can’t imagine what that must be like, so he doesn’t blame him for being a bit more distant. He’s still affectionate when he’s here though. Always a pat on the back or a hand on the shoulder available for both him and Boris. It’s nice. It’s comforting.
El is so happy she may as well be in her own universe. She’s chattier than usual, which is beautiful. She seems less daunted by school and there’s a perpetual skip to her step. Will wishes she could always be this happy, hates that Lenora has made her feel so sad.
Mike makes her happy. Mike made him happy once too. But now, he just doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything.
Boris picks that moment to knock his knuckles on the side of his head, snapping him out of where he’s been zoning out at his easel from his bed for who knows how long.
“Too many thoughts in your head, William,” he chides.
Will sighs.
“Yeah…”
Boris walks around in front of him, blocking his view, and raises an eyebrow. It’s his way of asking what’s on his mind without actually asking what’s on his mind.
“I just…” Will starts “Do you think…I dunno…Maybe?” And then he throws his hands up.
“Makes sense!” Boris teases.
That makes Will smile.
“Shut up, Boris.”
His boyfriend holds a hand out for him to grab and Will takes it, still marveling at the difference between them after all this time. Where Will’s hands are short with wide palms, Boris’s are all elegant length. Like a pianist.
“Try again, William,” he urges.
Will chews on his lower lip for a moment.
“Mike is gonna be here tomorrow, and I’m nervous, I guess? I know I shouldn’t be, but I am. It’s like, I should be excited because he’s my best friend, but also, there’s a part of me that just…doesn’t want to see him. At all. And…I think I’d feel better if you came with me…to the airport.”
Boris lets out a sound of understanding.
“Can you…do that for me?” Will asks.
When he looks up from their entwined fingers, Boris’s face is soft, and when he leans down to place a kiss on his forehead, Will all but melts at the comfort of it.
“Of course,” he murmurs.
Sitting at the airport is torture. Seconds feel like hours. Minutes feel like years. Will wants to go home. He wants to go back in time. He wants to go back to the safety of Boris’s cloth adorned room and be held until he feels safe again. He wants to hold Boris’s hand, but they’re in public.
