closer to happiness than i've ever been

hands

a/n: this is my first ever (serious) fanfic. i legit just wrote this in my notes app and my sister read it and told me to post it. so... yeah tell me what y'all think and if u want me to post the rest.
...

august 11, 1989

will's pov

(both are aged up btw, current mike would never)

i sit on my dark blue bed sheets, hearing the late summer rain tap tap tap on my bedroom window. mike sits at the edge of my bed, methodically explaining why he ended things with el. the break up happened, give or take, a week ago. something about how she's not ready for a relationship. i guess i agree. he watches me as i anxiously pick the skin off my cuticles. i feel so selfish for feeling hopeful, but he doesn't know that. even if i told him he wouldn't get it, even if he could get it, he'd likely never speak to me again

i glance at his hands, wishing i could hold them without him pulling away. he always pulls away when i beckon for his affection. i begin to tune him out, watching his hands, gesturing wildly, rubbing his thighs anxiously, running through his hair. my mind trails to a different place. i begin to think about the way his hands would feel on my waist while he kisses me and the way mine would rest on either side of his pretty face. i think about how his soft lips would feel on mine and the way he would look at me like i was the only boy in the world.

"...right will?" he knows i haven't been listening.

"um- yeah" i reply.

"do you even know what i said?" what was i supposed to say to that? no i was thinking about making out with you because im gay and in love with you. he raises his eyebrows at me. "are you okay?" he asks.

wow, i think, haven't heard that phrase from him in a while.

"um- yeah" i stutter out. i couldn't have said it in a less convincing manner.

"you don't seem fine" he says in his usual annoyed tone, like he was frustrated his failed romance with my sister was not the most important thing to me. "you've been spacing off a lot."

i only sigh. i wish he could read my mind, but that would be a vice on its own.

"is there something you aren't telling me?" he gets this stupid grin on his face. it's adorable and i hate it more than just about anything.

"it's nothing, really!" i reciprocate the expression as best as i can. he quirks an eyebrow at me.

"you were thinking about a girl, weren't you?" i have fallen deeply in love with an imbecile. how does he still not see it?

i simply laugh, it's a fake laugh. it feels like the fake sweet taste of a diet soda. "no- what- why do you-"

"oh, c'mon who is she?" he says. it's then that i realize this conversation could go one of two ways. i could lie. tell him there is a girl and she's all i ever wanted. she's beautiful and kind and gives me butterflies when she passes by me in the crowded hallway. but i'm tired of hiding. i want to tell him how i really feel, that it's not a girl, it's a boy and he just doesn't get it. he knows all the right buttons to push to shatter me. he's mean and he's pretty and he's my best friend. so i tell the truth, in a way.

"i can't tell you" i say. he gives me that look that i hate. that stupid look where he says everything and nothing all at once.

"why?" he asks like a damn three year old.

"i- i just... i can't" i sigh.

"that's a dumb reason" he scoffs. sometimes i wonder if he even hears himself.

"it's just- you wouldn't get it" i say, looking right through him.

"what is there not to get" he says getting progressively louder.