Vulnerable Observations

Will was tired. He was tired of so many things it was ridiculous. He was tired of omnipotent beings. He was tired of saving the world. He was tired of fighting things in order to save the world. He was tired of still having teenage feelings in the middle of literal hell. He was tired of noticing every small smile, every stray hair.

He was tired of Mike Wheeler.

Sure, he had better reasons why he was tired of him. He'd ignored him for months, not even trying to call. All the while sending letter after letter to El, spending hours talking to her about anything and everything. He had been so damn awkward at the airport, only giving Will an uncomfortable back pat when he tried to go in for a hug. He was tired of him. And now he had to be tired of him in a van. Right next to him.

Will sighed, trying to listen to The Montclairs playing softly on the radio. It was nighttime. Sundown was beautiful and serene–making Will's fingers itch for a pen, pencil, anything. Anything to capture this moment. Anything to capture the soft glow of the sun on Mike's face, accentuating his long eyelashes and the cascade of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He looked so at peace after such a stressful day, all slow breaths and radiating calm.

"Dreaming's out of season," The song crooned on, lulling Will into delicate silence.

He was about to fall asleep when he heard the rustling of fabric to his right. He froze. Mike was awake. Did he see him look at him? Was he creeped out? Was he even asleep in the first place?

"Will?" He huffed out, his voice gruff and unused with sleep and the previous silence of the van.

"Yeah?" Will tensed even more. This was the first time Mike had made an effort to talk to him today.

"Are you cold? You're shivering really badly."

Huh. Will hadn't even noticed.

"Oh. Don't sweat it, I have a sweater. It's somewhere around here..." Will trailed off, shoving things out of the way to get to the sweatshirt he shoved in here that time Argyle took him and Jane to school. What a horrendous day. It was raining and there was wind because of course there was. The rain had blown into his face and his hair making him look even worse by the time he got to school—

"It's okay if you can't find it, it was never a problem before." Mike was next to him now (when did that happen?), the space between them almost completely eliminated. He was so warm. Will felt warmer already with only the gentle touch of his thigh against his. Not that he noticed. Or cared. It was a simple observation, is all.

Wait, what did he mean "before"?

"What do you mean?" Will voiced his confusion–and immediately regretted it when Mike's breath staggered and he turned away from him.

"Never mind," Will tried to backtrack, "I'm not making a whole lot of sense right now, I probably misheard you and-"

"No, no you didn't." Mike sighed, "I wasn't making any sense. The words are in my head but I just can't speak them right."

Will shifted at that, silently forcing Mike to make eye contact with him.

"Try again, nobody's going to stop you."

Mike stilled a bit before slowly curling into himself. Now, Mike was a pretty tall guy. It's been a couple years since Mike has been small. But seeing him now, legs against his chest and curls brushing his knees, he looks very small. No, not small. Vulnerable.

Will had to bite back a bit of a smile. There was progress. He's actually talking to him now. Not those small little things. Meaningless statements that could potentially lead to something more, but neither of them were brave enough to keep talking. No, this is a conversation. And from the looks of it, it'll be an important one.

"I just," Mike sighed. "I know you, Will. But it feels like we're strangers. It doesn't make sense."

Will opened his mouth to say something before Mike-predictably- cut him off.

"I know it's my own fault too. But it's just so difficult. The words are there I just can't say them. And it makes it even worse that I know too much. Like how you hate the cold, how you secretly like your bowl cut, how you secretly like the smell of that one red paint I bought you at Jo Ann's."

He looked like he was about to cry now, and that made things worse for Will, who was also about to cry. Mike's eyelashes had tears caught on them now, and watching them roll down his face in real time was a bit mesmerizing.

"And I missed you so much. And it sucks because even though I'm right next to you, I still do. And the reason why is even worse. I'm so, so, so sorry Will. You'd never forgive me if you knew. I'm sorry, I swear-"

"From what I hear there's nothing to be sorry about." Will cut off Mike's babbling before he dug a deep hole for him to suffocate himself in. "But, again, nobody's going to stop you from saying what you want to say except you. And whatever it is, I promise I won't be mad. And if I am, I'll forgive you. Always, Mike."

Mike looked up at him, his tears now running freely. Mike opened his mouth once, twice, before he stuttered out what he needed to say. What he always wanted to.

"I love you Will. More than a friend."