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Mike’s a lot of things, and one of them is classy. That’s his goal in life, at least. Will called him that once before, and so Mike is never going to forget it.
Sue him, he likes a little everyday chivalry. Holding doors open, pulling out chairs, opening pesky lids, Mike is a Jack of all trades in the suit. He, on theme, adopts the habit of buying Will flowers. He doesn’t do it mindlessly, either. Will has also told him that he likes flowers, which Mike found adorable, and so he’s happily obliged his boyfriend since.
Will likes all kinds of flowers. And Will being Will is, of course, never upset with any flowers unless the bouquet is clearly old and smells sour, but otherwise, he’s always giving Mike a kiss and thanking him for them. Mike ends up grinning like an idiot the whole rest of the day afterwards. It’s undeniable: the simple things in life have become their favorite.
Since then, their relationship has blossomed into this funny little thing where they became the very thing they swore they would never be—cheesy.
But whatever. Who cares. It’s been seven years, now. They deserve to have fun.
February rolls around in New York, and it’s freezing. Mike still finds a way to find fresh flowers, and he eyes the perfect bunch.
The clerk smiles at him, coming out from the door and putting her gloves on. “That one catch your eye?”
Mike looks up, a little startled out of his imaginations of what Will would look like if he gives this one to him. “Yes, ma’am,” he says. “This one’s perfect.”
The clerk, Susan, starts getting the roses ready right away. This is Mike’s favorite flower shop, namely because it isn’t run by someone who clearly only needs the extra money. Well, that’s the secondary reason.
She pulls out scissors and a few rolls of ribbon. “Do I even need to ask?”
Mike grins and shakes his head. “No, ma’am.”
She cuts a tail in the end of the golden yellow ribbon and starts fastening the flowers. “Just making sure he didn’t dump you.”
Mike’s eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
Susan laughs and waves her hand. “I’m jokin’.”
This is the primary. She’s one of the only people who knows about them in this city and makes him feel nothing but safe with the knowledge. Mike will never forget that feeling of blissful neutrality. There was no disgust, no judgment, just a simple question. She asked what his boyfriend’s favorite color was. He never knew it could feel so freeing to have someone just… let them be. Mike has been a loyal customer since.
“I doubt that that sweet man is ever gonna afford to lose you.”
Mike’s chest squeezes tight at the sudden remark. Susan is normally a little lighthearted, but this is something else. It is the fourteenth. Maybe she’s just fluffing him up.
His cheeks grow warm, and not from the cold. “Thanks, Mrs. King.”
“Happy Valentine’s, young man.” She hands him the freshly wrapped bouquet, tied with a yellow ribbon, topped with a smile. “Go get ‘em.”
Mike nods and holds it like it’s the key to a special mission to win his boyfriend’s heart. “See you later. And happy Valentine’s to you, too.” He doesn’t even realize when he’s walking away until he’s shouting, a little too eager to get home. “Say hi to Mr. King for me!”
She waves goodbye, and Mike leaves with that same fuzzy feeling in his chest, flowers in hand.
Mike doesn’t have a lot of plans for tonight. He hopes to give Will his present, alongside a little something he hid in his desk, and maybe watch movies all night, snuggled under their favorite big blanket. That’s their dream life, honestly.
Mike has several minutes, lost in another daydream of Will’s smiling face until he’s finally home. He locks the door behind him, takes off his hat and coat, and sighs in the warm air, the comforting smell of home mixed with something reminiscent of the holidays.
“Will?” Mike calls, a little suspicious as he hears nothing. “I’m home.”
He enters the front hall of their apartment, curious as the lights are out, too. “Will?”
Oh. No, there is light. Just not the ceiling light. There are candles on the coffee table, casting a gentle glow over everything in the living room. Mike’s eyes soften as he lays eyes on his boyfriend, at last, under that blanket he was just thinking about. Will perks up and straightens himself out. “Hi, Mike.”
It’s just a greeting, but it melts Mike like snow. “Hey, Will.”
Will scoots over, clearly inviting him on the couch. Mike doesn’t hesitate. His knees bend up as he slides in beside Will, pulling up the blanket over himself, bouquet in hand in the other. Will’s hands remain in his lap, waiting for Mike to speak.
Mike clears his throat playfully. “So, uh, I thought… the house could use some color.”
Will tilts his head, playing dumb. “Mhm.”
“And so… I got these. For the house.” Truth be told, Mike completely forgot to make it a secret and hold it behind his back like he usually does.
Will leans against the couch, his arms crossed, giving him that look of love. “For the house.”
“For the house.”
Will starts to grin. “Well, I’ll tell the house that they’re very lucky.”
Mike scoots a little closer. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. To have very thoughtful flowers.”
It’s funny how all their lives, after age twelve, everything became serious. Life or death. Win or lose. This, though? This feels like home. Like the weight being lifted off their shoulders, the curse equally lifted like a morning fog. They can be themselves without a care in the world.
Mike fell for that boy who held his hand in the fire, and he’s determined to keep that hand in his, in green pastures.
Will looks at him like he’s just happy to see him, like he truly wouldn’t mind if the flowers were for the place. Their hands meet, and Will leans in for a kiss that Mike doesn’t even hesitate to return. Will’s smile parts their lips slightly, and then he’s curling his fingers around Mike’s.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Mike whispers, hiding the words away from everything but Will’s ears.
Will’s hand strokes through his hair, making Mike sigh. “Happy Valentine’s, Mike.”
Will lays down the flowers in their lap. Mike can feel Will’s excitement through his touch, and he knows at once that Will has something to show him later.
Between stolen breaths, Mike asks, “you bought candles?” thinking it’s the cutest thing in the world.
The kiss breaks gently, and Will’s hands slide down Mike’s arms as he chuckles, “you bought candles, Mike. Remember?”
“No…” Mike trails off, looking at Will’s lips. They look a little different under just candlelight.
Will gently tilts up his chin, catching his distraction at once. That same smile is still written all over his face, and Mike wants to kiss him.
“The power went out, and you conveniently forgot where we put all our batteries,” he retells, and Mike is just nodding like a fool, “and then when you did remember, we were all out…”
“Mhm.”
“…and our flashlights were dead…”
“Mm.”
“…and so you said we need candles, and you went after work the next day?”
Mike’s gaze remains locked on Will’s, but he’s still not any more focused when Will is talking like this, hushed, a little teasing. Mike’s voice drops all the same. “Will?”
Will stops, his throat bobbing softly. “Yeah?”
“I don’t give a shit about candles, right now.”
“You bought them, not me.”
Will can’t say another word when Mike blindly puts the flowers on the table, narrowly missing the said candles and making the night a little too unforgettable with a call to the fire department. He doesn’t care. Not when he’s with Will on the most romantic night of the year. Will lets out a sound, something straight from heaven, and Mike pulls him down by his waist. Their legs intertwine. It’s so cozy.
“They all smell good, except for one.”
Mike giggles. “Yeah? Which one?”
It’s getting to them, now. This, this is the part of being home that they love most, no matter what day it is.
Will kisses him again between breaths. “I thought you said you don’t care about the candles.”
“I don’t,” Mike’s breath hitches as Will pushes his palm into his thigh. “But I do care if you don’t like it.”
Will’s hands come around his back, and they’re all arms and legs until they finally find that perfect little groove in the couch.
“The vanilla cupcake.” Mike’s favorite.
“Oh, fuck off.”
Will laughs.
After only a few tender minutes of enjoying the privilege of the holiday, it’s cozy inside. Will is wearing one of Mike’s sweaters, and tonight he nabbed Mike’s favorite Star Wars silhouetted one. It’s the softest piece of clothing either of them own. Mike is usually yanking it off Will right now, demanding it back as he purposefully tickles Will’s sides to feel him laugh, but Mike is giving him grace. It’s Valentine’s Day.
An arbitrary rule, he’s aware of the stupidity, but he doesn’t care.
Will grins, knowing what he’s getting away with. “I have something for you, too,” he whispers when the quiet settles over them.
Mike is laying his head on Will’s chest, completely content with his gift here, but he perks up at the sound. “Mm?”
Will strokes his hair, and Mike purrs like a goddamn cat wrapped around his finger.
He still remembers the first time Dustin and Lucas caught them cuddling. It was so awkward. They were in their college dorm, practically talking in each other’s ears as the door suddenly slammed open. Mike has never flung a pillow across a room so far, and despite the untimely reveal, they were all laughing by the end of it.
Mike has rarely heard Will laugh so hard, since. He was mesmerized by it. The memory stirs happily in his mind as he lifts his head, looking up at Will.
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”
Will makes this face, and Mike wants to kiss that cute furrow in his brows he always does.
“Come on, Mike.”
“What?” he giggles.
“Stop being righteous.” Will pushes his chest. Mike’s heart flutters. “Stay here.”
“Oh—okay.” And then Mike’s giddy smile shifts as Will leaves him, curiosity blooming as he follows Will with his eyes.
Mike sits up and he waits under the blanket, shaking his legs anxiously, and Will has only been gone all of seven seconds. Maybe Mike needs a new hobby. He throws his thoughts out again when Will returns with his hands behind his back, making him look cuter than he already is.
“Close your eyes.” Of course.
Mike listens, his eyes closing on instinct. He’s been stubborn about not closing his eyes for one of Will’s special reveals, before, and they usually ended up with kissing until Mike complies. Mike sometimes wishes he’d push his luck, but funny thing is…
Will’s lips are pressing into his, soft, smiling excitedly.
Yeah. He gets what he wants, either way. Mike is the most spoiled man on earth. His heart blooms like parched flowers, his fingers spread open like the petals, too, as Will wraps his hands around the object. It’s cold. Mike taps his nail on it. It’s glass.
“Hey,” Will scolds.
Mike grins himself stupid, eyes still closed. “What?”
Life’s always a game with Will. Not in a way that merely tries things for fun, but plays into each other’s sensibilities that they’ve known for years. That kind of game. It took Mike years to learn what to truly play. He’s always been cast as a friend, as a fighter before Will, being the leader Will called him to be. He assumed that’s where Will wanted him to be, and so he stuck with it.
But somewhere down the line, somewhere dark and cold, the truth started to unravel. After all the supernatural, after all the pain, there was just a game they weren’t even playing on the right field.
Will stood before him, shaking, tears rushing down his cheeks. Mike screwed everything up. Will said something, said he did, too, but none of it mattered to Mike.
Mike was never going to get him or himself wrong ever again when he pulled Will in.
Mike’s eyes flutter open, suddenly emotional, and Will’s eyes soften in that sweet way that makes him melt. “Hey,” he says again, much more hushed.
Mike blinks away tears, embarrassed. “Shit, sorry.”
“No, no,” Will urges, immediately coming down next to Mike. He takes the glass from his hands, putting it to the side. “Don’t be sorry.”
Mike shakes his head, the tears not stopping. Will cups his cheek. “Mike.”
He swallows hard, looking up at Will. Will is quiet until he reads him gently, and he wraps his arms around his shoulders. “Let it out.”
Mike does, getting some snot and tears out, and, Jesus, he’s making a mess. But Will doesn’t care. He never backs away when Mike is emotional. Will’s hand is cradled behind his head, and Mike sinks into his shoulder, relaxing at the familiar touch.
“You’re so precious, Mike, you know that?”
Mike makes an indecipherable sound.
Will tries not to laugh. “Mike…”
They stay there for as long as Mike needs, Will never leaving his embrace. Sometimes Mike wonders why he deserves this, why Will could ever want a fool like him.
“Do you think I like you because you’re perfect?”
It was hard to see anything in the Upside Down, but when Will held him, there was light. They needed to keep moving. What was he doing? “Yes?” he whispered, not even convincing himself.
Will squeezed his arms. “I don’t want perfect. I don’t want strong all the time. I want… I want you.”
And in that moment, Mike was being torn at the seams, stripped of all he knew. His heart could never fit quite right inside his own chest. He assumed he was unfixable for never having loved enough. Never having loved her enough.
Then, finally, he caught it, a look in Will’s eyes that pleaded with a little more than encouragement. “Can you be that for me? Right now?” he asked with a voice so soft, it was almost hard to hear it.
He was just looking in the wrong direction, this whole damn time.
Maybe he couldn’t fix it all in one go, couldn’t take back all the bad moves, but when he saw Will leading him to the light, he would follow. The thunder shook, lightning droning as rhythmically as their hearts, and Mike was going to pick up all the pieces. He swore it. He started with maybe what could have been considered another bad choice, but he couldn’t wait another second. He took Will’s hand before he could keep walking and turned him around.
“Will.”
His eyes went wide, surprised that they were stopping. Will truly had laid down the hope that he had a real chance. He didn’t expect anything out of him. Didn’t expect him to realize what it all meant.
“What?”
“Come here.” He double took his own words, swallowed hard, “—just wait a second, okay?”
Mike replays that day in his head all the time.
“I love you,” he breathes into Will’s sweater, clinging desperately to his back like he'll disappear if he lets go.
“I love you, too—“
“No, I… I really need you to know, Will.”
Will quiets, knowing that he’s not finished.
“I love coming home to you. I love making you smile. Just… seeing you smile. I love everything about you.”
Will kisses the top of his head, and Mike is a puddle of tears.
“Mike, are you okay?” Will asks, and he’s teasing, but he’s genuinely concerned, and Mike laughs. “You’re not about to tell me something bad, right? Did something happen today?”
Mike scrubs at his wet face, embarrassed. “No.”
Will does, too, a little softer, thumbing at his jaw, not embarrassed but just letting him be. “Okay. That’s good.”
“Can’t I just say I love you?”
Will stops, his lips pulling up into a sweet smile. “You can.”
“Then I’ll say it a million more times, if that’s okay.”
“But then you’ll never see my present.”
Mike buries his face into Will’s chest, groaning loudly. “You always say some shit like that when you know you’re gonna make me cry.”
Will caresses his neck, his back, smoothing down the curve between his shoulders that he’s gotten from being half a head taller than Will and still bending into him like this too much.
“I don’t know that.”
“Yes, you do.”
Mike is whining like a child into Will’s collar, and he knows he should stop being ridiculous, but Will has always liked his ridiculousness. Back then, Mike never really knew why.
“You don’t have to read them all right now,” Will whispers soothingly. “Just… it’s for whenever you think of me. Not just today.”
God, that’s so sweet. Mike lifts his head and nods. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself for what he knows is about to break him open. He hasn’t even seen the thing Will gave him, yet, and he’s crying.
Their hands brush tenderly as Will puts the object back into his hands. Now that Mike can look at it, he feels that damn lump forming.
Will’s managed to up his game every year. It’s so beautiful. It’s so unfair.
Mike’s eyes widen as he turns the glass in his hands. It’s a jar. A mason jar. Sealed tight, little slips of paper inside, each one folded in half.
He remembers cutting snowflakes out with Holly, sometimes with Will if Jonathan was able to drive him over in the cold during the holidays. He remembers the turn of the wrist, taking what starts as a teardrop into a heart. The thought of Will doing that again into their adulthood makes him weak.
Will’s brows furrow as he holds Mike close. “Open it,” he prompts softly, and Mike suddenly feels his throat go dry.
Will has always been the best gift-giver. He’s a lot of things, and creative is chief of them. That’s what made Mike fall for him, really.
“Fuck, okay,” Mike says, wiping another tear that falls.
Will kisses his cheek, his own eyes misty. “Take your time.”
Mike slowly undoes the lid, the soft clink and then the pop of the sealed air like there’s something important locked inside. There is, to be fair. Mike’s fingers tremble as he reaches in and pulls out one little, pink heart, and he starts to read. Sob, more accurately.
“Thank you for always taking out the trash—“
even when it’s cold out, the rest reads. When it makes me sick, you don’t even give me a chance to feel it.
Will gently tugs at Mike’s wrist, pulling him closer. “Mike. Oh, my god, come here.”
It’s over for him. He officially hates this holiday. Why does it always make him cry until it hurts?
Will rubs his back, still holding in laughter, that asshole. “Mike… please.”
“Please what?” he chokes in accusation, laughing, too, his chest tight.
“Stop being so cute. It’s just a jar of thank you letters.”
“It’s not just a jar of thank you letters!”
Will wheezes softly as he holds Mike tighter. “Okay, okay.”
“I get you… stupid flowers and you give me your heart on a platter? It’s not fair!”
“Your flowers are not stupid, Mike. I love your flowers. They’re expensive, too. I really appreciate it. And you always get my favorite color.”
Mike leaves damp tear stains all over Will’s sweater, well, his sweater, but who cares.
“Yeah, but they’re not as incredible as this.”
Will grins proudly, as he should. He gently tips Mike’s chin up. “This is what you get for being you.”
Mike presses into Will. God, he’s the luckiest man on earth. They’re kissing again, drunk on affection and the time of the year, and soon, they’re both exhausted from happily crying.
Their breaths mingle as they lay together on the couch, tucked under the big blanket until Mike is daydreaming about Will all over again, about snuggling into bed tonight, and he apparently voices the idea, because Will is no sooner tugging at his collar, kissing him all the way into the bedroom, half-tripping over their favorite blanket draped over their shoulders.
He doesn’t really know if he said anything or not. Between stolen breaths, it’s easy to get a little lost. But what does it matter when Will reads his mind between everything?
That fact used to scare Mike, when he realized how much Will knew him. What other dark thoughts would he uncover?
Mike lays Will down gently, like crestfallen snow.
They part to breathe, and the air feels warmer in here. It’s dark, windows shut, and it smells like the waft of candles and fresh detergent.
Mike lights the lamp, and Will doesn’t even flinch as the color washes his face. He smiles up at Mike, making sure he sees the gentle rise of his lips.
“Hi,” Will whispers.
Mike’s heart flips in his chest. They speak like they’re in a field of daisies, out of the cold and into some well-versed fantasy. Will is a royal king, and Mike gets to be his muse.
“Hi.”
He just had to learn how to be in a little light.
So Mike is pushing, sliding Will back as he kisses him, his hands over the junction between Will’s hips and waist, and they roll into bed, tangling the blanket along with them. It takes a long, long time for them to breathe again. It’s all hands and hearts and contented breaths until Will whispers.
“No movie tonight?”
There he is, reading his mind again. Mike breaks the kiss to move along Will’s cheek, his jaw, leaving room to talk while still being his.
“Mm, do you wanna?”
Will hums. “I don’t know.”
Mike smiles amusedly against his skin, their knees bumping as they close in on each other.
“What don’t you know, movie man?”
Will guffaws. Everything’s a little loose, right now. It’s dizzying. They both want to stay here forever, maybe melt into the bed a little bit more, talk until their throats hurt.
“I don’t know… what mood you’re in.”
The statement makes Mike draw back, their noses inches apart as they stare at each other.
And for a moment, Mike just traces the line of Will’s face, making goosebumps flare gently along his neck. God, it’s so beautiful knowing that Will gets the chills normally, now. Normalcy is for cowards, Will told him once, but this is so much different.
Will knows it. He feels it. Mike can see it in his eyes, those pools of love and memory.
“Try again,” Mike teases.
Will narrows his eyes, right on cue, depriving Mike of those pretty beacons of life so he can be serious for once.
“Try what again?”
“What mood I’m in.”
Will sighs, like this isn’t the first time. And it isn’t.
“Let’s see,” Will starts, and Mike bites back a smile, excited to hear Will speak up close. He’s been missing this all day. Corporate chatter get so boring, but they have to make it out here, somehow.
Anyway, this is what he was truly made for.
“You’re not sad.” Will’s hand pushes up his arm, trailing higher, and Mike watches Will’s eyes again, trying not to move.
“You’re not upset. Not stressed.” His fingers curl into Mike’s scalp, scratching ever so lightly. Mike’s eyes close for a moment.
“Not scared.”
Will’s listing the obvious, but Mike knows better than to say something about it. He’s building the narrative, the hero’s journey, until they come to the end.
“You’re kind.”
Mike opens his eyes again.
“Stronger than you think.”
He tilts his head.
“A little weird.”
“A little?” Mike can’t bite his tongue.
“A little,” Will whispers, not even missing a beat.
His hands slide down, now, one dipping below his collar.
“You’re happy.”
Mike’s eyelashes flutter. Emotion gently clings to the air, to the breaths between them. Will’s hand lands right between his ribs, just left to his sternum, fingers pressing right where it matters most…
“And you’re mine.”
The softness breaks. Mike’s heart pounds tenderly under his palm, their lips meeting in a deep kiss. He still remembers that day. That moment that changed everything.
The heart remembers.
Mike didn’t understand, at first. He didn’t know why Will had lied. But when he did, there, in the pouring rain, something colder than snow or ice or all the unexpected storms they’ve faced in the past few years in New York combined, he felt everything like it was on fire.
Will was terrified. He ran. He ran away, like he was so good at doing.
Mike grabbed his wrist.
There Will was again, petrified, something unsaid on both of their lips that Mike was too stupid to say before.
It’s just so impossible to get enough.
“You listed, like,” Mike murmurs, “a total of three actual moods in that.”
Will laughs into his mouth, and Mike kisses him harder.
It isn’t until Will stretches, bumps his stomach a little too hard that they break, laughing again. Underneath it all are the kids that met on that playground, tapping wildly at each other’s shoulders, searching incessantly for potato bugs, all the little things that shaped them together.
“So, what’s your conclusion?” Mike presses, curious.
“I don’t know.”
“Jesus, Will.”
Will laughs and laughs.
“All that for what?”
“For kissing you,” he manages between breaths. “Because you’re being cute again.”
Mike suppresses the urge to kiss Will again and lose their train of thought, like he knows neither of them would mind doing.
“I’m serious, Will, can we watch something?”
“I can’t decide.”
“No?”
“Better gift chooses,” Will teases, and Mike scoffs.
“So choose, Will.”
“No.”
Mike shakes his head fondly. So stubborn.
It doesn’t matter, really, at the end of the night. They’re a little chilly, cozy so long as they’re hand in hand, and they want to occupy their cuddling hours with something.
Mike’s eyes flick down before looking back up, triumphant. “How about Star Wars?”
Will pretends to contemplate the decision before he shrugs. “We like Star Wars.”
Mike chuckles, spreading out the blanket, moving it away from Will’s stomach so he can also pretend, looking at the sweater, but more so the little curve of skin peeking out beneath. Will always looks good, but he looks especially good in Mike’s clothes. It’s yet another reminder, unspoken, that he’s his.
“Which one?”
“We gotta start at the beginning, of course.”
Will gives him that little look. “Your beginning or the real beginning?”
Mike shakes his head. “We can go with yours, if you so want, purist.”
A smile lifts Will’s features. “No. No, let’s start with Phantom Menace.”
Will sits up, and Mike moves with him, their foreheads nearly bumping as they catch each other, limb to limb.
“Oh, yeah?” Mike likes the sound of that.
“Yeah.” His voice lowers. “Because we can’t miss episode two.”
Will called Mike “young Anakin” once. He didn’t see the similarities until it was painfully obvious. Protective—very protective—cold until he got his way, a little rough around the edges.
Pretty. Will pointed that out, too. He’d like to be jealous of Will’s fascination until he remembers that Will is focused on how it relates to him. And when the romance in Attack of the Clones gets a little too real, they like to make it their own.
“Or… we could just. Stay here. Read something, maybe,” Will suggests, clearly still prodding, but Mike suddenly perks up.
“Oh, my god.”
Will startles, just a little, mostly tired from how cozy he is. “Hm?”
“Wait. I almost forgot.”
“Forgot what?” he asks, like the night has been perfect as it is. He doesn’t need anything more. Of course he doesn’t, but Mike can’t just leave it.
“I don’t just have flowers for you.”
Mike grins, planting a kiss on that pretty smile before he pulls away, crawling over to the side of the bed and rummaging through his drawer.
Will sits up, following his hands until Mike pulls out his prize.
“Mike,” Will whispers, but before he can get another word out, his eyes zero in on the sealed paper in Mike’s hand.
Mike comes right into position along his side. “I also made something for you. Not as fancy, but it’s… for you.”
The envelope passes between their fingers, and Will starts to get that dreamy look in his eyes that makes him look so tiny, almost, like a kid again, getting his first Christmas present.
Mike bites his lower lip as Will tears open the seal.
Then Will does the unthinkable. He looks nervous, almost, like he knows what this will bring. He pulls out the letter like it’s a snowflake, precious and beautiful, and he can barely look at the penmanship before he extends his hand. “Read it to me?”
Mike’s eyes widen. “What?”
“Read it to me,” Will repeats, voice even softer, and Mike knows he can’t say no.
Will’s been doing that a lot, lately. Asking Mike for a favor and buttering him up with that look on his face, the drop in his already deep voice that wins Mike in an instant. He’s sneaky about it, too. Mike doesn’t even realize he’s done half the house chores until he sees Will smiling at him, thanking him once it’s over.
“No,” Mike says weakly. “It’s yours, now.”
His foot presses against his ankle.
“Please, my heart?”
Shit.
Mike’s lips press together in a quenched rebuttal, and Will slides the letter back into his fingers.
“You’re impossible,” he whispers, face red as a rose.
“I love you, too.”
And so the two unfold, scooting closer together, Will giving him those eyes like he’s holding the world as he speaks. It reminds Mike of when he would DM. He never quite caught it, then. He cherishes all of it, now.
“Dear Will.”
Will scoots closer, lays back at the same time, giving him room to proclaim.
“You know what I’m going to say. I don’t even need to write it. I want to write it, anyway.”
Will leans in.
“I fall deeper in love with you every year. I don’t know how you make it possible, but you do. You’re the best thing in my life. You are my life, Will.” He underlined that “are.”
Mike swallows before he continues. “I know that this is excessive, but I really can’t tell you enough how much I adore you. I didn’t think that I was all that great, but whenever you just look at me, I’m loved. I’m home. I felt that pretty much the moment we met, and I get to feel it every day. Every hour.” The more Mike continues, the more comfortable he gets. “You call me your heart and your muse, but it’s always been you, Will. You’re my inspiration. No matter what happened, no matter what is to come, I know that you’ll be facing it head-on. Be it stupid taxes, whatever stress we have at work, or just taking care of me when I’m sick, you’re always right there. You’re the strongest person I know, Will.”
He remembers sitting down at the desk, writing in one go, barely needing to stop and think. “And you never give up on me. On love. You make me remember how good it is to love. It’s an honor to be yours. I’ll be your heart, forever. I promise with everything I am.”
Mike is almost there. He pauses to look up, to lie to himself that maybe Will might not be paying attention, but he’s looking, alright, rapt and crying.
“Will, hey…”
Will shakes his head and scrubs at his eyes. “I’m—I’m fine.”
Mike doesn’t even think. “Come ‘ere.”
It’s Mike’s turn to console his boyfriend. He pushes up beside Will, rubs his arm in soothing passes. He used to do this when they were kids, when Will fell off his bike too hard or the bullying went way too far.
“Who’s making a mess, now?”
Will laughs wetly into his shoulder, a muffled, “shut up,” burrowing into his shirt.
Mike kisses his hair. “Should I give you a breather?”
Will sniffles. “Oh. You’re not done, yeah?”
“Yeah. Just a little bit more.”
Will pauses before he whispers, “no, don’t stop.”
Mike picks up the letter again, Will still right in his arms.
“I can’t wait to see what your next project is. I hope that by the time I’m reading this, you’re already done.”
Will shakes his head with a fond smile. “I’m not. Not yet.”
“Dang it.”
There’s a gentle pause when Will’s fingers spread out along Mike’s back, now nestled closer to his front than his side. Mike lays back and sighs happily as he rests his head on Will’s.
“Even if you’re not,” he reads slowly like a prophecy, “my favorite thing is you. So I’m not waiting for anything.”
“Mike,” Will coos, and he lifts his head, eyes still glinting softly in the light. God, Will is so beautiful when he’s happy.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Will,” he whispers, not even needing to look at the paper. “Here’s to many more. Love, Mike.”
Then they're kissing again, as it seems natural to do to close out every conversation, at this point. They stay there for a long time, just holding each other, savoring the hours of time they have.
It’s simple. It’s all they’ve ever wanted.
They return to the couch after a while, practically in the same position, under the same blanket. Will snuggles into Mike’s chest, and Mike has his arms around him, unable to let go.
Phantom Menace plays in the foreground as they watch, but really, it’s all background noise.
“I’m kinda hungry.”
Mike’s tracing little shapes into Will’s spine, counting the dips in each vertebrae. He takes one look at Will’s face to know what he wants. He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to.
“The usual?”
Will smiles. “And some Coke. I think we’re out.”
And so the two share a warm Hawaiian pizza and untimely cold drinks on the couch, staying in while the whole world makes plans to dine out. They don’t really get the chance to do the same things many couples do, but they always find a way.
“Warm enough?” Mike whispers into Will’s ear. Though he can see the comfortable droop in Will’s gaze, he still needs to be sure.
Will gives him an attempt at a nod. “Warm enough.”
Mike sighs, his life’s work complete. “Good.”
Mike truly dreamed of a life like this, well fed, well dressed, well loved. He never thought he could do it past his mother’s nagging arms, but here he is, alone with his favorite person in the world.
He cradles Will close, breathing in the soft scent of his hair mixed with a little pine and cinnamon candles, flowers now in a vase, that same yellow ribbon like a trophy around the neck of the glass.
And when Will falls asleep in his embrace, safe and well, the day coming to a close, all is perfect.