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Mike opened his eyes to pale morning sunlight slipping through the curtains in soft golden lines. For a second he stayed still, warm and half-asleep, tucked beneath the blankets with Will pressed against him.
Then he felt it, the arm around his chest tightened slightly, instinctive even in sleep.
Mike smiled before he could stop himself and turned over carefully, face-to-face with Will.
Will was still asleep, hair messy against the pillow, dark lashes resting softly against flushed cheeks. His hair had flattened strangely on one side from sleep, little pieces sticking out in different directions, and Mike had to bite back a laugh because somehow Will still looked beautiful like that.
His lips were parted just enough for quiet breaths to slip out, warm against the small space between them.
Mike studied him carefully, slowly, like if he looked hard enough he could keep this version of Will forever.
The sleepy one.
The safe one.
The one that didn’t have his shoulders pulled tight like he was waiting for the world to hurt him again.
Mike’s eyes drifted over every little detail. The faint freckles scattered over Will’s nose. The tiny crease in his cheek from the pillow. The curve of his mouth. The little birthmark above his lip.
Will used to hate that birthmark
But mike loved it
Will used to tilt his face away in pictures because of that birthmark.
Mike remembered that.
He remembered Will being thirteen and shrugging hard when someone pointed it out, pretending he didn’t care. Remembered him ducking his head behind his bowl-cut hair like disappearing was easier than being looked at too long.
But Mike wanted to look at him forever.
His fingers drifted slowly up Will’s arm to his shoulder, feather-light so he wouldn’t wake him. Will’s skin was warm beneath his fingertips, soft with sleep. Mike traced the line of his neck next, from his lips to his clavicle measured about 8-9 kisses . Mike caressed his neck careful and reverent, and his chest tightened strangely when Will unconsciously leaned into the touch.
Like even asleep, he trusted him.
That feeling hit Mike all at once.
So sudden it almost hurt.
His throat tightened.
He let his fingers wander higher, brushing gently along Will’s jaw. The stubble of almost-grown-up softness there made something emotional twist deep in his chest. Because Will wasn’t the little kid following him around Hawkins anymore.
But somehow he still looked at Mike with those same huge, trusting eyes.
Mike swallowed hard.
His thumb brushed beneath Will’s eye carefully, tracing the faint purple shadows there. Will always looked tired lately. Like he carried too much inside himself. But right now, asleep in the weak gold light, he looked peaceful.
Beautiful.
Mike’s chest ached with it.
He kept staring.
And staring.
Every second made it worse somehow.
Because the more he noticed, the more overwhelmed he became by the fact that Will was here. Beside him. Close enough to touch. Close enough that Mike could feel each soft breath against his mouth.
Close enough that this was real.
His hand cupped Will’s cheek gently.
Warm, so warm.
Mike’s thumb brushed over his lips before he could stop himself, and Will sighed quietly in his sleep, eyelashes fluttering.
Mike felt something inside him completely give way.
God, he loved him.
Not in the abstract, far-away way he used to think love worked. Not in the stupid movie sense. Not in some dramatic lightning-bolt moment.
It was smaller than that.
Softer.
It was knowing exactly how Will’s face looked in morning light. It was memorizing the shape of his sleepy smile. It was wanting to protect every tender thing inside him. It was seeing all the places the world had bruised and hurt and frightened him and loving him more because of it, not less.
Mike’s vision blurred suddenly.
He blinked hard, embarrassed immediately even though Will was still asleep.
His fingers slid carefully into Will’s hair, pushing back the soft waves fallen over his forehead. Mike lingered there, fingertips resting against his temple like he couldn’t bear to let go yet.
Then, unable to help himself, he leaned forward and pressed the softest kiss against the corner of Will’s mouth.
Will stirred immediately.
His brows twitched first. Then his eyes fluttered open slowly, green and sleepy and unfocused at first before landing on Mike.
And softening instantly.
“Hi,” Will mumbled, voice rough with sleep.
Mike’s chest tightened so painfully he thought it might actually split open.
“Hi,” he whispered back.
Will blinked at him slowly, still halfway buried in sleep. “What are you doing?”
Mike opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because Will’s voice was warm and scratchy and fond, and his hair was a mess, and his face was still pressed into the pillow, and Mike suddenly had the horrible terrifying realization that he was going to love this boy for the rest of his life.
The thought crashed into him so hard his eyes burned.
“Mike?” Will asked again, quieter now.
Mike focused hard on tracing his thumb against Will’s cheek. “Nothing.”
“Hey.” Will’s sleepy smile faded a little. “What happened?”
Mike laughed shakily under his breath, but it came out uneven. “Nothing. It’s stupid.”
Will pushed himself up immeiately onto one elbow, concern overtaking the sleepiness in his face. His hand reached for Mike automatically, thumb brushing beneath his eye.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Mike shook his head hard. “No, no. God, no.”
“Then what is it?”
Mike tried to answer.
Instead his voice cracked.
And that somehow made it worse.
Because Will’s expression changed instantly into something so gentle it nearly undid him completely.
Mike looked down between them, suddenly overwhelmed by everything at once—the warmth of the blankets, Will’s hand against his face, the sunlight in his hair, the fact that after everything, after monsters and fear and growing up and almost losing each other a hundred different ways, they were here.
Together.
Safe.
Mike let out this shaky little laugh that sounded embarrassingly close to another sob. His forehead dropped against Will’s shoulder.
“It’s just…” He swallowed hard. “I love you so much it made me cry.”
The words hung there quietly between them.
Will’s eyes widened.
“Oh, Mike…”
Mike laughed again, watery and helpless. “See? Stupid.”
“No,” Will said instantly.
His voice came out soft but certain in that way only Will could manage.
“No, it’s not.”
Mike finally looked up at him, cheeks pink with embarrassment, but Will was staring at him like his heart had just been handed something fragile and precious.
Will’s fingers brushed carefully through Mike’s hair.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I used to think nobody would ever look at me the way you do.”
Mike frowned immediately. “Will—”
“But you do.” Will’s voice wavered a little. “You look at me like I’m…” He laughed softly at himself, eyes dropping for a second. “Like I’m something important.”
“You are important.”
Will shook his head. “No, I mean—”
Mike reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly.
“You’re everything to me.”
Will went still.
The morning sunlight caught in his eyes, making them shine gold-green for just a second.
And then Mike said it before he could get scared.
“I’m not really a religious person,” he murmured, thumb brushing across Will’s knuckles, “but I do sometimes think God made you for me.”
Will’s breath caught.
For a moment he just stared at him, completely speechless.
Then his face crumpled in the softest, fondest way imaginable.
“Oh,” he whispered.
Mike immediately panicked. “Too much?”
Will shook his head so fast his hair fell into his eyes.
“No,” he said, voice breaking around a laugh. “No, it’s just—”
He covered his face for a second, overwhelmed, before peeking back at Mike through his fingers.
“You can’t just say things like that first thing in the morning.”
Mike finally smiled, small and real this time. “Sorry.”
Will grabbed his wrist before he could pull away.
“Don’t apologize.”
Their foreheads rested together, quiet filling the room again except for the faint sound of birds outside and the creak of the house settling awake around them.
Then Will whispered, almost shyly:
“I think maybe He made you for me too.”