spin the bottle// byler

ii.ii (disrememberance)

mike's POV

"close your eyes and focus." 

that's all i do recently, focus. 

"it's hard to focus when all you're doing is staring at me." i raise an eyebrow toward max, who has been pestering me for the past 20 minutes about trying harder like maybe i'm not doing the best i can. 

she doesn't understand, i think, how hard i am trying.  i know she has good intentions, but all this is doing is making me sad. 

"closed, mike." el mumbles, grabbing hold of my hand. 

i sigh but do as i'm told. 

i wait and i wait, trying hard to focus. 

several minutes pass before i know something is happening because it's bright wherever i am now. it's totally and completely white, all around me. it's like i've been swallowed up by a piece of printer paper. 

"do you see him, mike?" el asks, her voice as light as a feather. 

i shake my head, looking around, focusing hard. 

"no, there's nothing here. i'm alone." i admit, feeling guilty for some reason like it's my fault that i can't see him. 

"focus, mike, he's here. i can feel him." 

he's not there. i think i would know.

"no el, he's not-"

but, then, i see him. 

he looks the way he always does, beautiful, weak, scared, ethereal, alone. 

"will?" i smile as he looks at me. 

his eyes are red like he's been crying, his lips are blue, and his skin is pale. 

"mike?" his voice is barely a whisper.

i walk to him, scared that if i get too close he might go away.

"will, i talked to them again today. they asked me about that night." i admit, looking toward the ground. 

he steps toward me and places a hand on my cheek. i place my hand on top of his, hoping that maybe this time i'll be able to feel it.

i still can't, and i know i won't ever be able to here, in this place that i'm not even sure isn't my imagination trying to help me cope with the grief of losing someone I never thought I would have to live without again, this place that is somehow in between reality and imagination.  

will picks up on my disappointment and seems to read my mind.

"mike? it's okay. i'm here and i'm glad we can spend these moments together. what did you tell the detectives?" will questions, moving his hand from my cheek to my waist, keeping it there, using his thumb to rub comforting circles onto my side. 

i wonder if will can feel me. if since he's not here in this reality, maybe he lives in the reality i'm visiting now. 

"i told them about us. he blamed your disappearance on me, he basically said that you ran away from me."  i scoff and wait for will's reaction.

he stays quiet for a moment.

"will?"

"you know that's not true, right? it wasn't you." he says quietly, lacing our fingers together. 

the conversation makes me sad so i try focusing on something else. 

i try to imagine how his fingers would feel in between mine. suddenly i have to ask him,