Summer Savings [Byler]

Chapter 12

Mike broke away, prising Will's hands off of his face and out of his hair.

"I- I'm- I'm not g-gay!" He spluttered, backing away and folding his arms across his chest, more in a protective motion than one that showcased strength, like Hopper. Will struggled to read his body language, but registered Mike's shock and what he assumed was disgust.

Finally, Will seemed to realise what he had done and messily stood up from the table, knocking his chair back with a loud clatter that made both boys wince.

"No, Mike, please, I'm sorry! I-" He took a step towards Mike with his hands slightly outstretched, who took two steps backwards.

"Stop, Will. I think you've done enough," Mike said, coldly, carefully eyeing the space between he and Will to ensure it didn't shrink, one leg poised to take another step back if needed. His throat was choked with fear, and he wasn't sure why, or what the fear was aimed at. He struggled to swallow past the ball in his throat as he forced out his next few words. "I think you should just go to bed, Will. The guest room is at the end of my corridor."

Will searched Mike's eyes desperately, looking for a sign of forgiveness, or affection, but when he did finally manage to lock their gazes, he was met only with a stone sharp glare, before Mike turned and stalked off into another room.
Will groaned, placing his hands over his eyes and dragging them down his face. He picked up his chair, and looked at the Pop Tart still on it's plate on the table. The sugary treat seemed unappealing now, and Will knew if he so much as put it near his mouth he would throw up.

He decided just to leave the food item where it was, and instead headed to the stairs. He passed the room that Mike was in, and couldn't help but sneak a look at him. The boy was hunched over, with his head in his hands, and in the half-light he had an eerie glow about him, despite the darkness of the room that partially submerged him. His raven curls covered his hands and face, and his shoulders shook slightly. Wether it was because he was cold, or for another reason, Will didn't know. He stood, suspended in the doorway for a few moments longer. Mike still hadn't seen him, so Will decided not to push his luck and instead tore his eyes away from the boy, and continued his walk to the stairs.

Will located the guest room easily, and flopped over into the bed, his movements sluggish from the alcohol. He realised he didn't have pajamas, or a toothbrush, or anything, but at the same time also realised he didn't really care. He allowed his limbs to go limp, and drifted into an uneasy sleep, his head already starting to ache.

Meanwhile, Mike was sat, dumbfounded, head in his hands. Hot tears spilled out of his eyes, trickling down his face, down his arms, dripping onto his knees. He didn't know why the kiss had upset him so much; it barely qualified as a kiss, and he'd been kissed lots by other people. Well, girls. But this one was different, and that uncertainty and unfamiliarity made him sick. And the fact Will was a boy. He'd never kissed a boy, never even thought about it until that moment. Well, maybe he had a couple of times, when he was younger. But that didn't count. And he wasn't sure what the kiss had meant. Would Will remember it in the morning? Would he try and talk to him about it, or pretend it never happened?

Mike was unaware of how long he sat there, but he knew he couldn't do it forever. So he traipsed up to his room, reliving the moments he spent there with Will as he did so, trying not to make any noise so as not to wake anyone else. The one thing he did know, however, was that he had to be out of the house before Will woke up the next morning. He knew Will didn't have a shift at the restraunt that day thanks to his mother's handy shifts rota pinned up on the fridge, so he didn't want Will to come and find him. He dug quickly through his drawers, looking for his old alarm clock. It didn't work well anymore due to it's age, but it would do the trick. Mike set it for six a.m and then placed it down on his bedside cabinet, sighing as he sunk under his duvet.