Mike can feel his heart sink the moment will says if, the hope
inside him withers up and disappears like smoke. Mike doesn't have an
answer to his question. He knows what he would like to do if they go
inside. He knows that he wants to kiss him for hours, fall asleep on the
couch together, or up in his bedroom, wake up and play video games until
it's time to meet the others, feel whole again in the knowledge that he
hasn't lost him. He wants it so badly he can feel it like an ache in his
bones.
Can you promise me you're going to give it a shot?That you won't change your mind in the cold light of morning?Can you swear you won't do that this time?
Mike stares at Will, the corners of his mouth twitching as he considers
each of these questions. He could tell him what he wants to hear, but
that's always been the most important rule in the Party. Friends don't
lie. And Will had been his first friend. His best friend. The most
important person to be honest with. Everything had fallen apart because
Mike hadn't been honest enough to just tell him how he was feeling. To do
anything less than to be honest right now would be unforgivable. Even if
it hurts like hell.
"I want to," Mike says, biting his lip. "I've wanted to." I've wanted
you. He takes in a shaky breath, feeling his eyes well up again. "But
I can't..." He feels them spill over as he looks back at Will. "I don't
know if I can give you what he does." Each word feels like a cut to his
wrists. "We couldn't tell anyone."
Because that would mean that he was gay and that would mean putting a
target on Will, himself and their families. Because it's more than just
about the two of them, even if it shouldn't be. And Daniel probably takes
Will out on dates, gets to take him home and kiss him and touch him and...
Mike feels bile rise up into his throat. He can't do that. He lives in
Chicago and he hates it, but he's stuck there for the next three years.
Three years of phone calls and letters and not being able to touch Will or
see him unless it's a holiday or the summer. He knows it's not fair to
Will or himself. He thinks it would just be more hurt building up between
them. He wouldn't lose him, but why would Will want to hang on to that?
How could he not resent Mike for holding him back?
He feels dizzy and unsteady, the way he'd felt after losing too much blood
that one time. Part of him wishes he could pass out and put this
conversation off for later. It feels like the end. Like that last night
all over again, except he knows death isn't a possibility. He's going to
have to live with it this time. "I think I..." The word is on the edge of
his tongue but it feels too hard to say. This time not because he doesn't
mean it but because of how much he does. He presses his lips
together to keep himself from saying it. To keep himself from dragging
Will along any more than he already has. He sniffs, wiping at his face
with his sleeve. "I don't want to break your heart again."
no subject
Mike can feel his heart sink the moment will says if, the hope inside him withers up and disappears like smoke. Mike doesn't have an answer to his question. He knows what he would like to do if they go inside. He knows that he wants to kiss him for hours, fall asleep on the couch together, or up in his bedroom, wake up and play video games until it's time to meet the others, feel whole again in the knowledge that he hasn't lost him. He wants it so badly he can feel it like an ache in his bones.
Can you promise me you're going to give it a shot? That you won't change your mind in the cold light of morning? Can you swear you won't do that this time?
Mike stares at Will, the corners of his mouth twitching as he considers each of these questions. He could tell him what he wants to hear, but that's always been the most important rule in the Party. Friends don't lie. And Will had been his first friend. His best friend. The most important person to be honest with. Everything had fallen apart because Mike hadn't been honest enough to just tell him how he was feeling. To do anything less than to be honest right now would be unforgivable. Even if it hurts like hell.
"I want to," Mike says, biting his lip. "I've wanted to." I've wanted you. He takes in a shaky breath, feeling his eyes well up again. "But I can't..." He feels them spill over as he looks back at Will. "I don't know if I can give you what he does." Each word feels like a cut to his wrists. "We couldn't tell anyone."
Because that would mean that he was gay and that would mean putting a target on Will, himself and their families. Because it's more than just about the two of them, even if it shouldn't be. And Daniel probably takes Will out on dates, gets to take him home and kiss him and touch him and...
Mike feels bile rise up into his throat. He can't do that. He lives in Chicago and he hates it, but he's stuck there for the next three years. Three years of phone calls and letters and not being able to touch Will or see him unless it's a holiday or the summer. He knows it's not fair to Will or himself. He thinks it would just be more hurt building up between them. He wouldn't lose him, but why would Will want to hang on to that? How could he not resent Mike for holding him back?
He feels dizzy and unsteady, the way he'd felt after losing too much blood that one time. Part of him wishes he could pass out and put this conversation off for later. It feels like the end. Like that last night all over again, except he knows death isn't a possibility. He's going to have to live with it this time. "I think I..." The word is on the edge of his tongue but it feels too hard to say. This time not because he doesn't mean it but because of how much he does. He presses his lips together to keep himself from saying it. To keep himself from dragging Will along any more than he already has. He sniffs, wiping at his face with his sleeve. "I don't want to break your heart again."