Will’s back pressed against the tree, rain plastering his hair and clothes, but he barely felt the cold. His chest heaved like his lungs might burst, the pounding heartbeat deafening. Somewhere in the storm, Mike’s shaky breaths edged closer.
Mike’s fingers scraped the bark, trembling as if the tree could hold him up when everything else was falling apart. Will didn’t want to meet his eyes — but when he did, Mike was already looking. His eyes were red — not from the rain, not from exhaustion — something raw, desperate, like the last line of defense breaking apart.
“I almost…” Mike’s voice hitched, low and ragged, “I almost lost you.”
The words dropped heavy, crushed down Will’s ribs like a weight. His throat tightened.
Mike swallowed hard, like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. “You don’t get it. When you disappeared—when I thought you were gone—I… I don’t know how I kept breathing. My chest, it just stopped. Everything stopped.”
Will’s fingers twitched at his sides, unsure if he should reach out or stay frozen. Mike’s eyes searched his like he was begging for something — forgiveness? Reassurance? An anchor?
“I’m scared,” Mike said, voice trembling like a thread about to snap. “Not just because of what’s out there. But because… because you mean everything. You’re everything.”
Will’s breath caught hard. The storm roared around them, but the space between felt impossibly small, electric.
Mike’s hand moved, tentative, uncertain — a brush against Will’s. Their fingers touched lightly, then lingered, longer than any accident.
Will didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to.
Their faces drifted closer without either of them noticing — slow, unintentional — until their breaths mixed, cold and sharp in the rain.
Mike’s eyes flickered down to Will’s lips, then back up, wild and searching.
Will swallowed, voice barely above a whisper. “Mike…”
“I don’t want to lose you,” Mike said, his voice breaking.
Will’s heart thundered in his chest, every nerve screaming. “Me neither.”
Neither moved. Neither spoke.
The rain hammered down, blurring the world around them.
And still, the silence stretched — heavy, fragile, and full of everything neither of them dared say.
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