pipe cleaner with eyes

why? cause they were scared of losing profit? losing viewers? then fuck everything they stand for. that show is about losers and outcasts and if they care more about the fucking homophobic GA than they care about the losers and freaks that have put so much time and love into praising their show, analyzing it, spending day in and day out making posts about it, then fuck them.

self acceptance? really? i’m sorry if that’s the finality of will’s arc then it fucking sucks. yes i’m happy and proud that he’s accepted himself but that means he’s just destined to be alone?

and you suddenly wanna erase the whole signals and avalanche talk? i’d understand moving past it if you didn’t have mike EXACTLY replicating those signals. “shared looks” “bump of the elbow”. you can’t have that conversation, have mike FOLLOW those actions, word for word, in the very next episode, and then declare it’s unrequited.

mike has will’s painting apron tied around him, courtesy of will after mike had managed to spill flour on himself during the first step. mike tries tossing the pizza to impress will, nearly ends up dropping it and plops it back onto the counter in a sad, elongated lump of what it used to be. mike keeps bumping his elbow and his shoulder against will’s, grinning and cracking jokes to see the concentrated furrow of will’s brow dissipate into laughter. mike spills the cheese all over the counter, distracted by the soft determination on will’s features as he worked. mike watches will place his nearly perfect pizza in the oven beside his own muddled mess of one, scoffing and protesting his was better.

will’s smiling and rolling his eyes as he dampens a towel, stepping towards mike where flour is dusted across freckled cheeks. one hand instinctively lands on his jaw, keeping him from twisting away as he wipes away the flour wordlessly. mike studies will in the moment he’s allowed, pulse hammering in his throat just an inch below where will’s fingers rest. will registers the scarlet hue burning beneath his touch and the color begins to sink into his own skin, recoiling his hands as they ran hot to the touch. mike’s own flour-dusted hands came to cradle will’s face, swiftly leaning down to press their lips together before he dared to overthink the look in Will’s eyes. will melts into him easier than he’d dreamed of, fingers gently curling around his wrists.