mike wheeler was an antisocial jerk. you knew that. so why you even bothered with him is something you can’t explain.
‧₊˚ ┊𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: college!au, a bit ooc mike(less emotionally constipated i needed something to work with sue me), self indulgent bitchy reader, frat boy lucas crumbs, frat boy mike(barely), stuck up mean!mike, frat party, angst, kissing, not proofread
˗ˏˋ a/n: pls ignore the terrible collage i threw together..,, tumblr kept crashing when i tried to add another gif ˎˊ˗
you were never a big fan of mike wheeler, mostly because he wouldn’t let you be. he was a sophomore, some creative writing major who kept to himself. you only knew he existed because of his roommate, lucas sinclair. lucas was the golden boy, the one who actually talked to people, the one who made the mistake of dragging mike to every frat party he went to.
mike was always a fixture in the background. the guy standing at the beer pong table acting like he’d rather be anywhere else, or the guy sinking into the corner of a couch with a beer he never actually finished. you never understood why lucas bothered with him, but that didn't stop you from looking. you noticed everything. his..weirdo brown eyes, his nose that somehow matched his face perfectly. and those cheekbones.. you were fifty percent sure they were botox. they had to be. nobody was born with facial structure like that.
tonight was one of those nights, you only came because you’re tired of getting called a “hermit crab” by your roommate. and the slight chance of seeing mike there gave you enough reason to go, not that you two have ever talked, since mike has a habit of rolling his eyes every time your eyes catch each other, to which you try not to take personal but also.. what the fuck? you’ve never found out what his problem is, but you did learn not to take it personally since it seems he has a problem with half of campus.
the music inside was a wall of sound, some generic house beat that vibrated right through the floorboards of the kappa sigma house. your roommate, elise, was already comfortable, swaying with her drink, but you were just scanning the room. again. wondering how the hell do people find this enjoyable.
lucas popped up out of nowhere, appearing through the sweaty crowd with that blinding, energetic smile of his. he clapped his hands together, his energy defying the humidity of the room.
"hey! you guys made it," he shouted over the bass, slinging an arm around your shoulder.
"barely," you yelled back, laughing. "elise dragged me. she says i'm a hermit crab."
"she's right, but i'm glad you're here!" lucas grinned, then his face lit up with an even brighter, more conspiratorial expression. "you guys liking the setup? mike put the whole thing together. i finally talked him into rushing this semester, and he’s actually doing it, he’s a brother now!"
you felt your heart do this weird, stupid flip in your chest. "mike? mike wheeler?"
"yeah, he's just by the keg. hold on-“ before you could protest or fix your hair or do literally anything to prepare, lucas was already moving. he grabbed your wrist, pulling you through the throng of people toward the back of the room. and there he was. mike wheeler. he was wearing a flannel that looked like it had seen better days and holding a red cup with the kind of disdain usually reserved for a bad term paper.
"mike! hey, man," lucas yelled, nudging him. mike looked up, his dark eyes instantly narrowing, then softening just a fraction when he realized it was lucas. his gaze flicked to you, and that familiar sharp edge returned. he looked like he wanted to bolt.
"mike, meet the elusive hermit crab i've been telling you about. and, uh, you know elise," lucas said, oblivious to the tension radiating off mike like heat waves. "mike’s the man of the hour. organized the logistics for the whole night."
mike didn't smile. he just gave a stiff, curt nod, shifting his weight. "yeah..cool. hi."
"hi," you said, feeling entirely too self conscious. "the party’s... really loud. in a good way, i guess."
"it's..kinda terrible," mike muttered, taking a sip of his beer without looking at you. "too many people. the acoustics are actual shit."
"be nice," lucas laughed, clapping mike on the shoulder. "i'm gonna go grab a refill. try not to scare them off, wheeler."
as soon as lucas disappeared, the silence between you was heavier than the music. mike looked like he was about to disintegrate.
"do you want to get out of here?" you blurted out. "it’s kind of suffocating."
mike looked at you, really looked at you this time, his brow furrowing. he hesitated, then nodded. "yeah. yeah, actually. let's go."
you walked out the back door, the sudden drop in temperature making you shiver. the backyard was quiet, just the distant, muffled thump of the bass vibrating through the walls. you found a spot on the grass near the edge of the property, away from the smokers and the shouting. you sat down, and mike followed, sitting cross legged, his knees pulled up to his chest.
you watched him for a second. he looked..normal out here, less like the prick of campus.
you couldn't help it. the curiosity was itching at you. "so," you started, picking at a loose thread on my jeans. "may i finally know why you give me and the rest of campus such attitude? is it personal, or does someone shit in your coffee daily?"
mike choked on air, a startled sound escaping his throat. he turned to look at you, his eyes wide and shocked, before he let out a jagged, self deprecating laugh. he dragged a hand through his hair, messing up those curls even more.
"jesus," he muttered. "you don't pull your punches, do you?"
"you make it easy," you countered, giving him a small, challenging smile.
mike sighed, looking up at the sky. he looked small, almost vulnerable, and the image you had of him being this untouchable, mean jerk started to crack. "uh, well. no. it’s not personal." he scoffed, the sound quiet and sharp. "it’s just.. it’s hard, you know? new people, loud rooms, the whole social performance thing. it’s exhausting.. i guess i.. come off as a dick sometimes. i’m-i’m sorry."
you stared at him, surprised by the honesty. "you're shy? the guy who organizes fraternity parties is shy?"
"well, lucas pushed me into it," mike defended, his cheeks flushing a faint, endearing shade of red. "it’s definitely not personal. i swear. you’re... you’re not the problem. i’m the problem."
"you're not a problem, mike," you said, your voice softening.
he turned his head toward you, the moonlight catching the harsh, sharp line of his jaw. he looked at you for a long time, the silence no longer awkward, but heavy.
"i'm sorry," he whispered. "for the eye rolls. for being a..a hermit in the middle of a crowd."
"i forgive you," you said, leaning in just an inch. "but only if you promise to stop acting like you're above everyone."
mike let out a breathless laugh, and he was leaning in too now. "i'm not above anyone. i'm just...i don’t know, awkward."
he was so close now that you could smell the faint scent of beer on him. your heart hammering against your ribs, loud enough that you were sure he could hear it.
"you're not that awkward," you breathed.
mike didn't say anything else. he just watched your lips, his gaze dropping down, then back up to your eyes, asking a silent question. you didn't make him wait. you bridged the gap, your hand finding his arm, and then his mouth was on yours.
his lips were soft, surprisingly so. you knew he had a habit of biting his lip when he was stressed, and finally feeling that texture against yours was enough to send a jolt through your spine. his hand slid up your arm, his grip firm as his fingers settled at the base of your neck.
part of you wondered if this was just the beer talking, maybe this was just a weird, drunken fluke. but he wasn't pulling away. feeling brave, you decided to see how far this could go.
you traced the tip of your tongue across his bottom lip, a quick, daring invitation. he didn't hold back. he let out a low, broken moan that was muffled against your mouth, and his lips parted, accepting the contact immediately.
the sudden shift made your confidence spike. you didn’t hesitate to plant your hand into his curls, gripping them tight to pull him in closer, needing to feel the reality of him. mike seemed stunned, like he couldn't actually believe that you, the girl he’d been trying so hard to ignore, the one he’d been acting like a total asshole toward for months, were actually right here, touching him.
he melted into you, his guard finally crumbling.
the kiss turned ugly, fast. his teeth scraped your bottom lip, not out of malice, but rather pure need. he was crowding your space, his weight pinning you further into the grass, his body practically folding over yours.
every time he adjusted his head to get a better angle, his nose dug hard into your cheek. it was sharp, pressing against your skin with an intensity that you knew would leave a red mark by morning, a bruise you’d be tracing with your thumb tomorrow while you replayed this. you didn't pull back. you only shoved your hand deeper into his hair, forcing him closer.
his tongue pushed past your lips, meeting yours in a messy wet rhythm. his hands were everywhere, his left fisting the back of your hair, the other sliding under the hem of your shirt, his palm hot and rough against your skin. every breath he took was short, hitching against your mouth. he pulled back just an inch, his lips swollen, eyes dark and blown wide as he stared at you for a single heartbeat. then he dove back down, his nose bumping your face again, harder this time. he was relentless. you hooked your fingers into the back of his collar, tugging him down until there wasn't a millimeter of air left between you, just the friction of skin against skin and the sound of your own breathing.
then, because of course, the front door swung open, cutting through the silence with a loud metallic clang. bright, colorful light spilled across the lawn, forcing you both to squint.
"mike!?" lucas yelled out.
