s

You shift carefully, trying not to wake Will beside you. Maybe if you’re quiet enough, you can get up…but then he’d see the sheet anyway because he’s still sleeping and you can't change it unless he's up, but maybe if you move just so—

“What’re you doing?” You jump at the sound of Will’s voice. You turn to him, his eyes half open as he squints at you from his pillow. 

You wince. “Nothing,” you say, trying to sound casual but failing. 

He immediately knows that's not true. “Honey.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek, afraid to move because then he’ll see the stain you’re laying on trying to cover up. 

“I...” your voice trails off and your eyes flick towards the sheet before looking back at him just as quickly. “I bled through.” 

You say it so quietly he almost doesn’t hear it. He blinks once, then looks down and sees the contrast of deep red against the gray. “Oh…” 

You nod miserably. “I’m sorry.’ 

He looks back up so fast the bed moves slightly at the movement. “What?” he asks.  

You repeat yourself, “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?”

You gesture helplessly toward the bed. “The sheets, they’re a mess.” 

He stares at you for a second like you’ve spoken another language. Then he laughs, slightly. Not making fun of you but like he’s completely baffled. “Baby,” he starts. 

Your face gets even hotter at the sentiment in his voice. “I’m serious, I’m sorry.” 

He reaches over and cups your cheek, tilting your head so your eyes meet his. “Why on earth are you apologizing?” 

“I ruined the sheets,” you say like it’s obvious. 

He shakes his head immediately, “You didn’t ruin the sheets.” 

“I stained them.” 

“We have a washing machine. Stains come out, it’s not a big deal.” 

“Will.” 

He smiles softly. “They’re sheets, Y/N. I care about you feeling okay way more than I care about the sheets.” 

He brushes his thumb across your cheek. Your lip wobbles, your throat getting tighter with emotion. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know.” 

“I hate when this happens.” 

“Mhm, I know. That’s okay.” 

You let out a shaky breath, curling in on yourself a little. “I feel gross.” 

Will shakes his head immediately. “You’re not gross. I know you feel that way but you’re not.” His voice is impossibly gentle, “Those are two different things.” He kisses your forehead.

“Go take a shower,” he says as he tosses the blankets off his body and stands up. 

You blink, confused. “What?”

“I’ll change the sheets, you take a shower and get changed into something comfy, I’ll make breakfast and we can go from there.” 

“You don’t have to do all that. I can help.”

“I know you can help, but I’m saying you don’t have to worry about it right now. I know you’re uncomfortable,” he points towards the bathroom, “so go get comfortable.” 

“But—”

“I’ve got it,” he reassures softly. 

You hesitate. “I don’t want you touching—”

He cuts you off before you can even finish. “Your blood?” 

You immediately hide your face in your hands. “Oh my god, I’m mortified.” 

He gently pulls your hands away. “Baby. It’s just your period. It’s happened before, why are you acting like you committed a crime?” 

Despite yourself, you laugh, a watery laugh. “I don’t know.” 

He kisses your forehead again, then your cheek, then your lips. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.” 

You nod, still feeling a little embarrassed, but the gentle certainty in his voice makes some of the knot in your chest loosen.

“Go on,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze. “Warm shower. I’ll take care of everything out here.”

You hesitate for another second, looking between him and the bed. “You’re sure?” 

He smiles, that easy, reassuring smile that somehow always convinces you everything is going to be okay. “I’m sure, honey.” 

You lean up and press a quick kiss to his cheek before quietly disappearing into the bathroom.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The hot water helps almost immediately.

Not enough to completely chase away the ache settling into your lower back, but enough that your shoulders finally begin to relax. You wash your hair, taking your time rinsing away the lingering discomfort from the morning. You let yourself stand beneath the spray for an extra minute with your eyes closed, reminding yourself that accidents happen, that this isn’t something to be ashamed of, it’s just normal. 

Eventually, you shut the water off, wrap yourself in a towel, and grab a pad from underneath the sink before changing into fresh underwear and one of Will’s old t-shirts you’d left hanging on the back of the bathroom door a few days prior. You towel-dry your hair just enough that it isn’t dripping before padding barefoot back toward the bedroom.

The sight waiting for you stops you in the doorway. The bed looks perfect. Fresh sheets are stretched perfectly across the mattress, the comforter smoothed flat, pillows fluffed and lined up exactly the way you always liked them. If you hadn’t been there thirty minutes ago, you never would’ve known it had even been slept in recently.

Folded neatly on your side of the bed is your favorite pair of soft plaid pajama pants, one of Will’s crewnecks; the faded gray one that’s two sizes too big on you and somehow makes every bad day a little easier, and the fuzzy socks you always take from the back of your drawer when you’re cold.

Your lip wobbles. He hadn’t just changed the sheets, but he’d also thought about what would make you feel the most comfortable and what would make today just a little easier. 

You reach down, pulling the sweatshirt over your head before burying your nose in the collar for just a second. It still smells like him, laundry detergent, cedar from his cologne, and something that’s just...Will. Before you can let yourself get emotional again, the smell of breakfast drifts down the hallway.

Butter. Coffee. Something sweet.

You smile to yourself, take one last look at the freshly made bed, and follow the smell toward the kitchen.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Will is standing at the stove wearing sweatpants, no shirt, flipping pancakes like it's the most normal morning in the world. He looks over his shoulder. “There you are.” 

He smiles. “Feel a little better?” 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” Then he notices your face. “What’s the matter?” 

Your chin trembles, and before you can stop them, tears start falling gently down your face. 

“Oh, hey.” Will immediately turns the stove down when you cover your face. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“I don’t know!” you laugh through your tears. “I genuinely don’t know.” 

He walks over immediately, wrapping his arms around you gently. 

“You made pancakes,” you say. “And you made the bed, and you didn’t make me feel embarrassed.” 

His face softens. “Oh baby…” 

You sniffle. “I just love you so much.” 

Will’s entire expression melts, and his arms tighten around you. “I love you too.” 

You bury your face in his chest, still sniffling. “I’m ridiculous for crying.” 

“No,” he says, rubbing your back. “You’re just sweet, crying isn’t ridiculous.” 

You smile into his shirt, “Maybe.” 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The rest of the day passes quietly. When your cramps get worse around lunchtime, Will is already grabbing a heating pad and Ibuprofen, refilling your water as you need it. 

When you curl up on the couch again, he sits down next to you, giving you space. And when you decide two minutes later that you don’t want space, his arms open up and you climb into his lap without a word, nuzzling into him. 

He kisses your forehead. “Better?” 

You hesitate before asking softly, “Can you rub my back?” 

Immediately one of his hands makes its way to your lower back that tends to cramp up on your heaviest days, and starts making soothing circles under your shirt, right against your skin. 

“My stomach too?” you ask. His other hand slides beneath the blanket to rest gently over your lower abdomen.

“There?”

“Mhm,” you hum in approval as your eyes drift closed. 

A few minutes later your breathing has evened out and you’ve relaxed, but you aren’t asleep. “You hungry?” Will asks quietly. 

“No,” you mumble. Not because it’s the truth but because you don’t want to move to get something to eat, or let him get up to get something for you. 

He waits a few seconds before asking something else. “Want strawberries?”

Your eyes snap open at the idea, realizing that that’s exactly what you want. Not too sweet, cold, perfect. “...Little bit,” you say. 

He pats your side as a signal for you to let him up so he can grab what you need. Reluctantly, you let him go. 

Five minutes later he’s back with a bowl full of fresh strawberries you bought the day before, and a fresh glass of water just how you like it. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

By dinner, you’re tired again. Not sleepy, but drained. Everything feels achy despite having taken medicine and drinking plenty of water, which usually helps with the pain. 

At this point existing and moving around feels like work. 

Will notices before you say anything, because you’re stubborn enough to not say anything unprompted if you’re feeling this bad, he learned that quickly. 

“You wanna order food?” he suggests lightly, not trying to force anything, just opening the door.

You shrug. “I don’t care.” You absolutely care, but you’re at the I don’t feel like saying much phase of the day. 

He nudges your shoulder with his, “You care a little.”

“...Mac and cheese?” you suggest quietly, twisting the end of your sleeves around your hands. 

He grins. “I had a feeling.” 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

That evening, after he’s cleaned the kitchen from your quick mac and cheese dinner, he finds you curled on the couch again, this time laying on your stomach. Your blanket is up to your chin and the heating pad cord disappears near your stomach. There’s a movie playing quietly on the TV, but you’re not paying it any attention. You look miserable. 

Will crouches in front of you, brushing your hair off your cheek to get you to open your eyes. “Scale of one to ten?” he asks softly. 

You think about how bad your stomach is hurting…it’s hurting bad. 

“Seven…” you answer quickly. 

“Cramps?”

You nod. 

“On your back?”

“Mhm, an’—” 

“Everywhere else?” 

“...Mhm.” 

His heart nearly breaks at how pitiful you sound. He nods once, kissing your hair before standing up. “I’ll be right back,” he says. 

You assume he’s grabbing more medicine, or something to keep your mind off your discomfort. Instead he comes back twenty minutes later as you’re lying in the same position he left you in. 

“Come here,” he says, motioning for you to get up. 

You blink, confused, “What?” 

“I made you something,” he says. 

Curious, you follow him down the hallway, through your bedroom, and you see the bathroom door cracked open. 

Steam curls into the room as you open the door wider and step inside. 

The bathtub is full, steam rising off the surface. The room smells like the lavender bath salts you bought months ago but never use. One of those little bath pillows is propped up on the opposite side of the tub from the faucet, and a candle flickers on the counter of the sink. 

You just stare. “Will.” 

He rubs the back of his neck. “I figured,” he shrugs, “warm water usually helps, and if you’re feeling achy all over then this might be nice.” 

You look back at the tub. Then at him again.

He smiles. “I just want you to be comfortable.” 

Your eyes fill again, and he notices immediately. “Oh no,” he teases, smiling.

You laugh, “I’m not sad.”

“I know.”

You shake your head, “I just don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 

He walks over until he's standing right in front of you. Then he takes your face in both hands. “You existed,” he says easily. 

“What?”

His thumbs brush beneath your eyes. “All you did was exist and I got lucky enough to love you.” He smiles that soft smile that always makes your heart ache.

You don't even try to stop yourself this time as you throw your arms around him and cry. He catches you easily, holding you against him. “You spoil me,” you mumble against his skin. 

“I know. I actually don’t think I spoil you enough,” he laughs. 

You tilt your head back. “I don’t think that’s possible.” 

He kisses your nose. “How about…” Another kiss, this time to your cheek. “...you take your bath…” One on your temple. “...and let me take care of you.”

You smile. “Deal…even though you’ve basically been doing it all day.” 

He playfully pokes your side which makes you laugh, before kissing you properly, and letting you get in the bath. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Later that night, after the bath has eased some of the ache from your back and Will has helped you into yet another one of his shirts, you crawl into bed beside him with sleepy eyes and warm skin. You curl against his chest without saying a word while his hands find you beneath the blankets. 

“Feeling any better?”

“A little…it sounds weird but I feel fresh.” 

You feel him smile against your hairline. “That’s good, baby.” 

You nod. Then, after a quiet moment, mumble against his shirt, “Thank you for making today not feel awful.” 

Will kisses the top of your head. “There was never going to be a version of today where you had to get through it by yourself.”

His arm tightens around your back while his opposite hand comes to pull your leg over his hips. “So next month?” he says, “we’ll just do it again.” 

You smile into his chest. “With the pancakes and the strawberries and baths if I want them?” 

“Even if you don’t ask for it, I’ll do it. Whatever you need, sweet girl.” 

You smile against him, and for the first time all day, your body finally feels like it can relax. 

You tip your head back just enough to look at him. “Thank you,” you murmur again. 

His expression softens immediately. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I know.” You reach up to brush your fingers over his jaw. “I just love you so I feel like I should say thank you.”

He smiles, that small, impossibly soft smile that makes your heart flutter every time you see it, and leans down to kiss your forehead one more time, softer than he has all day. 

“I love you too,” he whispers against your skin. “On the easy days. On the hard days. And on the days where all you need is pancakes, strawberries, and to be held.”

A sleepy laugh escapes you. “That's...a lot of days.”

“Good,” he says without missing a beat. “Means I get to love you a lot.”

You shake your head fondly before tucking yourself back against him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

For the first time all day, your body finally lets go of every ounce of tension you’d been carrying since you woke up. The cramps are still there and you’ll probably wake up tomorrow feeling just as sore. 

But wrapped up in Will’s arms, with the scent of lavender still lingering on your skin and his fingers rubbing up and down your back, none of it feels quite so overwhelming anymore.

You’ve long since learned that love doesn’t always look like grand gestures. Sometimes it looks like fresh sheets on a bed or pancakes in the early hours of the morning. Occasionally it looks like a bath already waiting for you before you even realize you need one. Maybe that's what loving Will meant. Because long before he’d ever said the words, Will had been teaching you what love looked like, and somehow, even after all these years, it still looked exactly like this.

Macklin hovers above you, his lips tracing a path down your neck, his body trembling with a desperate need that's almost palpable. He's already naked, his golden skin flushed with arousal, but there's a tension in his shoulders that tells you something's wrong.

"What is it, baby?" you murmur, running your fingers through his hair.

He pulls back, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. In his hand, he holds the small foil packet, looking at it like it's personally offended him. "I… I can't put it on," he whispers, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "My hands…. my hands are shaking too much."

You cup his face, thumbs stroking his heated skin. "Hey, it's okay. We don't have to."

"But we should," he insists, though his voice lacks conviction. "It's responsible."

"Are you clean?" you ask softly. He nods. "Am I clean?" Another nod. "And I'm on the pill. We're okay, Mack. I can help you put it on if you want to, but we don't have to."

The relief that washes over his face is palpable. "Really? You'd let me go… without?"

"Really, baby," you confirm, pulling him down for a kiss. "Now come here. I want you."

The kiss deepens, tongues tangling as Macklin settles between your thighs. His cock presses against your entrance, hard and eager, but he still hesitates, his body trembling above you.

"Please," he whimpers against your lips. "Can I…?"

"You don't have to ask, baby," you assure him, reaching down to guide him inside. "Just take what you need."

He enters you with a choked groan, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he stills, overwhelmed by the raw sensation. It's nothing like he's ever felt before, no barrier, just the warm, wet, pulsing heat of you sucking him deeper, welcoming him home.

Your walls flutter around him, clenching and releasing in a rhythm that makes his head spin.

"F-fuck," he breathes, his voice muffled against your skin, stuttering over the simple word. "You feel… god, you feel so good. So… so tight. Like you're… pulling me in."

"You feel good too, baby," you praise, running your nails down his back. "So big, stretching me so perfectly. Such a good boy for me."

Macklin whimpers at your words, his hips beginning to move in shallow, tentative thrusts. "Am I… am I making you feel good?"

"Amazing," you assure him, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. "You're doing so good, Mack. Always good for me. Look at us, baby. Look at how we're connected."

Your praise seems to unlock something in him. His movements become more confident, his thrusts deeper as he tries to hit that spot inside you that makes you see stars. He props himself up on his elbows, his eyes glazed with lust as he watches where your bodies join, mesmerized by the sight of his bare cock disappearing into you again and again.

"Like this?" he asks, adjusting his angle, his voice breaking. "Is this better? Are you… am I making you feel good?"

"So good," you gasp as he hits just right. "Right there, baby. Don't stop. You're so deep."

He obeys, his rhythm faltering slightly as he concentrates on hitting that spot over and over again.

His face is buried in your neck, his hot breath against your skin as he pants and whimpers with each thrust. The sounds he's making are desperate, needy little whines and choked-off moans that tell you how close he already is.

"Scratch me," he begs, his voice ragged. "Please, I want to feel it. Want to remember… remember this."

You oblige, your nails digging into his shoulders and down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. Macklin cries out, his hips stuttering as the pain-pleasure shoots through him.

"Fuck, yes," he groans. "Mark me up. Make me yours. Always want to… want to see these and remember."

"You're already mine, baby," you assure him, pulling his head up for a messy kiss. "All mine. So handsome, so strong, taking such good care of me. Look at you, baby. Look how beautiful you are, fucking me like this."

The praise flows freely from your lips, each word making him more desperate. He's trying so hard to hold back, to make sure you come first, but you can feel him getting closer with every thrust, his cock swelling inside you, his movements becoming more erratic.

"It's okay, baby," you whisper against his lips. "Let go for me. Fill me up. Want to feel it, Mack. Want to feel you coming inside me."

With a choked cry that's half your name, half a sob, Macklin buries himself deep inside you, his release hot and overwhelming. You can feel every pulse of his cock as he empties himself into you, the warmth spreading through you, marking you as his.

The feeling of him coming inside you, raw and unprotected, pushes you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you as you clench around him, milking every last drop from his trembling body.

Macklin collapses against you, his weight welcome as he trembles through the aftershocks. When he finally pulls out, he's mesmerized by the sight before him, by his cum slowly dripping from your well-fucked pussy.

"God," he whispers, reaching out with a trembling hand. His fingers collect some of his release and before he realizes what he's doing, he's rubbing it into your clit, his touch reverent. "So beautiful. You're… you're full of me."

Then the reality of what just happened seems to hit Macklin all at once. His eyes widen as he looks at his fingers, then at the mess between your thighs.

"Oh god," he says, scrambling off the bed. "We didn't… we should… shower. You should shower. Now. I… I just… oh god."

You can't help but smile at his sudden panic. "Mack, it's okay."

"No, it's not," he insists, already pacing the room. "What if… what if you get pregnant? I mean, I know you're on the pill but nothing's a hundred percent and… I just… I came inside you and then I… oh god, I touched it and rubbed it on you and…"

"Hey," you say softly, sitting up and holding out your hand. "Come here."

Reluctantly, he approaches, taking your hand. You pull him down to sit beside you.

"I'm okay," you assure him. "We're okay. But if it makes you feel better, we can shower together."

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly at that. "Yeah? Together?"

"Of course, baby," you say, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "And then you can take care of me, just like you always do."

A small smile plays on his lips as he helps you up, his hand possessively on the small of your back as he leads you to the bathroom. True to his word, he takes care of you, gently washing your body, massaging your shoulders and pressing soft kisses to your skin.

Later, wrapped in clean sheets with Macklin curled around you, you can't help but stare at the beautiful boy in front of you.

"Next time," he murmurs against your hair, "I'll practice with condoms when I'm alone. So I don't mess up again."

You cup his cheek in you hand, making him look ab at you with those beautiful eyes. "You didn't mess up, Mack. It was perfect."

"Really?"

"Really," you confirm, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "But if you want to practice, I'm happy to help with that too."

The blush that spreads across his cheeks is endearing, as is the way he buries his face in your neck to hide it.

As much as Macklin loves seeing his family in the summer, he doesn’t always love waking up at the ass crack of dawn to do workouts with this father and brothers. Not when it means leaving you behind in bed. Especially not when he wants nothing more than to stay wrapped protectively around you, breathing in the familiar scent of your favorite lotion.

“Go back to bed, baby.” Macklin whispers, kissing your temple as you subconsciously shift to his now empty side of the bed. You snuggle your face into his pillow, and Mack tucks the blankets firmly around you. And as much as Mack wants to tell his father he’s skipping it today, he knows he can’t. So against everything he wants, he turns away from you, and goes outside to meet with his dad and brothers.

So, by 7am, all of the Celebrini men found themselves outside. A thin layer of sweat coats Mack’s spine as he reaches down for the resistance band.

RJ groans as he starts, and Robyn looks up from the rim of her sunglasses, watching as her youngest son gripes about being tired. Aiden stays relatively quiet like he normally does during work outs, and today so does Mack. Because his mind is somewhere else, on someone else.

But before Rick can say anything to his sons, everyone’s attention moves to the sliding door as it opens.

You step out, and while his family gives you a warm greeting, it’s Mack that can’t seem to look away.

You are still wearing one of Mack’s shirts, the slightly faded Sharks logo on the front, his name and number plastered across the back. Your pajama shorts are loose around your thighs, and you yawn as you hold your favorite mug in front of you. Coffee steams from the top, and Mack watches as you rub at your eye under your glasses.

He truly has no favorite version of you. Because everything about you is perfect to him. Whether it’s you in your scrubs after a shift, you dressed up for an event, you in comfy clothes as you help steal bits of whatever Will is baking. Mack does particularly love when you’re lying in his bed, with nothing covering your body as he kisses your skin. But right now? He might have a favorite version of you. You in his clothes, with your glasses on because it’s too early to put in contacts, while his mother pats the space next to her and you settle down like you’ve been here your whole life.

“Mack.”

But he doesn’t respond. Not as he watches you laugh at something his mom says, and watches as she throws the light blanket she has over her legs over yours as well.

“Macklin.”

“What?” He asks, finally turning his attention back to his dad and brothers.

“He’s being gross again.” RJ says to Aiden, and Mack tells him to shut it as Rick shakes his head at his sons.

“Let’s focus.” Rick says to Mack, who nods and begins with the resistance bands working on his shoulders and arms.

But his focus doesn’t stay on the exercise for long. Not as he spares another glance at you.

Your sleepy state hasn’t gone away, in fact, as you sit comfortably next to his mom, he can tell you’re moments from falling back asleep. But so can she, and she slips your mug out of your hands and lets you lean ever so slightly into her, as she too closes her eyes.

“Macklin, would you like to participate today?” Rick says, his eyes glancing between his wife and son’s girlfriend to his middle son.

“He can’t do anything around her.” RJ says again, clearly loving that his older brother is getting teased.

“Dude.” Macklin states, and tries his best to ignore the laughs.

So, in order to prove his brothers wrong, he manages to focus for a while, before letting himself get in a quick glance at you. But that’s when it happens. He pulls the band back at a funny angle, not fully paying attention to how much he’s moving his arm, and something tight and painful happens in his shoulder.

“Fuck.” Mack says, his face going tight as Rick’s eyes immediately snap worriedly to his son.

“Are you okay?” Rick asks, and Mack nods, trying to roll his shoulder in hopes that will help. He knows he didn’t do any serious damage, but the pain stays there as he sets the bands on the ground. “Are you sure?” Rick asks again, and Mack says he’s fine before finishing the workout for the morning.

—

By dinner you could tell something was a bit off with your boyfriend. He didn’t immediately jump into the water this afternoon like he normally does when the family parks the boat in the middle of the lake. He didn’t want to try to dunk RJ, and he made no move to pick you up and throw you off the boat with himself like he loves to do.

At first, you chalked it up as he was just tired. But the nurse in you watched his movements, cataloging them as he almost seemed to baby his left side. And if you knew anything about Mack, which of course you do after being with him for two years, it’s that if he’s injured he won’t say a thing. Aiden only offered a little crumb of evidence when you managed to stop him in the hallway that afternoon and asked him if Mack was okay during the workout this morning. But the eldest Celebrini only laughed as he told you, “I just think he was a bit distracted.”

So now, as Mack reaches for the salt shaker, you all freeze around the table as he hisses while reaching for it.

“Alright.” You say finally, deciding this has gone on long enough. “What happened?” You ask him, and you watch as Mack shrugs like he has no idea what you’re talking about.

But you know him better than that, so just before he can wrap his fingers around the shaker, you reach for it, and shove it back another foot.

Aiden and RJ look down immediately so they don’t laugh out loud, and Charlie lets out a laugh that she tries to pass off as a cough.

“Baby.” Mack says, giving you a pleading look.

“God.” RJ says with a sarcastic eye roll at the nickname Mack calls you.

“Grab it.” You say with a slight shrug, and Mack just bites at his lip because he knows you’ve caught on.

His family watches in silence as Mack extends a bit more for the salt, and he can’t stop the pained noise that comes out as he does.

“Got him.” Aiden says before shoving another potato into his mouth.

“Honey are you alright?” Robyn asks gently from her place across the table.

Mack nods, but then he looks at you. He can see the concern in your features, he knows exactly when you go into ‘nurse mode’ as he likes to call it. You get this calm look to you, even though beneath it you’re anything but calm.

“It’s really not a big deal.” He promises you, because truly he knows it’s not. It will bug him for a few days, and he’ll just make sure not to over extend his shoulder.

“Was it from this morning?” You ask.

“Yeah. Because someone can’t control himself around you.” RJ says, and you turn your gaze to your boyfriend’s little brother. The same little brother you normally join in teasing Mack, which is one of the many reasons RJ Celebrini welcomed you into the family as fast as he did. But you don’t join the teasing now, you wouldn’t until you know for a fact he’s okay.

“I’m going to throw you in the lake.” Mack says to his little brother.

And you force yourself to bite back your laugh as both of his parents scold him, but RJ responds with a, “good luck trying with that shoulder.”

“RJ.” Robyn says, and you can see the determination in Mack’s eyes as seriously debates it.

But then RJ laughs loudly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. And you ease up a bit as Macklin smiles as well, shaking his head at his brother.

“You should have her look at it.” Rick finally says, using his fork to point from you to Mack’s shoulder.

“I will.” You say, and pretend to focus back on your dinner even though you are still watching Mack’s every move.

—

“Okay off with it.” You say to your boyfriend, pointing at his shirt as you get him back in your guys bedroom.

Macklin lifts his brows, giving you a little smirk as you whack his chest.

“Not like that.” You say laughing, watching as he slowly strips himself of the black shirt.

“What if I’m really good?” He asks, turning so you can see his back. Your hands place down on his warm skin, and he jolts for a second before settling into your touch.

“If you’re really good you’ll let me do this and remember your entire family is downstairs.” You say, your voice going a little more grainy than you meant it.

“That didn’t stop you last night.” He says, and you have half the thought of smacking him again. But you look to his shoulder instead. The skin around it is slightly red, but you can tell that’s just from him rubbing at it.

“Sit down, Mackie.” You say, and you get on the bed behind him. He follows your lead, and your hands go to his shoulder and lightly press around it. “Does that hurt?” You ask, and he tenses only slightly before telling you it’s more uncomfortable than painful. “How about this?” You ask, pressing on it.

“Not bad.” He says, but you hesitate anyways. You run through different options in your head, the nurse in you fighting with the concerned girlfriend. “It’s okay baby, I promise.” He says, and that convinces you enough to start rubbing at it slowly.

You honestly don’t know how long you guys sit there. Mack’s head is hung down, and he lets out a little grunt every once in a while. But you stop when his shoulder finally feels normal. The muscle no longer tight or strained beneath your fingers.

“Thank you.” He says so softly you almost miss it.

“Hold on, I’m not done quite yet.” You say, just wanting to check his mobility just to be sure.

He squints slightly at you, trying to read your face.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks, watching as your eyes roam over his collar bone and chest.

“Stand up for a second.” You say, and he follows your direction instantly.

You reach out for his arm, pulling it slightly one way, and then the next. You don’t see any movement you shouldn’t, and Macklin makes no noise of pain. Your hands continue to slide over his bare chest and arms, and at one point you catch him biting back a smirk.

You eye him in a teasing yet scolding way as you continue. You have him push his shoulder backwards, then push forward against your palm. But as you go to move your hand, the tips of your nails drag slightly down the expensive of his bicep and chest. Mack’s entire body shivers, and like he can no longer contain himself he reaches for you, pulling you closely into his space.

His green eyes are dark, and his cheeks hold just a hint of pink.

“Macklin.” You say, trying to be stern and as nurse like as possible.

“What?” He asks, unable to hide it now.

“I’m trying to help you!” You exclaim, laughing at him.

“I can’t help it when your hands are all over me.”

“This is medical!”

“But it’s you, baby.” He says, and you only shake your head. He smirks again before pulling you further into him. Your hands land on his chest as you instantly look up at him.

“Mack.” You say, your tone changing from the calm nurse to something else entirely. But he takes your chin in his hand, moving your face up and to the right as, his lips trail a line of soft kisses up and down your neck. “You’re unbelievable.” You say, but it comes out in almost a whisper.

“You took care of me, now it’s my turn to take care of you.” He says, and just by his words alone he let out a groan. Like he can’t possibly wait any longer than he has. Not as he can see the need in your eyes, not as your finger trails around his pecs.

“Your family-“ You start to say, but you’re glad Macklin doesn’t take your words seriously. Instead, he takes one of his hands, and covers your mouth, leaning to your ear and whispering,

As much as Macklin loves seeing his family in the summer, he doesn’t always love waking up at the ass crack of dawn to do workouts with this father and brothers. Not when it means leaving you behind in bed. Especially not when he wants nothing more than to stay wrapped protectively around you, breathing in the familiar scent of your favorite lotion.

“Go back to bed, baby.” Macklin whispers, kissing your temple as you subconsciously shift to his now empty side of the bed. You snuggle your face into his pillow, and Mack tucks the blankets firmly around you. And as much as Mack wants to tell his father he’s skipping it today, he knows he can’t. So against everything he wants, he turns away from you, and goes outside to meet with his dad and brothers.

So, by 7am, all of the Celebrini men found themselves outside. A thin layer of sweat coats Mack’s spine as he reaches down for the resistance band.

RJ groans as he starts, and Robyn looks up from the rim of her sunglasses, watching as her youngest son gripes about being tired. Aiden stays relatively quiet like he normally does during work outs, and today so does Mack. Because his mind is somewhere else, on someone else.

But before Rick can say anything to his sons, everyone’s attention moves to the sliding door as it opens.

You step out, and while his family gives you a warm greeting, it’s Mack that can’t seem to look away.

You are still wearing one of Mack’s shirts, the slightly faded Sharks logo on the front, his name and number plastered across the back. Your pajama shorts are loose around your thighs, and you yawn as you hold your favorite mug in front of you. Coffee steams from the top, and Mack watches as you rub at your eye under your glasses.

He truly has no favorite version of you. Because everything about you is perfect to him. Whether it’s you in your scrubs after a shift, you dressed up for an event, you in comfy clothes as you help steal bits of whatever Will is baking. Mack does particularly love when you’re lying in his bed, with nothing covering your body as he kisses your skin. But right now? He might have a favorite version of you. You in his clothes, with your glasses on because it’s too early to put in contacts, while his mother pats the space next to her and you settle down like you’ve been here your whole life.

“Mack.”

But he doesn’t respond. Not as he watches you laugh at something his mom says, and watches as she throws the light blanket she has over her legs over yours as well.

“Macklin.”

“What?” He asks, finally turning his attention back to his dad and brothers.

“He’s being gross again.” RJ says to Aiden, and Mack tells him to shut it as Rick shakes his head at his sons.

“Let’s focus.” Rick says to Mack, who nods and begins with the resistance bands working on his shoulders and arms.

But his focus doesn’t stay on the exercise for long. Not as he spares another glance at you.

Your sleepy state hasn’t gone away, in fact, as you sit comfortably next to his mom, he can tell you’re moments from falling back asleep. But so can she, and she slips your mug out of your hands and lets you lean ever so slightly into her, as she too closes her eyes.

“Macklin, would you like to participate today?” Rick says, his eyes glancing between his wife and son’s girlfriend to his middle son.

“He can’t do anything around her.” RJ says again, clearly loving that his older brother is getting teased.

“Dude.” Macklin states, and tries his best to ignore the laughs.

So, in order to prove his brothers wrong, he manages to focus for a while, before letting himself get in a quick glance at you. But that’s when it happens. He pulls the band back at a funny angle, not fully paying attention to how much he’s moving his arm, and something tight and painful happens in his shoulder.

“Fuck.” Mack says, his face going tight as Rick’s eyes immediately snap worriedly to his son.

“Are you okay?” Rick asks, and Mack nods, trying to roll his shoulder in hopes that will help. He knows he didn’t do any serious damage, but the pain stays there as he sets the bands on the ground. “Are you sure?” Rick asks again, and Mack says he’s fine before finishing the workout for the morning.

—

By dinner you could tell something was a bit off with your boyfriend. He didn’t immediately jump into the water this afternoon like he normally does when the family parks the boat in the middle of the lake. He didn’t want to try to dunk RJ, and he made no move to pick you up and throw you off the boat with himself like he loves to do.

At first, you chalked it up as he was just tired. But the nurse in you watched his movements, cataloging them as he almost seemed to baby his left side. And if you knew anything about Mack, which of course you do after being with him for two years, it’s that if he’s injured he won’t say a thing. Aiden only offered a little crumb of evidence when you managed to stop him in the hallway that afternoon and asked him if Mack was okay during the workout this morning. But the eldest Celebrini only laughed as he told you, “I just think he was a bit distracted.”

So now, as Mack reaches for the salt shaker, you all freeze around the table as he hisses while reaching for it.

“Alright.” You say finally, deciding this has gone on long enough. “What happened?” You ask him, and you watch as Mack shrugs like he has no idea what you’re talking about.

But you know him better than that, so just before he can wrap his fingers around the shaker, you reach for it, and shove it back another foot.

Aiden and RJ look down immediately so they don’t laugh out loud, and Charlie lets out a laugh that she tries to pass off as a cough.

“Baby.” Mack says, giving you a pleading look.

“God.” RJ says with a sarcastic eye roll at the nickname Mack calls you.

“Grab it.” You say with a slight shrug, and Mack just bites at his lip because he knows you’ve caught on.

His family watches in silence as Mack extends a bit more for the salt, and he can’t stop the pained noise that comes out as he does.

“Got him.” Aiden says before shoving another potato into his mouth.

“Honey are you alright?” Robyn asks gently from her place across the table.

Mack nods, but then he looks at you. He can see the concern in your features, he knows exactly when you go into ‘nurse mode’ as he likes to call it. You get this calm look to you, even though beneath it you’re anything but calm.

“It’s really not a big deal.” He promises you, because truly he knows it’s not. It will bug him for a few days, and he’ll just make sure not to over extend his shoulder.

“Was it from this morning?” You ask.

“Yeah. Because someone can’t control himself around you.” RJ says, and you turn your gaze to your boyfriend’s little brother. The same little brother you normally join in teasing Mack, which is one of the many reasons RJ Celebrini welcomed you into the family as fast as he did. But you don’t join the teasing now, you wouldn’t until you know for a fact he’s okay.

“I’m going to throw you in the lake.” Mack says to his little brother.

And you force yourself to bite back your laugh as both of his parents scold him, but RJ responds with a, “good luck trying with that shoulder.”

“RJ.” Robyn says, and you can see the determination in Mack’s eyes as seriously debates it.

But then RJ laughs loudly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. And you ease up a bit as Macklin smiles as well, shaking his head at his brother.

“You should have her look at it.” Rick finally says, using his fork to point from you to Mack’s shoulder.

“I will.” You say, and pretend to focus back on your dinner even though you are still watching Mack’s every move.

—

“Okay off with it.” You say to your boyfriend, pointing at his shirt as you get him back in your guys bedroom.

Macklin lifts his brows, giving you a little smirk as you whack his chest.

“Not like that.” You say laughing, watching as he slowly strips himself of the black shirt.

“What if I’m really good?” He asks, turning so you can see his back. Your hands place down on his warm skin, and he jolts for a second before settling into your touch.

“If you’re really good you’ll let me do this and remember your entire family is downstairs.” You say, your voice going a little more grainy than you meant it.

“That didn’t stop you last night.” He says, and you have half the thought of smacking him again. But you look to his shoulder instead. The skin around it is slightly red, but you can tell that’s just from him rubbing at it.

“Sit down, Mackie.” You say, and you get on the bed behind him. He follows your lead, and your hands go to his shoulder and lightly press around it. “Does that hurt?” You ask, and he tenses only slightly before telling you it’s more uncomfortable than painful. “How about this?” You ask, pressing on it.

“Not bad.” He says, but you hesitate anyways. You run through different options in your head, the nurse in you fighting with the concerned girlfriend. “It’s okay baby, I promise.” He says, and that convinces you enough to start rubbing at it slowly.

You honestly don’t know how long you guys sit there. Mack’s head is hung down, and he lets out a little grunt every once in a while. But you stop when his shoulder finally feels normal. The muscle no longer tight or strained beneath your fingers.

“Thank you.” He says so softly you almost miss it.

“Hold on, I’m not done quite yet.” You say, just wanting to check his mobility just to be sure.

He squints slightly at you, trying to read your face.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks, watching as your eyes roam over his collar bone and chest.

“Stand up for a second.” You say, and he follows your direction instantly.

You reach out for his arm, pulling it slightly one way, and then the next. You don’t see any movement you shouldn’t, and Macklin makes no noise of pain. Your hands continue to slide over his bare chest and arms, and at one point you catch him biting back a smirk.

You eye him in a teasing yet scolding way as you continue. You have him push his shoulder backwards, then push forward against your palm. But as you go to move your hand, the tips of your nails drag slightly down the expensive of his bicep and chest. Mack’s entire body shivers, and like he can no longer contain himself he reaches for you, pulling you closely into his space.

His green eyes are dark, and his cheeks hold just a hint of pink.

“Macklin.” You say, trying to be stern and as nurse like as possible.

“What?” He asks, unable to hide it now.

“I’m trying to help you!” You exclaim, laughing at him.

“I can’t help it when your hands are all over me.”

“This is medical!”

“But it’s you, baby.” He says, and you only shake your head. He smirks again before pulling you further into him. Your hands land on his chest as you instantly look up at him.

“Mack.” You say, your tone changing from the calm nurse to something else entirely. But he takes your chin in his hand, moving your face up and to the right as, his lips trail a line of soft kisses up and down your neck. “You’re unbelievable.” You say, but it comes out in almost a whisper.

“You took care of me, now it’s my turn to take care of you.” He says, and just by his words alone he let out a groan. Like he can’t possibly wait any longer than he has. Not as he can see the need in your eyes, not as your finger trails around his pecs.

“Your family-“ You start to say, but you’re glad Macklin doesn’t take your words seriously. Instead, he takes one of his hands, and covers your mouth, leaning to your ear and whispering,

The streetlights blur past as Will drives, his hand warm and possessive on your thigh. You're all still buzzing from the team dinner, from too much wine, too much laughter and too many stolen glances across the table that made your skin flush.

Macklin's been quiet in the backseat for the last fifteen minutes, his head lolling against the window as the soft music from the stereo fills the car.

Will's thumb traces circles on your thigh, higher than usual but still innocent enough. You glance at him, finding his eyes already on you in the dim dashboard light.

"Been thinking about fucking your brains out ever since you put on that dress," Will murmurs, his voice low enough not to carry to the backseat. His hand slides higher, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. "You look so damn beautiful."

Your breath catches as his fingers brush against the edge of your panties. "Will," you whisper, trying to press your legs together. "Mack's right there."

"Shh," Will says, his fingers tracing the lacy edge of your underwear. "He's sleeping. Besides," he leans closer, his voice dropping even lower, "I've been hard for you all through dinner. Could barely focus on what Coach was saying. Needed you then, need you now."

His fingers move to trace the shape of you through the damp fabric and you gasp softly as he finds your clit, tapping it lightly through your panties. The sensation is maddeningly light, just enough pressure to make you want more but not nearly enough to satisfy the ache building inside you.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his thumb continuing to flick that sensitive bundle of nerves through the thin fabric. He presses down slightly and the material instantly dampens beneath his touch, soaking through with your arousal.

"Already so wet for me," he breathes, a note of awe in his voice as he feels the evidence of your desire. "Been thinking about me, baby?" His fingers trace the wet patch, spreading the moisture, making the fabric cling to your swollen lips as he marvels at how quickly he's affected you.

You can only nod, biting your lip as he slowly begins to rub circles around your clit. Each circle is agonizingly slow, designed to drive you to the edge of insanity without ever letting you fall over.

"Will, please," you whimper, your hips shifting unconsciously, seeking more friction.

"Please, what?" he asks, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "Tell me what you want me to do. Ask for it properly."

"You know what I want," you breathe out, your hands gripping the edge of your seat.

"I want to hear you say it," he insists, his fingers stilling their movements. "Tell me how badly you need my fingers inside you. Tell me how much you want me to finger fuck your little pussy while my best friend's sleeping in the backseat."

"Will," you protest, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment even as your body throbs with need.

"Say it," he commands softly, his free hand moving to cup your cheek. "Or I'll keep teasing you like this all the way home."

The threat is real and you know he'll follow through. "I need your fingers inside me," you whisper, the words feeling foreign and incredibly intimate in the quiet car. "Please, Will."

"Good girl," he praises, finally sliding his fingers beneath the elastic of your panties. The first touch of his skin against yours makes you gasp, your back arching slightly as he explores your folds.

"So fucking wet," he murmurs, collecting your arousal on his fingertips before bringing them to his lips for a taste. "And you taste so good too."

Your face burns at his words, but your body responds with another gush of wetness, betraying how much his words affect you. Will notices, of course and smirks as he slides one finger inside you.

The stretch is delicious and you have to fight the urge to moan as he begins to slowly pump his finger in and out of you. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that match the rhythm of his finger.

"You like that, don't you?" he asks, his voice low and husky. "Like my finger inside you while Mack sleeps just a few feet away."

You nod, your eyes fluttering closed as he adds a second finger, the stretch making you shudder. His fingers are skilled, knowing exactly how to curl inside you to hit that spot that makes you let out these tiny pathetic whimpers.

"Stay quiet for me," he reminds you, his fingers moving faster, deeper. "Can't wake up Mack, can we?"

The soft music from the stereo isn't enough to cover the sounds your body is making, the wet sounds of his fingers moving inside you, your soft gasps and whimpers. Your legs are shaking now, trembling with the effort to stay still and quiet.

"Will," you breathe out, your hand reaching out to grip his arm, needing something to hold onto as the pleasure builds.

"That's it," he encourages, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Let go for me, baby. Come on my fingers."

You're close, so close and you can feel the tension coiling in your stomach. Will speeds up his movements, his fingers pumping in and out of you faster, harder, deeper than before. Your hips begin to move unconsciously, fucking his fingers as you chase your release.

"Such a greedy girl," he teases, his voice strained with his own arousal. "Can't get enough, can you? Fucking my fingers while Mack could wake up any second now. You like knowing that he could wake up? That he could see how well your pussy's gripping my fingers?"

The thought of Mack seeing you like this should embarrass you, but instead it sends another wave of arousal through you and you can feel yourself clenching around his fingers. Will notices and smirks as he curls his fingers just right, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"Right there, isn't it?" he asks, his fingers stroking that spot again and again.

You can only nod, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you try to stifle the moans threatening to escape. Your grip on his arm tightens, your knuckles white with the force of it as your legs begin to shake uncontrollably.

"Let go for me," he commands, his voice low and demanding. "I want to feel you come on my fingers. Now."

The command is all it takes and you're coming, your body arching as waves of pleasure wash over you. A loud moan escapes your lips before you can stop it and you clamp a hand over your mouth, but it's too late.

"What was that?" Macklin's voice is thick with sleep from the backseat.

Panic floods your system as Will quickly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean. You're a blushing mess, fumbling with your dress as Macklin sits up.

"Sounded like someone moaning," he says, rubbing his eyes.

"Just a dream, man," Will says smoothly, his hand back on your thigh as if nothing happened. "Go back to sleep."

The book lies open in your lap, words blurring into meaningless shapes as your mind drifts. You're curled up in Will's bed, surrounded by his scent, but it's the memory of his body that's really consuming you.

The past few months have transformed him in ways that make your mouth water and your core clench. The extra hours at the gym, the heavy lifting, it's all paying off in ways that drive you absolutely insane.

His arms have thickened, biceps bulging with the slightest movement. His back has broadened, creating that delicious V-shape that makes you want to trace the lines with your tongue. Even his thighs, which were already pretty sculpted from hockey, have become even more defined.

Every time he walks around in those ridiculously short Lululemon shorts, you have to physically stop yourself from staring. When he's shirtless, which seems to be more often now, it's even worse. The way his abs flex when he stretches, the beads of sweat trickling down his chest... it's almost too much to handle and it got you drooling like an absolute idiot.

"Hey, I'm back!" Will calls from the hallway. "Just going to shower real quick, then I'll join you."

You hear the water start and you try to refocus on your book, but your mind is already racing with images of him wet, naked in the shower.

When he emerges, you nearly drop your book. He's wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips, revealing the sharp lines of his Adonis belt. His hair is damp, curls falling across his forehead. As he rubs the towel over his head, his abs ripple and his biceps bulge, the muscles in his back shifting beneath his skin.

It's also painfully obvious he's not wearing anything underneath those sweats and the thought alone makes you wet.

"Ready for some cuddle time?" he asks, tossing the towel onto a chair and climbing into bed.

You nod, trying to appear casual as he pulls you against his chest. He shifts, pulling you on top of him so you're lying flush against his body.

"How was your day?" he asks, his fingers combing through your hair.

Your hands rest on his broad shoulders and you can't help but trace the defined muscles of his forearms. His veins are prominent, trailing down to his large hands and you find yourself mesmerized by them.

"Fine," you manage, your voice slightly breathless.

You shift against him, restless, your thighs clenching together as a wave of arousal washes over you. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent, hoping that will erase the unholy thoughts from your mind.

"Everything okay?" he asks, a note of concern in his voice.

You don't know how to answer that, so you just press a soft kiss against his neck.

Will's hands begin to roam your body. "You seem a little distracted," he murmurs, a teasing edge to his voice. "Want to tell me something?"

"I just... you've been looking a bit too good lately," you admit, your cheeks flushing.

He chuckles, a low, cocky sound. "Oh yeah? Noticed the extra hours at the gym, did you?"

You playfully roll your eyes at him. "You shouldn't be this cocky about it."

But he's not listening. He shifts beneath you, his hands moving from your waist to grip your hips, encouraging you to sit up. You move without protest, straddling his lap, the thin material of your shorts and his sweats doing little to dull the heat radiating between you. His bulge presses insistently against your core and you can't help the way your hips twitch in response.

"Go on then," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "Show me how much this body's been distracting you."

You bite your lip, hesitating for only a moment before giving in. You start to move, slowly at first, rocking your hips against his. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through your veins. Each roll of your hips drags your clothed pussy along the length of his cock and you can feel him growing harder beneath you.

"Fuck, Will," you breathe out, your hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders.

"Yeah, just like that," he groans, his head falling back against the pillows. His eyes are half-lidded, watching you through his lashes and the sight alone makes you wetter. He looks so beautiful underneath you.

You move against him a little faster, every movement fueled by fucked out look in his eyes. Your movements become more erratic as pleasure builds within you.

"Look at you, baby," he murmurs, his hands tightening on your hips. "So desperate for it. Does it feel good? Grinding against my cock like the greedy little thing you are?"

You can only whimper in response, too lost in sensation to form coherent words. Your breaths come in short, sharp pants, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

"You gonna come just from this?" he asks, a smirk playing at his lips. "Just from rubbing your little pussy all over my cock?"

His filthy words send you closer to the edge and you can feel your climax approaching. But just as you're about to tumble over the edge, his hands still your hips, holding you in place. You whine in protest, your body trembling with need.

"No, no, no," you whimper, tears pricking at your eyes. "Please, I was this close."

"Be patient, baby," he murmurs, but you're having none of it.

Your hand slides down between your bodies, palm pressing firmly against the hard ridge straining against his sweats. Will's breath hitches, his hips bucking involuntarily as you trace his length through the fabric. You can feel him twitch beneath your touch, can feel the heat radiating through the thin material.

"Fuck," he groans, his head falling back against the pillows. "You're playing with fire, baby."

"Good thing I'm not scared of getting burned," you retort, your fingers curling around him. You stroke him slowly, feeling him grow even harder in your palm.

With a smirk, you shift back, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweats. You tug them down slowly, revealing inch after inch of his flushed skin. His cock springs free, hard and thick, glistening with pre-come, the tip an angry pink.

You lean in, pressing your lips against his stomach. You trail kisses downward, your tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin. You pay special attention to his hips, your teeth grazing the sharp line of his hip bone, making him hiss. But it's his thighs that really captivate you. His thick and muscular thighs, which have been on your mind a little too much lately. You worship them with your mouth, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, feeling the muscles tremble beneath your touch.

"Fuck, stop teasing," he groans, his hands tangling in your hair.

You look up at him through your lashes, a wicked glint in your eyes. "Or what?" you challenge, before finally taking pity on him.

You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head. You hollow your cheeks, sucking gently and he groans, his hips jerking forward.

"God, your mouth," he breathes out, his fingers tightening in your hair.

You take him deeper, your lips stretching around his girth. You can feel the way his muscles tense as he resists the urge to push you further down, the way his stomach clenches with every flick of your tongue. You dig your nails into his thighs, leaving faint red marks in your wake and he groans, the sound vibrating through his entire body.

You pay special attention to the vein on the underside of his cock, your tongue tracing the raised ridge. He whimpers, his hips stuttering and you know you're driving him crazy. You suck harder, your head bobbing faster, taking him deeper until he hits the back of your throat.

"Fuck, I'm gonna..." he starts, but you pull away before he can finish.

"What the fuck?" he groans, his eyes flying open. "Don't stop, I was so close."

You smirk, crawling back up his body until you're straddling his hips again. "You didn't let me come," you remind him, your voice low and husky. "So now I won't let you come. It's as easy as that, baby."

Your smirk is still playing on your lips when Will moves. One second you're straddling his hips and the next you're on your back, the air knocked from your lungs as he flips you with an effortless strength that makes your head spin.

Hes above you now, caging you in, his arms bracketing your head as he holds himself over you. The muscles in his biceps and shoulders ripple and tense and the sight of him above you is so fucking sexy it makes your pussy clench with need.

"Think you're clever?" he growls. Before you can answer, his mouth is on yours in a punishing kiss. He bites your lower lip, soothing the sting with his tongue and you melt into it, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair.

He breaks the kiss, panting slightly and shifts his hips. You feel the hot, heavy length of his cock sliding through your slick folds. He coats himself in your wetness, the head bumping against your clit with every pass, making you whimper and arch against him.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice dripping with condescension as he looks down at you. "All spread out underneath me. You look so much smaller like this." He punctuates his words with another drag of his cock against your entrance. "Did all that time in the gym make me too big for you, baby?"

The mocking tone, combined with his relentless teasing, only makes you want him more. So you take matters into your own hands. You wrap your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles together at the small of his back and pull him down, using all your strength to hopefully get what you've been craving all along.

He gives a dark chuckle against your lips. "So eager," he whispers and then he's pushing into you.

He enters you slowly, inch by agonizing inch. It's a torturous pace that allows you to feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as your walls stretch and flutter to accommodate him. He doesn't stop until he's buried to the hilt, his hips flush against yours.

He stills then, deep inside you and you can feel him pulsing, can feel the way your body clenches around him, trying to pull him deeper.

He loves it. You can tell by the smug look on his face. He loves watching you struggle to take him, loves how desperate you are for his cock.

"Please, Will," you whine, trying to rock your hips to encourage him to move. "Please, move."

"Please, Will" he mock, mimicking your pleading tone. Then he pulls out almost completely, leaving just the tip inside you. You feel so empty you're about to start begging again when he slams back into you. Hard.

The force of his thrust steals your breath and stops the sassy retort that was forming on your tongue. He sets a punishing rhythm, pounding you into the mattress, his hips snapping against yours with a force that has the bedframe slamming against the wall.

It's exactly what you needed, exactly what you were craving and you can't do anything but take it. You don't want to do anything but take it.

"Fuck, yes," you moan, your head thrown back. "Just like that. You feel so good, Will. So fucking deep. You're so... oh my god... you're so big."

Your praise seems to spur him on. He groans, his movements becoming more erratic. Your hands slide down his back, your nails digging into his sweat-slicked skin and you can feel the muscles rippling beneath your touch with every thrust.

"I need you come for me, baby," he growls, his voice strained. "Come all over my cock"

The knot in your stomach tightens until it finally snaps, pleasure crashing through you so hard your vision turns white. Your back arches off the bed, pressing your chest flush against Will's as a broken moan tears from your throat. Your thighs clamp around his hips, your body locking up around him as he continues to fuck you through it.

you’ve been locked away in your apartment the past few days studying for a final.

every available surface in your living room has slowly disappeared beneath stacks of notes, color-coded flashcards, and half-finished cups of coffee that have gone cold hours ago. your laptop has been open for so long that the screen brightness seems permanently burned into your vision, and you’re fairly certain you’ve spent more time staring at diagrams this week than you have at actual people.

you’ve spent the last three days rotating between your desk, your couch, and your kitchen solely for the purpose of obtaining more caffeine. your final exam is later this week, and despite the fact that you’ve studied enough material to teach the course yourself, you still felt wildly underprepared.

your phone has been buzzing on the coffee table for the last 5 minutes, and you already know exactly who it is without looking, because only one person texts you with this much consistency and this little regard for whether or not you're busy.

you don't even bother responding to that one, because you know better, and you go back to your flashcards fully intending to ignore him into submission. it doesn't work. it never works.

barely a minute passes before there's a knock at your door, quick and eager, the evening light already gone gold and heavy through your blinds. you're not even surprised — just resigned, sighing as you push yourself up from the couch and shuffle over to let him in, because you know if you don't, he'll just stand out there knocking until you do.

you pull the door open, already giving him a look. "you didn't even wait for me to say no."

macklin is standing there in one of his ratty hoodies, his floppy brown hair falling into his eyes, still slightly dark and damp like he just showered, and when he grins at you it's that lopsided, gummy smile of his — the one that shows a little too much gum and somehow still manages to be the most endearing thing you've ever seen. his green eyes are shining, body practically vibrating with the effort of looking casual as if he wasn’t dying to be within a 2 feet radius of you. "you didn't say no," he points out. "you said nothing. very different."

"macklin."

"hi sweet girl." he's already stepping past you into the apartment before you can fully commit to being annoyed, toeing off his shoes at the door like this was always the plan, like there was never a version of tonight where he wasn't ending up on your couch. "i won't stay long. i just wanted to see you for a second."

you shut the door behind him, mostly because there's no point doing anything else at this point, and follow him back into the living room, stepping over a stack of notes on your way. "i told you i couldn't come over," you remind him, dropping back down onto the couch beside your laptop.

"i know. so i came here instead." he says this like it's the most logical solution in the world, like it wasn't the exact outcome you were trying to avoid by not answering his texts, already making himself comfortable in the small space you'd left open on the cushion. "problem solved."

"that's not- i'm studying," you say, gesturing vaguely at the wreckage of flashcards and cold coffee mugs surrounding you, as if the evidence needs pointing out.

"i know, i know. you're studying." he makes a beeline for your couch anyway, dropping down and immediately looking around at the chaos like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, picking up a stray flashcard and turning it over in his hands. "whoa. okay. this is a lot of flashcards."

"i have a final in three days," you say, not looking up as you flip to the next page of your notes.

"i know, you texted me." he says it fondly, not accusingly, already reaching for one of your color-coded stacks and flipping through them like he's trying to memorize the color system himself. "can i quiz you?"

you glance over at him with an eyebrow raised/ “you don’t know anything about organic chemistry, you only finished one year of college.”

"i know how to read, i’m not that stupid." he flips one over anyway, squinting at it like it's written in a foreign language, which, to him, it basically is, sounding out each syllable slowly. "what's... nucleo... nucleophilic substitution?"

you sigh, but it's not really an annoyed sigh — it's the sigh of someone who has known this man for almost a year and has never once successfully told him no, not on the phone, and apparently not at the door either. "it's a reaction where a nucleophile replaces a leaving group in a molecule," you recite without even having to think about it.

"see, you knew that." he beams up at you, tossing the flashcard back onto the pile with the satisfaction of someone who just personally solved organic chemistry. "you're gonna crush this final."

"that's one out of," you wave a hand to the unorganized stack of cards laid out. "hundreds of vocab i have to go through."

"you'll get there." he shuffles closer on the couch, tucking himself against your side with the ease of someone who has claimed this exact spot a hundred times before, resting his head against your shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. "i'll be very still. i'm basically furniture."

"you are not furniture," you say, trying and failing to sound stern.

"i'm like a teddy bear," he counters, and you can hear the grin in his voice even without looking at him.

you try to keep studying. you really do. but macklin has this way of existing near you that makes it genuinely difficult to focus — not because he's loud, though he can be, but because he's warm, and solid, and smells like your shampoo because he apparently can't be bothered to buy his own, and every few minutes he presses a kiss to the top of your head like it's an automatic function of his body that he has no control over.

you’ve been trying to concentrate for the past ten minutes now, but every minute or so macklin would interrupt your thoughts. touching your face ("there's an eyelash on your cheek, hold on.."), playing with your school supplies ("since when did you get these fancy pens?"), or just finding random excuses to bother you ("do you know what time it is?" "macklin. your phone is right there.") were just some of the things he was doing, all with the restless, bright-eyed energy of something that's been cooped up inside all day and finally let out into a big backyard.

after the fifth or sixth interruption, you finally set your pen down and turn to look at him properly, giving him the most unimpressed expression you can manage. "puppy. you said you wouldn't bother me," you remind him, and the nickname does something visible to him. his ears go pink almost instantly, and he ducks his head like he's trying to hide the way his whole face lights up at it.

"i'm not-" he starts, voice a little higher than usual, clearing his throat before he tries again, pressing his face further into your hair as if that'll hide the blush. "i'm not bothering you. i'm being supportive," he insists...

"you've kissed my head four times in the last ten minutes," you point out, counting on your fingers for emphasis, though you're fighting a smile the entire time you say it.

"five," he corrects easily, and presses his lips to the crown of your head once more, slow and deliberate, just to prove his point and pad the count in his favor.

you swat at him half-heartedly, more reflex than actual protest, but you don't actually move away, and he knows you don't actually mean it, because he settles in even closer, resting his chin on your shoulder so he can watch you highlight your notes like it's the most interesting television program available, his floppy hair tickling against your cheek every time he shifts.

the sun has been sinking lower this whole time, slipping through the gap in your blinds until it lands right across your face in a thin gold stripe, warm and soft against your skin. you don't notice it. you're too busy underlining a definition for the third time, like repetition alone will make it stick.

macklin notices.

he goes quiet in a way that's different from his usual quiet. not bored, not restless, just still, watching you with his chin propped on your shoulder like he's forgotten what he was going to say. you don't catch it at first, too deep in your notes, until you feel his gaze more than see it, heavy and unmoving on the side of your face, and you finally glance over at him, brow furrowed in question. "what?" you ask.

"nothing." he says it too quickly, glancing away for half a second before his eyes settle right back on you, and when he speaks again his voice has dropped into something quieter, more careful, like it slipped out before he could decide whether to say it at all. "you know, you look pretty right now."

you blink, caught off guard enough that it takes you a second to respond, already reaching up to touch your own messy hair self-consciously. "i've been awake for-"

"i know. still pretty." he says it so plainly, like it's just a fact of the room, like the light and the mess and the three-day-old ponytail have nothing to do with it, reaching up to brush his thumb along your cheekbone, following the gold stripe of sun like he's tracing it on purpose. "the light's doing this thing. right here. you should study in the evening more often."

"macklin, that's not-" you start, already flustered, already trying to wave it off with some half-formed argument about proper lighting and eye strain, but you don't get the chance to finish it, because he leans in and kisses you before the sentence even has anywhere to go.

it's slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that doesn't ask for anything except for you to stop talking for a second. your highlighter is still loose in your hand, and for a moment there's no final, no flashcards, no more chapters — just the warmth of the evening light and the warmth of him, close and familiar and endlessly patient in a way he pretends not to be.

when he finally pulls back, just barely, his forehead resting against yours, his hair brushing against your skin, he's smiling like he won something.

"that wasn't fair," you mumble, still a little dazed, your fingers curling loosely into the front of his hoodie without you quite meaning for them to.

"i know," he says, not sorry at all, thumb still resting against your cheek like he isn't in any hurry to let go of the moment. "you're gonna crush your final."

"you're impossible," you tell him, though it comes out fond, and he just grins wider like it's the nicest thing you've ever called him.

"i'm in love with you. slightly different." he presses one more kiss to the corner of your mouth, quick and pleased with himself, before finally leaning back into the couch cushions, looking entirely too satisfied with the whole exchange. after a while, once the quiet has settled comfortably between you again, he speaks up, voice quieter now, almost testing the waters. "you know, you could take a break. just for like ten minutes."

"i really can't. i have so much left," you say, though your resolve is noticeably weaker than it was twenty minutes ago.

"i'll make you tea," he offers, already halfway to standing, like the matter is basically decided.

"macklin no–” you start to protest, but he cuts you off before you can build any real momentum.

"i'll make you tea and i'll sit here and be silent and i will not distract you even a little bit, i promise, i just." he pauses mid-sentence, and when you glance over at him there's something almost sheepish in his expression, like he's embarrassed by his own honesty, his hand rubbing absently at the back of his neck. "i missed you. you've been in here for three days. i live right there." he points vaguely in the direction of his own apartment, as if you don't know exactly where it is, as if you haven't spent countless nights there yourself. "it's weird not seeing you."

your heart does the thing it always does when he says stuff like this. soft and a little dumb and completely unguarded, like it never occurs to him to be anything other than exactly, embarrassingly honest about how much he likes you.

you set your highlighter down, finally, and give him a small nod. "okay. ten minutes."

his whole face lights up like you've just told him christmas came early, already popping up off the couch, way too pleased with himself for someone who negotiated basically nothing. "ten minutes," he agrees, backing toward the kitchen as he points at you like he's issuing a formal warning. "i'm gonna make the tea. don't look at your notes while i'm gone, that's cheating."

"that's not how breaks work!" you call after him, though you're already leaning back into the couch cushions.

he ignore you. you hear him opening cabinets he definitely doesn't need to open, just to make noise, just to fill the space, just because he likes being useful to you.

you lean back against the couch cushions and let yourself actually rest for the first time in days, the last of the sunset fading into something dimmer and darker outside the window, listening to him hum something off-key while the kettle heats up, and you think, not for the first time, that you don't really mind being bothered. not by him.

when he comes back with two mugs and immediately curls back into your side, declaring the ten minutes "officially started," you don’t even mind one bit.

you’ve been locked away in your apartment the past few days studying for a final.

every available surface in your living room has slowly disappeared beneath stacks of notes, color-coded flashcards, and half-finished cups of coffee that have gone cold hours ago. your laptop has been open for so long that the screen brightness seems permanently burned into your vision, and you’re fairly certain you’ve spent more time staring at diagrams this week than you have at actual people.

you’ve spent the last three days rotating between your desk, your couch, and your kitchen solely for the purpose of obtaining more caffeine. your final exam is later this week, and despite the fact that you’ve studied enough material to teach the course yourself, you still felt wildly underprepared.

your phone has been buzzing on the coffee table for the last 5 minutes, and you already know exactly who it is without looking, because only one person texts you with this much consistency and this little regard for whether or not you're busy.

you don't even bother responding to that one, because you know better, and you go back to your flashcards fully intending to ignore him into submission. it doesn't work. it never works.

barely a minute passes before there's a knock at your door, quick and eager, the evening light already gone gold and heavy through your blinds. you're not even surprised — just resigned, sighing as you push yourself up from the couch and shuffle over to let him in, because you know if you don't, he'll just stand out there knocking until you do.

you pull the door open, already giving him a look. "you didn't even wait for me to say no."

macklin is standing there in one of his ratty hoodies, his floppy brown hair falling into his eyes, still slightly dark and damp like he just showered, and when he grins at you it's that lopsided, gummy smile of his — the one that shows a little too much gum and somehow still manages to be the most endearing thing you've ever seen. his green eyes are shining, body practically vibrating with the effort of looking casual as if he wasn’t dying to be within a 2 feet radius of you. "you didn't say no," he points out. "you said nothing. very different."

"macklin."

"hi sweet girl." he's already stepping past you into the apartment before you can fully commit to being annoyed, toeing off his shoes at the door like this was always the plan, like there was never a version of tonight where he wasn't ending up on your couch. "i won't stay long. i just wanted to see you for a second."

you shut the door behind him, mostly because there's no point doing anything else at this point, and follow him back into the living room, stepping over a stack of notes on your way. "i told you i couldn't come over," you remind him, dropping back down onto the couch beside your laptop.

"i know. so i came here instead." he says this like it's the most logical solution in the world, like it wasn't the exact outcome you were trying to avoid by not answering his texts, already making himself comfortable in the small space you'd left open on the cushion. "problem solved."

"that's not- i'm studying," you say, gesturing vaguely at the wreckage of flashcards and cold coffee mugs surrounding you, as if the evidence needs pointing out.

"i know, i know. you're studying." he makes a beeline for your couch anyway, dropping down and immediately looking around at the chaos like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, picking up a stray flashcard and turning it over in his hands. "whoa. okay. this is a lot of flashcards."

"i have a final in three days," you say, not looking up as you flip to the next page of your notes.

"i know, you texted me." he says it fondly, not accusingly, already reaching for one of your color-coded stacks and flipping through them like he's trying to memorize the color system himself. "can i quiz you?"

you glance over at him with an eyebrow raised/ “you don’t know anything about organic chemistry, you only finished one year of college.”

"i know how to read, i’m not that stupid." he flips one over anyway, squinting at it like it's written in a foreign language, which, to him, it basically is, sounding out each syllable slowly. "what's... nucleo... nucleophilic substitution?"

you sigh, but it's not really an annoyed sigh — it's the sigh of someone who has known this man for almost a year and has never once successfully told him no, not on the phone, and apparently not at the door either. "it's a reaction where a nucleophile replaces a leaving group in a molecule," you recite without even having to think about it.

"see, you knew that." he beams up at you, tossing the flashcard back onto the pile with the satisfaction of someone who just personally solved organic chemistry. "you're gonna crush this final."

"that's one out of," you wave a hand to the unorganized stack of cards laid out. "hundreds of vocab i have to go through."

"you'll get there." he shuffles closer on the couch, tucking himself against your side with the ease of someone who has claimed this exact spot a hundred times before, resting his head against your shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. "i'll be very still. i'm basically furniture."

"you are not furniture," you say, trying and failing to sound stern.

"i'm like a teddy bear," he counters, and you can hear the grin in his voice even without looking at him.

you try to keep studying. you really do. but macklin has this way of existing near you that makes it genuinely difficult to focus — not because he's loud, though he can be, but because he's warm, and solid, and smells like your shampoo because he apparently can't be bothered to buy his own, and every few minutes he presses a kiss to the top of your head like it's an automatic function of his body that he has no control over.

you’ve been trying to concentrate for the past ten minutes now, but every minute or so macklin would interrupt your thoughts. touching your face ("there's an eyelash on your cheek, hold on.."), playing with your school supplies ("since when did you get these fancy pens?"), or just finding random excuses to bother you ("do you know what time it is?" "macklin. your phone is right there.") were just some of the things he was doing, all with the restless, bright-eyed energy of something that's been cooped up inside all day and finally let out into a big backyard.

after the fifth or sixth interruption, you finally set your pen down and turn to look at him properly, giving him the most unimpressed expression you can manage. "puppy. you said you wouldn't bother me," you remind him, and the nickname does something visible to him. his ears go pink almost instantly, and he ducks his head like he's trying to hide the way his whole face lights up at it.

"i'm not-" he starts, voice a little higher than usual, clearing his throat before he tries again, pressing his face further into your hair as if that'll hide the blush. "i'm not bothering you. i'm being supportive," he insists...

"you've kissed my head four times in the last ten minutes," you point out, counting on your fingers for emphasis, though you're fighting a smile the entire time you say it.

"five," he corrects easily, and presses his lips to the crown of your head once more, slow and deliberate, just to prove his point and pad the count in his favor.

you swat at him half-heartedly, more reflex than actual protest, but you don't actually move away, and he knows you don't actually mean it, because he settles in even closer, resting his chin on your shoulder so he can watch you highlight your notes like it's the most interesting television program available, his floppy hair tickling against your cheek every time he shifts.

the sun has been sinking lower this whole time, slipping through the gap in your blinds until it lands right across your face in a thin gold stripe, warm and soft against your skin. you don't notice it. you're too busy underlining a definition for the third time, like repetition alone will make it stick.

macklin notices.

he goes quiet in a way that's different from his usual quiet. not bored, not restless, just still, watching you with his chin propped on your shoulder like he's forgotten what he was going to say. you don't catch it at first, too deep in your notes, until you feel his gaze more than see it, heavy and unmoving on the side of your face, and you finally glance over at him, brow furrowed in question. "what?" you ask.

"nothing." he says it too quickly, glancing away for half a second before his eyes settle right back on you, and when he speaks again his voice has dropped into something quieter, more careful, like it slipped out before he could decide whether to say it at all. "you know, you look pretty right now."

you blink, caught off guard enough that it takes you a second to respond, already reaching up to touch your own messy hair self-consciously. "i've been awake for-"

"i know. still pretty." he says it so plainly, like it's just a fact of the room, like the light and the mess and the three-day-old ponytail have nothing to do with it, reaching up to brush his thumb along your cheekbone, following the gold stripe of sun like he's tracing it on purpose. "the light's doing this thing. right here. you should study in the evening more often."

"macklin, that's not-" you start, already flustered, already trying to wave it off with some half-formed argument about proper lighting and eye strain, but you don't get the chance to finish it, because he leans in and kisses you before the sentence even has anywhere to go.

it's slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that doesn't ask for anything except for you to stop talking for a second. your highlighter is still loose in your hand, and for a moment there's no final, no flashcards, no more chapters — just the warmth of the evening light and the warmth of him, close and familiar and endlessly patient in a way he pretends not to be.

when he finally pulls back, just barely, his forehead resting against yours, his hair brushing against your skin, he's smiling like he won something.

"that wasn't fair," you mumble, still a little dazed, your fingers curling loosely into the front of his hoodie without you quite meaning for them to.

"i know," he says, not sorry at all, thumb still resting against your cheek like he isn't in any hurry to let go of the moment. "you're gonna crush your final."

"you're impossible," you tell him, though it comes out fond, and he just grins wider like it's the nicest thing you've ever called him.

"i'm in love with you. slightly different." he presses one more kiss to the corner of your mouth, quick and pleased with himself, before finally leaning back into the couch cushions, looking entirely too satisfied with the whole exchange. after a while, once the quiet has settled comfortably between you again, he speaks up, voice quieter now, almost testing the waters. "you know, you could take a break. just for like ten minutes."

"i really can't. i have so much left," you say, though your resolve is noticeably weaker than it was twenty minutes ago.

"i'll make you tea," he offers, already halfway to standing, like the matter is basically decided.

"macklin no–” you start to protest, but he cuts you off before you can build any real momentum.

"i'll make you tea and i'll sit here and be silent and i will not distract you even a little bit, i promise, i just." he pauses mid-sentence, and when you glance over at him there's something almost sheepish in his expression, like he's embarrassed by his own honesty, his hand rubbing absently at the back of his neck. "i missed you. you've been in here for three days. i live right there." he points vaguely in the direction of his own apartment, as if you don't know exactly where it is, as if you haven't spent countless nights there yourself. "it's weird not seeing you."

your heart does the thing it always does when he says stuff like this. soft and a little dumb and completely unguarded, like it never occurs to him to be anything other than exactly, embarrassingly honest about how much he likes you.

you set your highlighter down, finally, and give him a small nod. "okay. ten minutes."

his whole face lights up like you've just told him christmas came early, already popping up off the couch, way too pleased with himself for someone who negotiated basically nothing. "ten minutes," he agrees, backing toward the kitchen as he points at you like he's issuing a formal warning. "i'm gonna make the tea. don't look at your notes while i'm gone, that's cheating."

"that's not how breaks work!" you call after him, though you're already leaning back into the couch cushions.

he ignore you. you hear him opening cabinets he definitely doesn't need to open, just to make noise, just to fill the space, just because he likes being useful to you.

you lean back against the couch cushions and let yourself actually rest for the first time in days, the last of the sunset fading into something dimmer and darker outside the window, listening to him hum something off-key while the kettle heats up, and you think, not for the first time, that you don't really mind being bothered. not by him.

when he comes back with two mugs and immediately curls back into your side, declaring the ten minutes "officially started," you don’t even mind one bit.

"Please," he continued, "I need it. Need you."

"Macklin," you sighed, "I'm trying to watch my show."

He pouted dramatically, "I know, I'm sorry. But please, babe. I- I need it," he rested his head on your thigh, "need you to fuck me, need you inside me."

You finally looked away from the tv and really looked at him. For a while, all you did was take in the sight in front of you, his bottom lip bitten between his teeth, his eyes wide and glossy, his hands pressed between his thighs like he was trying to hold himself back from something.

"Mack," you reached out and ran a hand through his hair, to which he whined in response.

"I'll do anything," he insisted, "mommy, please."

That was your undoing. The sound of the word mommy coming from his lips sent heat through your body, you could never resist when he called you that.

"Go," you pointed in the general direction of your shared bedroom, "naked on your hands and knees."

He scrambled up off the floor and rushed toward the hallway, almost slipping more than once before he disappeared from your view. You waited a few minutes, just to torture him, to build the suspense and desperation.

When you finally walked into the bedroom, you found him exactly like you'd expected to. His boxers had been abandoned on the floor and he was on his hands and knees on the bed, his ass up in the air as if he was presenting it to you.

You didn't acknowledge him verbally, just walked over to the nightstand and pulled out the bottle of lube. Macklin flinched at the sound of the drawer, his face had been pressed into the comforter beneath him and he hadn't heard you come in. Now that he was aware of your presence, his head snapped up and his eyes followed you until you were behind him again.

"Mommy," he whined.

"Mhm," you caressed his ass as you stood at the foot of the bed, "I'm right here, baby. Mommy's gonna take care of you, don't worry."

The soft sound that came from him was the sweetest thing you'd ever heard, and you could feel yourself getting wet already.

"So pretty for me," you praised softly as you opened the bottle and squeezed some out directly onto his hole. The feeling of the cold liquid made him flinch, which made you laugh, "sorry, baby," but you both knew you weren't really sorry.

You pressed your pointer finger to his hole and he immediately pushed his hips back until the tip of your finger slipped inside of him.

"So needy," you chastised, though you just pushed your finger in further, purposely avoiding his prostate.

When you added a second finger, he moaned at the stretch, "mommy."

"Such a good boy," you praised.

You spent a while thrusting those two fingers in and out of him, until you finally added a third. Mack let out repetitive sighs and moans when you started scissoring them to open him up. You kept at it for a while, wanting to be sure he was properly stretched and prepped for the strap. But after a while, your boyfriend started to get impatient, which was typical for him.

"C'mon, please," he begged, "please, I'm ready."

"Be patient, Mack," you told him firmly, still moving your fingers inside of him, "I'll tell you when you're ready."

After a few more minutes, you finally pulled your fingers out of him and tapped his hip.

"Okay, flip over, baby," you instructed, "wanna see your pretty face while I fuck you."

He did as you said, turning over and adjusting his position until he was flat on his back with his head on the pillow. You smiled, just admiring him for a second, his eyes wide and focused on you, his slightly grown out hair spread messily on the pillow, and his chest that rose and fell with each deep breath he took. Eventually, you leaned forward and kissed him, which he reciprocated eagerly. 

When you pulled away, he let out a whimper and tried to chase your lips, but you put a hand against his chest to keep him where he was. 

"I'll be right back, okay?" you spoke softly.

He nodded and watched your every move as you got off the bed and walked across the room to the closet. You disappeared inside for a minute before coming back out holding the strap-on harness, which already had one of Macklin's favorite dildos attached to it. The dildo was teal, about six inches in length, and had a slight curve that allowed it to hit his prostate perfectly. 

You moved back over to the bed and set the strap down next to his leg while you worked on undressing yourself. Once you were naked, you picked it up again and pulled the harness up your legs until it was settled on your hips.

Mack watched the whole thing with wide eyes, his lips parted and drool pooling in his mouth. His eyes stayed trained on you as you climbed onto the bed on your knees, picked up the bottle of lube again, and poured some into your hand. You were too focused on spreading lube over the dildo to notice the way his hips started squirming, but when you finally caught sight of it, it made you smirk.

"You ready for me, baby?" you asked, your hands slowly caressing his thighs. 

He nodded enthusiastically and shifted his hips, trying to urge you on. 

You moved forward and pulled his thighs up over your own until his hips were up off the bed and the tip of the dildo was just centimeters from his hole. 

"Beg for it," you commanded, "beg me to fuck you."

"Mommy," he whined loudly, "please! Oh, please, fuck me. I need it. Need you so bad, mommy, please please please."

You smiled and guided the tip to his hole, watching the way his hips pushed toward you instinctively, "god, you're so desperate for it, aren't you?"

"Yes," he admitted in a gasping breath, "yes, mommy. Need it so bad. Please, mommy, please, give it to me."

With careful movements, you pushed your hips forward until the strap slipped inside of him. He hissed at the stretch, but quickly willed his body to relax and let out a more pleasurable sigh. 

"Good boy," you praised, one hand still rubbing the soft skin of his thigh. 

You waited just a couple seconds before thrusting forward further, the length sinking into him. You didn't stop moving again until your hips were flush against him, the strap buried completely inside of him. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands were fisted in the sheets, and he was taking deep breaths to relax himself. 

"Mommy," he whispered, his hips squirming again. 

"Feel good?" you asked, receiving a nod in response. 

When he finally opened his eyes again, he looked up at you in a way that made your heart stop. Those bright eyes, so wide and trusting, focused completely on you. It was enough to take your breath away, but he didn't even seem to notice the effect he had on you. 

"Please," the word snapped you out of your thoughts about how much you loved the man laying there, spread out on the bed just for you. 

"What do you need, baby?"

"M-move, mommy, please," he begged so prettily.

"Such a sweet boy," you complimented him as you pulled your hips back.

Once only the tip was left inside of him, you snapped your hips forward, pushing all the way inside him once again. He moaned, and you repeated the actions. 

"That good, baby?" you asked as you set a steady pace of thrusting in and out of him. 

"Y-yes, mommy," he whimpered, "so good. Feels so good, thank you."

He continued to let out pretty little sounds as you fucked him, a blush coating his face and neck, down to his chest. It was always such a beautiful sight when you did this.

After a few minutes, you adjusted your position, leaning forward until your body was draped over his, your hands flat against the bed on either side of his torso to hold you up. He immediately reached up and gripped onto your forearms instead of the sheets like he'd been doing before. He gasped loudly at the first inward thrust in the new position, the sound quickly followed by a drawn out moan, and you knew you must've been hitting his prostate now.

"Like that, baby? You want it right there? Does that feel good?"

He nodded frantically, his eyes squeezing shut again. 

"Tell mommy how good I make you feel," you whispered in his ear before kissing his jaw, your hips still snapping in and out of him. 

"So good," he sighed, his voice a higher pitch than usual, "always make me feel so good. Love it. I love you, mommy."

You smiled, "I love you too, baby," you tilted your head to capture his lips in a real kiss, which pulled another sweet moan from him.

"Fuck," he groaned loudly, pulling away from the kiss. One of his hands moved to your back, his fingers scrambling for purchase on your skin. His hips were moving in time with you now, meeting every one of your thrusts half way. 

You looked down between you and saw his dick leaking precum onto his stomach. The sight made you lick your lips.

"Are you gonna cum for me, baby?" you asked him.

"Yeah," he gasped, pressing his nose against your cheek, "wanna cum for you."

His hand started to move between you, but you quickly caught his wrist, "no, baby," you told him, your voice soft but firm, "you're gonna cum from me fucking you, you don't need to touch yourself."

That made him whine, his hips pushing up off the bed as if he was trying to find some friction against his aching dick.

"C'mon, baby," you whispered, your voice like honey, "cum for mommy, show me how good I make you feel."

"I can't," he cried, his eyes shut tight with tears stuck to his lashes.

"Yes you can," you told him confidently, "I know you can."

You increased your pace, ignoring the burn you were starting to feel in your thighs. Your efforts were rewarded with a high pitched noise that tumbled from your boyfriend's lips. 

"That's it," you continued, "you can do it. Be a good boy for mommy, show me what your pretty little cock can do."

A couple minutes and a few particularly hard thrusts later, Macklin came undone. He screamed out your name and wrapped his arms around you as his orgasm hit him full force, his cum splattering across his abs, decorating his soft skin beautifully.

He panted as he came down from his orgasm, his arms only tightening around you and pulling you closer to him until you were laying completely on top of him. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. 

The two of you stayed like that for a few long minutes before you finally lifted yourself up and pulled the dildo out of him. He whined at the loss, cracking one eye open to watch you as you took the strap off.

"Come back here," he whined and made grabby hands at you as soon as the harness had been discarded onto the floor next to the bed. 

You laughed softly and crawled into his arms, allowing yourself to be practically crushed against his chest.

"Don't you want me to clean you up?" you asked, running your fingers through his hair soothingly.

He just shook his head and started kissing your neck, "I gotta return the favor first."

Before you knew it, you were laid out on your back with Mack's head buried between your thighs, and you knew the night was far from over.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Despite all the things being left unsaid, Will ends up in your dorm constantly now. 

At first there were excuses. Him needed help on homework, or you would want to watch NHL games together like you did when you were younger. You grabbing him dinner after he has a late practice, studying together. Soon enough those excuses faded away, and now he just shows up. 

Sometimes he doesn’t even knock before walking in because at some point you told him to stop bothering. “You practically live here anyway,” you’d mumbled one night while half asleep beneath your blankets with him tucked beside you. The terrifying part was how right it felt, being told to just come over whenever he wanted, that your space was slowly becoming his space too. 

Tonight is no different. Will walks into your dorm after practice, exhausted, his hair still damp from his shower, and his hockey bag slung over one shoulder.

You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed surrounded by papers and highlighted notes, your hair is hanging around your face, but you don’t think about fixing it. You’ve been going over chemistry notes for what feels like hours and yet nothing you’re looking at is clicking.

But the second you look up and see him, your whole face softens, and you smile. “Hi,” you say quietly.

And now he’s feeling it again, and every time he sees you looking at him like that it gets worse. There's that feeling again. It’s that horrible, overwhelming warmth in his chest. 

“Hey, sweetheart—” The word leaves his mouth automatically, he wasn’t even thinking about what he was saying. Instantly both of you freeze, Will’s bag still hanging off of his shoulder and your highlighter hovering over a page of your notebook. 

Your eyes widen slightly, and the room goes completely silent. This time you definitely heard it and he knows that you heard it. It wasn’t just some sleepy mistake this time, not mumbled under his breath, not hidden. Clear as day, he called you sweetheart. 

Will feels heat crawl violently up the back of his neck, and you stare at him for half a second too long before your gaze drops quickly back toward your notes, trying way too hard to look casual.

“…Hi,” you repeat softly, voice quieter now, a little shaky. 

Neither of you move to acknowledge it, and neither of you breathes normally for the next minute either. 

Will slowly sets his bag down near the door like nothing happened, even though his pulse is absolutely losing its mind.

“How was practice?” you ask him, like normal. 

He nods and shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, “Good, yeah. Practice was good. Stayed later watching film, but…I guess that was productive.” 

You hum in response, giving him a slow nod. “I missed you,” you admit. You aren’t sure if saying that would add or take away from the energy shift after he called you sweetheart but you figure, might as well turn the attention to something else. 

“I missed you too,” he admits, walking over and sitting next to you on your bed. He spots a takeout container sitting on your desk beside your textbooks. 

“You ate without me?” he asks dramatically.

You don’t even look up from your notes you’re back to highlighting, “No, I ordered enough for both of us because I knew you’d get out of practice too late to stop on your way here.”

He feels something in his heart because of your consideration, and because you say things like that so casually, like you want to take care of him and make sure he’s okay.

Will reaches for the container while you continue highlighting and marking, completely focused on your assignment. A strand of hair falls into your face after a second, for probably the fifteenth time tonight. Before you can fix it yourself, Will reaches out and tucks it gently behind your ear.

You freeze again, so does he. 

Your eyes slowly lift toward his. Will realizes his hand is still hovering beside your face. 

You blink softly, still looking at him and whisper, “Thanks.”

That’s it, just thanks. 

Will pulls his hand back like he touched fire and looks down at the food container in his lap instead because he suddenly can’t remember how to function normally around you anymore, he’s not sure if it’ll ever be normal again.

Breaking the silence, your phone buzzes with a notification.

You glance at it briefly.

“Oh my gosh, finally.” You say, picking up your phone and opening the notification, “Austin sent me the chem notes from today, they made no sense. I think I missed something, I’ve been highlighting and rewriting like crazy trying to catch my mistake.”

And just like that, the warmth in Will’s chest twists into something sharper as you go on about Austin and chem. Jealously fills his chest and his shoulders tense, but you don’t notice right away. 

You just keep talking casually while organizing papers beside him, “Thank god for him honestly, I completely forgot half the lecture and the other half I was lost the whole time.”

Will hums quietly in response, too quietly and now you notice something’s off.

You finally look over at him properly, brows pulling together slightly, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he answers too fast. Lie. 

You stare at him for another second like you’re trying to figure him out, and you make a mental note that this feels awfully similar to the argument you two had on the phone, about Austin, not even two weeks ago. 

Will just keeps his focus fixed on the food in his lap because if he looks at you right now he might accidentally say something insane. He can’t say ‘stop talking about him,’ or, ‘I hate hearing his name and how much he gets to see you.’ 

Instead he settles on something else, and asks stiffly, “You two together all the time now or something?”

The second the words leave his mouth he regrets them. Your eyebrows pull together immediately, “What?”

“Nothing,” Will says quickly, shaking his head, exhaling hard. 

But you’re still looking at him now, confused in that careful way that tells him you’ve started noticing the shifts in his mood lately, and that terrifies him. The closer he gets to loving you openly, the worse he gets at hiding it. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Ryan and Gabe notice everything, obviously. 

One night after practice the three of them are sprawled around their dorm while some random game plays muted on TV. Will is barely paying attention, because he’s texting you. 

Ryan watches him from across the room for a long moment before saying, “You know at this point I think you’ve spent more nights in her dorm than your own.”

Will doesn’t even look up from his phone. “That’s not true,” he says as he shakes his head. 

“Dude,” Gabe says flatly, “you literally have a toothbrush there now.”

Will freezes, like a deer getting caught in headlights. 

Ryan immediately points at him, “Oh my god he does.”

“It’s convenient,” Will defends weakly, but the other two just stare at him. 

Then Gabe says carefully, “You know we stopped making fun of you because this stopped being funny like…weeks ago.”

That finally gets Will to look up. Ryan’s expression softens slightly beneath the teasing, “Seriously, man.” Somehow Ryan saying that makes it worse. Now he feels like he’s stuck in this weird in between, being your friend versus telling you how he feels. 

Will drops his phone onto his chest and stares at the ceiling, “I think something’s wrong with me,” he mutters.

Gabe actually laughs at that. “You’re in love with your best friend. You’re not dying.”

Will groans loudly and drags both hands down his face.

“See?” Ryan says immediately. “That reaction right there? That’s exactly what we mean, you’re too in your head about it dude.”

Will closes his eyes, because he thinks they’re right but he doesn’t want to admit it. It doesn’t feel hypothetical anymore, it feels like he could call you now and tell you everything and it might be okay, but there’s that little part of him that’s too scared to do it. 

It stopped being harmless somewhere between winter break and falling asleep with you in his arms, and hearing you say you missed him too in that quiet voice that makes his chest ache.

Now it just feels inevitable, like something is going to happen at some point he just doesn’t know when, if it’ll be good or bad, and if it will be on your part or his. And that’s terrifying. Because every day it becomes more impossible to pretend his heart doesn’t belong to you already.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

A few days later, Will’s already had a bad day. Practice ran long, his coach was on everyone for things that normally wouldn’t matter. On top of that his legs ache, his head hurts, and he feels like he can barely function. What’s keeping him going right this second is the thought of seeing you. He spent basically the entire afternoon thinking about finally seeing you tonight because the last few days have felt busy in that awful way where he only gets pieces of you instead of actual time with you. 

He’s sitting in the locker room after everyone else has mostly filtered out, unlacing his skates slowly while checking his phone every thirty seconds.

Then your text comes through.

You: sorry :( austin and i are staying late in the library for chem. we have that quiz tuesday and i’m still confused lol

Something in him immediately twists, not anger at you, just this surge of disappointment because plans changed last minute. You changed them, and you’ll now be spending time with Austin. He’d been looking forward to tonight all day without even realizing how much until it’s suddenly gone.

Will stares at the message for too long. He knows this is ridiculous, you’re studying with your lab partner. Will knows you’ve been stressing about chem for weeks, and he knows it’s gotten a lot harder for you recently, but the thought of this happening anyway is still frustrating. 

Emotionally? He hates this. All he can think is, of course it’s Austin. His jaw tightens before he can stop it.

Across the locker room, Ryan notices instantly, “Uh oh.”

Will looks up sharply. “What?”

Ryan points at him from where he’s digging through his bag, “That face.”

“What face?”

“The one you make when you’re pretending not to be upset, or when you’re pissed.”

“I’m not upset.”

Gabe walks by at the worst possible moment, grabbing a hoodie off the bench. “Austin?”

Will glares immediately, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yep,” Gabe says calmly. “Definitely Austin.”

Will drops his head back against the locker with a groan.

Ryan sits down beside him a second later, quieter now. “What happened?”

Will hesitates before holding his phone out wordlessly, and Ryan reads the text. “Oh,” he says carefully.

“See? I know it’s stupid,” Will says immediately, and he allows frustration to bleed through his voice now. “Like I know she’s just studying. I know that. But I’ve barely seen her all week and now she’s spending the entire night with him again and—” He cuts himself off hard.

And I feel like she's choosing him over me, that’s the sentence he won’t finish, because all the guys know how it ends, and Will doesn't want to say it out loud right now. Ryan exchanges a look with Gabe.

Will rubs both hands down his face, “I sound insane.”

“No,” Gabe says after a second. “You sound scared.”

That makes Will go still, because Gabe’s trying to be reassuring and he’s saying exactly how Will is feeling. He just hasn’t let himself call it that yet, scared, even though that’s exactly what it is. 

It’s not anger at you, it’s not jealousy of Austin, really. It’s just fear. Fear that you’ll eventually start needing Austin the way that you need Will, fear that Austin might become your first call, your safe place, your person. 

He understands now why people say ‘love makes you crazy’ because right now he feels crazy and he feels physically sick. 

“She’s not replacing you,” Ryan says quietly, like he can somehow hear the spiral happening in Will’s head. Will laughs once, dry and exhausted, “You don’t know that, man.”

“Yes we do,” Gabe says immediately. “Because we’ve seen the way she looks at you, dude.”

Will looks away. He’s been seeing it too. The way you look at him, softly, the way you fall asleep curled up against him most nights, the way you always check in on him and he does the same for you. 

That’s what makes this terrifying, because if there’s even a chance you feel this too, then there’s suddenly something real to lose.

His phone buzzes again in his hand before he can respond to what Gabe said.

You: i’ll probably be done kinda late but can i come see you after? please? 

And just like that, all the sharpness in his chest softens painfully around the edges, immediately. Ryan watches his expression change in real time and groans dramatically, “Oh my god.” Gabe leans over immediately. “What’d she say?”

Will tries not to smile and fails miserably, “She wants to come over after.”

Ryan shoves Will’s shoulder, “See? That. That right there, she studies with Austin and then immediately wants to see you. Because I think for her it’s always gonna be you.”

Will’s chest tightens again, but differently this time, it’s warmer and it’s tight in that exciting way because he’s excited to see you. The truth is he’d wait up all night for you if you asked him to. Exhausted, angry, irrational, jealous, it never seems to matter once it’s you.

And that realization sits heavy in his chest the entire walk back to his dorm, through the slush on the sidewalk, through the rain, his only thought is that he can’t wait to see you in a few hours. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

By the time you finally get to Will’s dorm it’s almost one in the morning.

Rain taps steadily against the windows of the building, cold and relentless, turning the campus sidewalks slick beneath the dim streetlights. Your shoulders ache from hunching over chemistry notes for hours. Your brain is exhausted and still buzzing at the same time.

The second Will opens the door for you, some part of you relaxes immediately, and that alone should probably tell you enough. 

He’s wearing black sweats and a BC hockey t-shirt. His hair is messy and slightly damp from a shower he took a while ago, and he looks tired too. Really tired.

Despite his exhaustion, his face softens the second he sees you standing there, “Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hi,” your reply. 

He automatically steps aside to let you in, and you brush past him into the warmth of the room. Gabe and Ryan are gone (thankfully) probably sleeping over with some other guys from the team. You know that when you texted him while he was at practice those two definitely saw your messages, and decided to give you and Will your time alone. 

Will shuts the door behind you softly, and he notices your body language, your attitude, so he asks, “You okay?”

You nod, “Just tired.” It’s an honest answer, chem has been a nightmare for the past few weeks. Some people might think you’re being dramatic but it’s been incredibly draining recently. 

“That bad?”

You let out a weak laugh, dropping your bag beside his desk, “I think chemistry was invented specifically to ruin my life. So far that’s been successful.”

That gets a small smile out of him, but there’s still something that’s off. You can tell almost immediately, the smile was a little forced, all his questions and greetings have been shorter than normal…something’s off. 

You turn toward him slowly, “Are you still upset?”

His eyes flick toward you instantly. “What?”

“About Austin.”

You catch it immediately when Austin’s name comes out of your mouth, that tiny shift in Will’s expression. Your chest tightens in frustration. 

“Will,” you say carefully, “Seriously. What is going on with you lately?”

“Nothing’s going on,” he defends sharply. 

You stare at him, but he won’t even look at you properly now. He’s moving around the room aimlessly, picking up random things, moving them, sorting through papers, like he needs something to do with his hands or some kind of distraction. 

You’re tired of this. You’ve been tired of it for a while but you haven’t brought it up. You’re tired of the tension from him, the mood shifts that seem to come out of nowhere with no explanation. You’re sick of feeling like something is happening between the two of you but he isn’t acknowledging it. 

You spit it out, “Every single time I mention him,” you say slowly, “you get weird.”

“I don’t get weird.”

“You do.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not, Will.”

Will exhales sharply through his nose, frustrated now too, “Can we not do this right now?”

“No,” you say immediately, “We need to do this now because whatever the hell’s going on with you will probably just get worse if we don’t.” 

That makes him finally look at you.

Rain starts to hit harder against the windows behind him, and you can feel your own emotions starting to rise now, exhausted and messy from weeks of pretending not to notice all the changes between you, both good and bad. 

“You don’t get to act like this and then refuse to tell me why,” you tell him quietly.

Will runs a hand through his hair roughly. “I said it’s nothing.”

“And I don’t believe you anymore.”

He’s silent. Like he knows you’re completely right and something is wrong but he’s still refusing to bring it up. Your voice softens slightly after a second, “Did I do something?” The question visibly destroys him a little, “No,” he says immediately. “Jesus, no. no, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then what is it?”

Nothing. Again. All you get is his jaw tightening a little more, and continued silence. 

You feel frustration spike hotter in your chest now because you’re standing here feeling like you’re losing your mind. Things have changed between you. He looks at you differently now, he touches you differently, he becomes almost completely closed off when you mention Austin, he almost said “I love you” for God’s sake and he’s refusing to talk about any of it. 

“Why do you care so much?” you ask again, your voice shaking this time.

He hates that question. In this context he hates it even more. He closes his eyes and you watch his throat move hard when he swallows. 

“Will.”

“I don’t know,” he tries. It’s not convincing, so you keep pushing. 

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“No, it’s not,” you say, tears threatening now, your eyes burning from pure frustration more than anything, and the fact that you're talking to him like this, you hate it. You feel like you're being mean even though you just want an answer.

“You get upset every time I talk about him. You act like you hate him, and I don’t understand why.”

“I don’t hate him.”

That doesn’t answer your question. 

“Then why does this keep happening?”

“Because—” He cuts himself off violently.

“Because what?”

Nothing. Will looks absolutely miserable now, pacing once toward the door before stopping again. You follow him before you can question it. 

“We were fine,” you continue, voice shakier now, “And now everything feels...different all the time and you keep looking at me like you want to say something and then you don’t and I—” You cut yourself off hard, breathing uneven, “I don’t understand what I did. I don’t understand what your problem is.” 

Will looks wrecked suddenly, like he’s barely holding himself together. 

“You want to know what my problem is?” he asks quietly. The question itself sounds condescending, but there’s not an ounce of that in his voice. 

“Yes,” you tell him. 

“You really wanna know?”

“Yes,” you say again, almost pleading now. “Because I can’t keep guessing, and I can’t keep feeling like something’s wrong with me or that you’re mad at me.”

Will laughs once, but it sounds miserable, then he grabs his jacket off the chair beside the desk and pushes past you toward the door. Your eyes widen, “Will—”

“I need air.”

And before you can stop him he’s gone. Out the door, probably down the stairs, and you have no idea why. He just walked out on you and it makes you feel impossibly worse than you did when you walked in earlier. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The rain is freezing outside. It soaks through Will’s shirt almost immediately as he walks blindly across the parking lot beside the dorm building, breathing hard. His chest hurts, everything hurts. His heart hurts because he knows exactly what will happen if you keep pushing him tonight. 

The worst part is that he wants you to. He wants to tell you everything, and finally be honest and let you know that he hates Austin for stupid reasons and that he recognizes all the changes between the two of you, he just hasn’t been brave enough to say anything about them. 

He hears the door to his dorm building slam open behind him.

“Will!”

He closes his eyes briefly at the sound of your voice, and he turns around. You’re running toward him through the rain, your sweater getting soaked.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you ask breathlessly once you reach him.

Will laughs bitterly under his breath, shaking his head. “You really don’t know?”

“No!” you shout back, frustrated at his tone and confused why he’s talking to you that way, “I don’t!”

You look devastated now, but you keep going. “I don’t understand why you care so much,” you say again, voice breaking slightly this time. “Why does Austin bother you this much?”

Will looks away immediately.

“Don’t say he’s not the reason you’ve been like this lately because I know that’s the reason,” you say. 

That question again, slamming into his chest but this time he can’t avoid it. So he just stays quiet. 

You step closer despite the rain, “Why do you care?”

No response.

“Will. Talk to me.”

His breathing goes uneven, and you can see him fighting himself. “I can’t do this right now,” he mutters.

“Yes, you can.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” you shout. 

That breaks him, completely breaks him. He turns toward you so fast it almost startles you, rain dripping down his face as his voice finally cracks.

“Because I’m in love with you, okay?”

The world stops. The sound of the rain becomes muted and your breath catches in your throat. 

Will looks horrified the second the words leave his mouth, like he physically can’t believe he said them out loud, but now he can’t stop. Everything comes pouring out. 

“The thought of somebody else getting to have you makes me feel sick,” he says shakily. “Every time you talk about him I feel like I’m losing my mind and I know it’s irrational and unfair but I can’t help it. I think it took a lot for me to realize, losing you in the fall and then getting you back and now seeing you with another guy all the time I just can’t…I hate it. I hate it because I want to be your person in every single way, more than I already am because I care about you more than anything. I love you.”

Your eyes fill immediately, the world going blurry around you.

You realize he's crying too, and his voice breaks harder, “I don’t know how to stop loving you.”

You stare at him like the entire world just shifted underneath your feet, and suddenly everything makes sense. The jealousy, all the tension. The almost confession. Sweetheart. The forehead kiss, the way he reaches for you first, and the way you always, always, reach back. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, tears mixing instantly with rainwater on your cheeks. Will’s expression crumples immediately at your tears. “No, no. Please don’t cry, shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, I messed up.”

“No,” you cut him off instantly, crying harder now. “No, that’s not—,” your voice breaks completely, because suddenly you realize you’ve been in love with him too, probably longer than you even knew. 

“I thought I imagined it,” you admit shakily, “I thought maybe I was ruining our friendship because I started realizing I love you but I wasn’t supposed to, and then you almost said you loved me, and I didn’t know if I made it up or if I was reading into everything…”

Will just stares at you, completely shattered open. “You love me?” he asks quietly, like he’s afraid to hope for it.

You laugh through tears, wiping uselessly at your face. “Will, I think I’ve been in love with you for years, but I never realized.”

His expression completely falls apart; he covers his face briefly with one hand, laughing shakily in disbelief before looking back at you again. When he looks at you this time, there’s no hiding it anymore. There’s nothing guarded left, just love.

"You're serious?" he asks, like nothing is believable right now, like it all might be a dream.

You nod, frantically. "I'm serious, I'm sure, I—" your words catch on your tears as you say what you've been wanting to say for months, probably years, "—I love you too."

The words hang between you in the rain, fragile between you, like whoever breathes next breaks the moment.

Will just stares at you for a second like his brain genuinely isn't processing what he’s hearing. His eyes then squeeze shut briefly, overwhelmed, and he lets out this broken laugh that sounds dangerously close to another sob, more tears running down his cheeks. Or maybe it's rain, you can't tell.

Either way, your hands move instinctively to his face, thumbs brushing beneath his eyes as tears continue to flow down your face. The rain keeps soaking through both of you, cold against your skin, but neither of you notices anymore.

“Hey,” you whisper shakily, almost laughing yourself now because he looks so completely undone, having laid out his heart, you doing the same and now he doesn't know what to do.

“Hey, look at me,” you say. He does instantly.

The second his eyes meet yours again, something shifts in his expression, something deeper than relief. Years' worth of restraint are finally collapsing all at once. His hands move to rest at your waist, tightening around you almost desperately, his forehead dropping against yours as he exhales hard.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says softly.

You aren’t exactly sure what does it, maybe it's him saying that, maybe it's the way he's looking at you, but a second later you’re pulling him closer. 

Then suddenly he’s kissing you.

It’s messy, and it’s desperate, and it’s rain-soaked and emotional. It’s years and years worth of feelings crashing into each other all at once. You grab fistfuls of his shirt, and his hands cradle your face so gently that more tears pool in your eyes. 

He kisses you like he’s been waiting forever, because saying it out loud to your face unlocked something in him. 

Your tears mix together between kisses, both of you laughing shakily into each other’s mouths because this is insane and overwhelming and somehow exactly right at the same time. When you both pull away, Will presses his forehead against yours, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers immediately. “For getting jealous and weird and ruining everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you whisper back just as fast.

His eyes close briefly, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says. Your heart aches. You love him so much and it’s finally real, it's not just built on an idea, it’s happening. 

You barely give him time to breathe before kissing him again. Will makes this quiet startled sound against your mouth like he still can’t believe this is real either, but then his hands slide more firmly around your waist and suddenly he’s kissing you back harder, it feels needier. 

Rain continues pouring around the two of you, soaking through both your clothes until neither of you can really tell where the cold ends and the heat between you begins, but you don’t care. You’d stand in the middle of a tornado and do the same thing. 

You’re smiling into the kiss one second and the next Will’s pulling you closer, one hand at the back of your neck while the other steadies at your waist like he needs to keep you right against him now that he finally can. 

“God,” he breathes against your lips, almost laughing shakily, “I really like kissing you.”

You can’t help smiling at that, eyes watery and overwhelmed, “You’re such an idiot.”

“I know,” he says immediately before kissing you again.

This one is slower for half a second before it deepens again, both of you still emotionally wrecked from everything that just happened. It feels like every touch means too much now, every single movement feels amplified. 

Will’s thumb brushes beneath your eye carefully, wiping away lingering tears mixed with rainwater. “You’re freezing,” he murmurs softly.

You shake your head immediately, still tangled against him, “I don’t care.”

That makes him laugh quietly, forehead dropping briefly against yours again. You can feel how hard his heart is beating through his soaked t-shirt.

His gaze flicks down to your mouth again, and the look on his face changes. It’s not just emotional now, it’s laced with something warmer, hungrier almost. 

Like now that he’s allowed to want you openly, he doesn’t know how to stop. Your breath catches slightly at the realization because you think you’re looking at him the exact same way.

Will notices immediately, and his hands tighten carefully at your waist. “We should probably go inside,” he says, voice rougher now.

You nod instantly even though neither of you move.

Another kiss, it’s softer this time.

Then another.

Will smiles helplessly against your lips like he physically cannot stop kissing you now that he’s started. “Seriously,” he mutters between kisses, “If we stay out here much longer I’m not gonna be able to think straight.”

Heat rushes violently into your face despite the freezing rain, and his expression softens immediately after saying it, like he’s worried he pushed too far too fast. Then you kiss him again first, hands sliding up into his damp hair, and whatever restraint he had left visibly disappears.

“Okay,” he says breathlessly once he pulls away again. “Inside. Right now.”

You laugh softly as he grabs your hand immediately, intertwining your fingers without hesitation as he leads you back toward the dorm building.

Somehow that simple thing almost overwhelms you more than the kissing did, because it means this is real now. 

Will glances back at you halfway to the door of the building, eyes soft and stunned, and completely in love.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The door to Will’s dorm clicks shut behind you, but the rain continues to hit the windows. You've both kicked off your shoes by the door, both of you soaked from the rain, your clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Your hand is still wrapped up in his, and your eyes trace up and down his forearm, not really knowing what exactly to do now. 

Will, similarly, doesn’t move. He doesn’t move to switch on another light, so the room is cast in a muted yellow glow from the lamp on his desk, making everything feel warmer than it actually is. Or maybe that’s just you…because you’re starting to overthink. 

Everything is starting to hit you now. You started arguing, he ran out, you followed him, he confessed that he loves you, you cried, he cried, you told him you were in love with him too, you kissed, couldn't stop kissing, and then he suggested you come back up to his room in a tone you thought meant something more, now you’re not exactly sure. You’re okay with whatever happens but now you’re beginning to think you got your hopes up a little. 

Before you can run more circles in your head, Will turns to you, the look in his eyes makes your breath hitch. You’ve never seen him look at you like that, it’s like he’s seeing you deeper, and like he wants more. He doesn't say anything, but his free hand moves to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone gently. 

His eyes are still burning into yours, in the best way. Eventually he speaks up, and it’s soft and it’s quiet, “Do you want to—?” You don’t even let him finish the question, because you’re sure. You want this, and you want to do this with him. 

“Yes, I want to,” you tell him. 

Something shifts in his eyes, like he’s understanding and agreeing with you. He just nods, pulling you a little closer, his hand still on your jaw, and then his mouth is on yours again. 

This kiss feels more deliberate, it’s slower, like more emotion is being poured in instead of just desperation, because he knows this time he doesn’t have to rush. His hand drops from yours so he can cup your face with both his hands. 

You feel it everywhere, like something running through your veins, it’s this feeling you can’t quite put a finger on but all you know is you want more. More of this, more of him, your fingers fist his wet shirt again and pull him closer to you. 

He follows easily, stepping closer so that your chest is pressed up against his. He moves his hands to trace down the column of your throat, his thumb lingering over your pulse. He notices your heartbeat stuttering under his hand, so he pulls back a little. 

“Hey,” he says, “you okay?” His voice is impossibly soft and it honestly makes you want to cry. So many things have happened in the past ten minutes and your emotions are at an all time high, not in a bad way, it’s just overwhelming. 

You nod, pulling him back closer to you, “I’m okay…it’s just a lot,” you admit. 

“Yeah, it is a lot,” he agrees, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, you know that right? I’d never want you to feel like you had to do something just because of me, whatever we do, I want you to want to do it,” he says. 

Your answer is immediate, “I want to, I want this with you.” 

His eyes don’t stray away from yours, “I want this too,” he tells you. 

You just stare at each other for a moment, before he moves closer and kisses you again. This time his hands wander down, over your shoulders, down to your waist, and finally settle on your hips. 

After another moment he pulls away, settling his forehead against yours while one of his hands drifts towards the hem of your sweater. He gives it a small tug before asking, “Can I take this off?” 

Your breath hitches, like your mind and body are realizing that this is actually happening, and you nod. 

“You sure?” he checks. 

“Yes.”

That word is all he needs before he’s peeling the wet sweater over your head, his fingers grazing your sides as he goes. The air of the room feels cool against your skin and you shiver. He tosses your sweater somewhere on the floor, then moves to remove his own shirt. 

You’ve seen him without a shirt a million times, but it’s different now, very different. You allow your eyes to roam across the muscles of his chest, and the line of his hips. You reach out, cautiously, and he moves into your touch. His skin feels hot, and it’s damp from the rain. You feel his heartbeat under your fingers, and you realize it’s just as rapid as yours. He’s nervous too. 

He settles one of his hands over yours, then guides you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you sit down instinctively. He kneels before you, his hands resting on your knees. 

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the only thing in the world. There’s so much love, so much care only in his look, and you know this isn’t just a dream, or a spur of the moment thing, all this is very real. 

“Tell me if anything’s too much, and we’ll stop, or slow down, or do whatever you need,” he says. 

You nod, “Okay…you too.” Your hands start fidgeting in your lap, before you speak up again, “I’ve never done this before, I want to do it with you but…I don’t know...it just feels like a lot, not in a bad way. It’s hard to describe.” 

His heart almost breaks at that, not because of anything you said but because of how you sound. You sound nervous and he hates it because all he wants you to feel right now is comfortable, and safe. 

“I haven’t really done this either, and I want to do it with you too, but I’m serious, if you want to slow down, or stop, just tell me. Nothing matters except you being okay,” he says. 

“I will, I promise,” you say, your hands sliding up into his damp hair. 

He hums at your touch, nodding. “Lay back for me,” he says softly. 

You scoot up the bed and lie back, the blankets soft against your bare shoulders. He follows, moving over you then bracing himself on his elbows, changing you in a sanctuary of his arms. His weight is held carefully above you, and you don’t feel trapped, but you feel protected, like he’s shielding you from everything else and now it’s just you and him. 

He studies your face for a moment, and his hand comes up to brush hair back from your face, his touch lighter than you’ve ever felt it. He leans down to kiss you again, deeply. You get that feeling again in your chest, and it spreads outward so much that you’re sure Will feels it too. 

His hand moves to your back, unclasping your bra, and then he’s pushing the straps down your arms until your torso is bare in front of him. 

He pulls back, just looking. He doesn’t rush to touch you, which makes heat crawl across your cheeks and down your neck. Will moves down to press a kiss on your sternum, right over your heart. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” 

That gets a reaction out of you and you let out a small whimper. You think for a split second that you should feel embarrassed, but right now you’re too lost in the moment to care. 

Will continues to kiss down your chest, and the sensation feels electric. He kisses his way down your stomach, and stops when he reaches the waistband of your pants. 

He looks up at you, “Are you okay with taking these off?” 

You nod, immediately reaching down to help get them off, but he stops you. “I can do it, just lift your hips for me.” You obey, lifting your hips so he can peel your jeans off of your legs, tossing them off the bed onto the floor. 

Now his hands settle at your hips, his thumbs brushing the waistband of your underwear. He doesn’t say anything yet, neither do you, but you lift your hips again, wordlessly telling him that this is okay too. 

He takes a deep breath before repeating his previous action, and sliding your underwear down your legs. His gaze is tracking every inch of skin he reveals, and when you’re completely bare before him he’s breathing heavily, eyes darkening a bit. 

His hands smooth over your thighs, “You okay to keep going?” he asks. 

You just nod, but he wants a little more. “Words, sweetheart,” he says. 

You nearly whimper again, and suddenly you’re acutely aware of the heat pooling between your legs. “I’m okay, keep going,” you say, shakily. 

Will doesn’t need to be told twice, and his thumb brushes through your folds lightly, like he’s testing the waters, figuring out what you like. You shiver at the feeling, like all your nerves are finally waking up. He keeps going, and slides one finger inside you, slowly. 

The intrusion is gentle but overwhelming, and you gasp while your body adjusts to the sensation. 

“Still okay?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you manage, as he begins to move, and the feeling creates a warm pressure that builds and spreads throughout your lower stomach. You tilt your hips up, seeking more friction, he picks up on it, and adds another finger. 

The stretch sends a new wave of pleasure over you, and your back arches slightly off the bed. Will shifts his position, moving up to lean over you while his hand continues its rhythm. His free hand comes up to your face, brushing your rain-damp hair away from your forehead, before he lowers his head and kisses you again. 

All the sensations are becoming overwhelming, and the intimacy of it all is making your head spin. You’ve never been this close with another person, physically or emotionally, and the fact that it’s Will you’re sharing this moment with means more to you than you think you even realize. Maybe you’ll realize it later, or in a few days, right now you’re completely lost in the feeling of him. 

He breaks away from the kiss, and he presses his forehead against yours, his breath coming hot and fast against your lips. His eyes search yours, checking. Always checking. You move your hands to the back of his head, and pull him down into another kiss, letting that be your answer. 

His fingers curl inside you, and he hits the spot that makes your whole body tremble, you break the kiss with a moan, and Will takes the opportunity to trail kisses along your jaw, down your neck, letting his teeth scrape gently against your skin. Every second the coil of tension in your belly gets tighter and tighter. 

“Will,” you breathe, as your hips rock slightly against his hand. Just as you’re about to tip over the edge he withdraws his fingers, and you whimper at the loss of contact, the feeling of pleasure draining out of you slowly. 

Will looks down at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, “I want to feel all of you,” he says, emotion and need lacing his voice, “I want to feel everything with you.” 

You just nod, not having any energy for words. 

He shifts his weight, moving to kneel between your thighs. Your eyes follow his hands as they move to his waist to hook into the waist of his sweatpants. He shifts slightly, pushing the sweatpants down to his knees. 

You hold your breath as he moves his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. He hesitates slightly, and his eyes meet yours in the warm lamplight of the room. 

There’s a silent question in his gaze, so you nod again, and with that small encouragement, he pushes the last barrier down. 

Your breath stutters at the sight of him, hard and ready for you. 

He reaches over to the nightstand, and you notice his hands slightly shaking as he takes a condom out of the drawer. You reach up and grab his wrist, stopping the shaking in his hand momentarily. 

You take the condom from him, tearing the packet open. “You don’t have to—” he starts. You flick your eyes back up to his, “I want to…is that okay?” 

“Yeah, yes. That’s okay. More than okay.” 

A second later, your hand is wrapping around him. He’s hot and heavy in your palm, and he groans, low, when you roll the condom down his length. 

You lay back down as he moves back above you, one of his forearms resting next to your head. 

“You’re sure?” he asks again, before he gets any closer. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you, now…please,” you answer. 

He exhales slowly, positioning himself at your entrance, the head of him pressing against your slick, and that contact alone makes you gasp again. Before you can react any further he’s pushing into you, steadily. Filling you inch by inch. The stretch burns, it’s intense, but you love it. It almost feels like too much, drawing another whimper out of you, your nails digging into his shoulders, your eyes falling shut, and your back arching into him, wanting more. 

“God,” he breathes when his hips meet yours, “You feel perfect,” 

You move your hands from his shoulders to the back of his neck, holding his forehead against yours. 

“Move,” you say, rolling your hips against his, “Please, need you to move.” 

Your words become a mumbled mess as he pulls back and slides back in, rolling his hips deliberately. He hits something deep, making that now familiar coil of tension come back to your lower stomach. 

He sets a pace that’s controlled, and each movement of him against you has you gasping, your nails scratching at the back of his neck. 

“Is this good? You still with me?” he asks, not breaking the pace. 

“Yes,” you moan, “Good, it feels good. Don’t stop, please.” 

“Good, baby. You’re doing so good.” 

His words wash over you, and you feel yourself tightening around him. He adjusts his angle, moving your knee up towards your shoulder, making your head fall back against the pillows, and your body arch into him more, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“There?” he asks, watching your face carefully.

“Yes, right there. There’s perfect.” 

“I’ve got you,” he promises, “I’m right here with you, can you look at me?”

You open your eyes. You can still barely see the blue of his irises because of how dilated his pupils are, his eyes burning into yours. 

It’s right now that you realize you’ve never allowed anyone else to see you this closely, or to touch you this intimately. And it’s Will. Will, who you’ve loved since before you understood what that really meant. Your whole life he’s made you laugh, made you happy, made you feel safer than anyone else in the world. And now, as he fills you completely, you recognize that you’ve never felt more safe. You’re understanding now that everything has changed. Your lives won’t be the same after tonight, and the thought doesn’t scare you, but rather it fills you with a warmth and a reassurance so intense your eyes start to sting. This is it. This is what you’ve been waiting on without even knowing you were waiting. You love him, God, you love him more than anything. You’ve loved him your entire life, and now you hope you get to love him for the rest of it. 

When you snap back into reality his eyes are still looking into yours, then suddenly you feel his hand move away from your face and down the front of your body. 

His hand eventually slides between you, his thumb finding that sensitive spot and circling it with slight pressure. That’s it. The tension in your belly snaps. Your back arches off the bed fully and you tighten even more around him. 

You cry out his name, it comes out broken and breathless and perfect. 

He groans, long and low at the sensation, “Fuck, baby.” 

He keeps going, working you through your high, before he sinks deep into you one final time before he stills, his whole body going rigid as he reaches the edge, dropping his head into your neck and letting out a low moan. 

You feel him pulse inside you, and you feel the tension drain from his muscles as he collapses onto his elbows, still above you. 

Neither of you move. He’s still inside you, and you can feel his heartbeat hammering through his chest, in sync with your own. 

You move one of your hands to run through his hair, in comfort. He lifts his head, and his eyes search yours once again. 

“Hey,” he whispers, hand coming up to cup your cheek, “You okay? Did I hurt you?” 

You smile, so overwhelmed but happy. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes before you answer, “I’m perfect,” you whisper, touching his face, “That was perfect.” 

Something vulnerable and relieved washes over his face. He kisses your forehead, then your eyelids, then the tip of your nose. Both your cheeks, your chin, the right and left corners of your mouth before finally placing a kiss on your lips. He pulls back slightly, smiling down at you while you grin up at him. 

He pulls out gently, making you whine a little at the feeling, still sensitive after everything. “I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he says, impossibly soft. 

He quickly deals with the condom, leaning over the edge of the bed to throw it in the trash before he lays back down, pulling you against him. 

You immediately move as close as you possibly can, every inch of your skin wanting to touch his. He shifts so that your head is resting over his heart, his hand tracing patterns up your spine, and he reaches down to the foot of his bed to draw a blanket up over both of you. 

“I love you,” he whispers into the dim light of the room, his voice thick with emotion. You tilt your head to look at him, his eyes glassy. 

“I love you too,” you say, “so much.” And you’ve never been more honest in your life. 

He kisses your forehead again, pulling you closer, hooking one of your legs over his hips. 

Outside the rain continues to fall, but inside, wrapped up in his arms, you’ve never felt more at home. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Will keeps you tucked against his chest for a long time after that.

Neither of you really talk at first. The room is quiet except for the rain tapping softly against the windows and the sound of both your breathing slowly evens out together, coming down from the high. His fingers continue to trace  patterns along your back beneath the blanket, slow and grounding.

You feel boneless in his arms, and exhausted in the best possible way, but emotionally you’re still wide open. You’re still sensitive, like every nerve in your body feels tender, and you’re feeling more than you’ve ever felt, physically and emotionally. 

“Hey,” Will murmurs softly, tilting his head down toward you. “You still okay?”

You nod against his chest, “Yeah,” you say quietly. 

“You sure?”

The concern in his voice makes your throat tighten unexpectedly. He’s looking at you with so much care it almost hurts to hold all of it at once. “I’m sure,” you whisper, your voice shaking, “Just emotional, I think.”

His expression softens even further somehow, “C’mere.”

As if I can get any closer, you think. 

He adjusts you gently until your head is tucked completely beneath his chin, one arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other smooths through your hair. The movement is protective and comforting, and so very Will. 

“You did so good for me,” he says quietly. Heat rushes to your face immediately, but the sincerity in his tone melts the embarrassment before it can fully settle. He says it like he means it in every possible way, not just physically.

You tilt your head enough to look up at him. His hair is still damp from the rain, curls messy against his forehead, lips pink and swollen from kissing you. He looks wrecked emotionally, eyes still glassy around the edges. He’s gorgeous, you think. 

“You okay?” you ask softly, like it’s your turn to check in now.

He lets out the smallest breath of a laugh, “I think my entire life just changed.”

“Mine too.”

Will’s eyes search yours for a long moment before he leans down to kiss you again, slower this time. No desperation, no rush, no panic, just warmth.

When he pulls away, he brushes his thumb beneath your eye gently. “You cried,” he whispers.

“So did you.”

“That’s different, I cried outside, not in here.”

You snort softly, “It’s not different, we both cried, I just felt a little more…maybe.” You say it without realizing it could be an innuendo, but that finally earns a real laugh from him, it’s tired and happy. The sound fills the room so naturally that your heart twists all over again.

God. You love him.

Will presses another kiss to your forehead before carefully untangling himself from you. “Don’t move,” he says immediately.

You blink up at him, mildly offended he’s getting up, “Where are you going?”

“Getting you water, and something to clean you up with.”

You sigh dramatically into his pillow while he laughs under his breath, tugging a pair of sweatpants back on before disappearing briefly into the tiny dorm bathroom.

You hear drawers opening, cabinets shutting, the sink running then shutting off. He returns a minute later carrying a water bottle, a wet washcloth, and one of his hoodies.

Your heart melts a little at the sight. Him taking care of you, making sure you’re comfortable. It hits you suddenly that he’s always done this, but now he’s doing it in a way that means more than almost any other time. 

“What?” he asks, catching your expression.

“Nothing,” you mumble, “You’re just…” You trail off. His face softens knowingly, “Yeah?”

“Sweet. You're really sweet.”

The word visibly affects him. He ducks his head slightly, almost shy, like he doesn’t want you to say anything else that might fluster him. He climbs back onto the bed beside you, “Sit up for me, baby.”

Your stomach flips at the name. He’d never called you that before tonight but now you never want him to stop. 

You push yourself upright slowly while he helps slide the hoodie over your head carefully, making sure not to snag your hair. It smells like him, clean soap and laundry detergent, something woodsy from his cologne, and something warm underneath that’s just Will.

“There,” he murmurs once you’re settled back against the pillows again. “Better.”

He shifts to sit next to your legs, rolling one of your knees towards him, opening your legs up. 

Will’s touch is impossibly careful, and he moves the warm cloth between your thighs slowly, gently cleaning you up while his free hand rests reassuringly against your knee. There’s nothing rushed about it, he’s not being impatient, he’s just being tender, and careful not to overwhelm you any more than you already are. 

“You’re being very intense about this,” you tease softly.

“You deserve someone being good to you,” he says quietly, completely serious.

Before you can even respond, he presses a gentle kiss against the inside of your knee, and that feels more intimate than almost anything else tonight. 

Once he’s done, he tosses the cloth towards his laundry hamper before helping settle the blankets back around you properly. Then he immediately climbs back into bed and pulls you against him again.

Will seems to realize what he said half a second later because his cheeks flush faintly, but he doesn’t take it back. Instead he reaches over and brushes his knuckles along your cheek.

“I mean it,” he says quietly, “I know tonight was a lot.”

“It was good a lot,” you say. 

“Yeah?”

You nod immediately, “Yeah.”

He leans down, resting his forehead against yours, “Thank you,” he whispers.

“For what?”

“For trusting me.”

Your eyes sting again, and you reach up to cup his face carefully in both hands. “There’s nobody else in the world I would’ve wanted like that.”

Will actually closes his eyes at that, then he exhales shakily and adjusts beneath the blankets beside you. Your leg hooks over his hips again, automatically this time, fitting together without thought.

Neither of you says anything for a minute. Then quietly, almost like he can’t hold it in anymore, Will says against your hair, “You’re really my girl now.”

The words wrap themselves around your heart completely. You smile into his chest, exhausted and warm and happier than you think you’ve ever been. “Yeah,” you whisper back, “I am.”

“I love you,” you say. 

You can hear the smile in his voice when he replies, “I love you too.”

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Part 7

a/n: If the smut was bad, please let me know because I don't even know what to think of it. There's only so many ways you can say certain things, and I was worried it'd be repetitive or cliché.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The highway is gray with leftover snow, it’s turned to slush now, tires of all the cars kicking it up as they drive. The sky is pale and overcast in that dull January way that makes everything feel colder than it actually is, it’s that gray that the world gets stuck in mid-winter. 

Will glances over at you for maybe the hundredth time in the last hour, and sees that you’re still asleep in the passenger seat.

Your head is resting against the window, and one of your sleeves is pulled over your hand. You’ve got a blanket wrapped around you that your mom insisted you take back to school with you. 

The car is quiet except for low music and the hum of tires against the wet pavement. Even though it’s technically not over yet, Will already misses winter break so much it’s embarrassing. Not home itself, but you. Even though you’re sitting right next to him, he knows as soon as he drops you off at your dorm everything will get busy again. 

Completely different schedules, his practices, class schedules, meetings for him, endless assignments for you. Different buildings all day every day, and completely new and opposite routines. No more accidentally spending entire days together because there’s nowhere else either of you need to be. 

At some point, he realizes he needs to stop for gas, so he pulls off at a random exit.

He’s thankful the gas station isn’t busy, and he’s more thankful that you still haven’t woken up, because based on what you’ve told him, sleep is something that you might be lacking quite a lot of this coming semester. 

After he gets back into the car, gas tank full, and you still fast asleep; his phone buzzes in the cupholder.

Ryan: U alive?

Gabe: Did you guys decide to run away halfway through the drive?

Will snorts quietly, typing out a quick response.

Will: You both are insane, we stopped to get gas, getting back on the road now  

You stir slightly beside Will, eyes barely opening, “Did we stop?” you mumble sleepily, looking over at him. “Yeah,” he says, his voice gentle. “Just stopped for gas but we’re headed back on the road now. Go back to sleep.”

You squint at him suspiciously for half a second before settling again, shutting your eyes. “M’not sleeping.”

He shakes his head and smiles, “You’ve been asleep for over an hour.”

“Mmm, no I haven’t,” you protest weakly. Almost immediately as the words leave your mouth your breathing is becoming deeper again, and you’re drifting off. 

“Yeah, I bet you haven’t,” he whispers, at this point it’s to himself because you’re already out like a light again. And he realizes, for probably the millionth time today that he’s going to miss this.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

A while later, with you now awake and alert, Will turns onto campus. It already feels loud and somehow busier than ever. Too many people dragging suitcases through slush-covered sidewalks, cars honking, voices shouting from across parking lots. The epitome of what you’d both been dreading coming back to.

Will barely parks before someone from the team spots him across the lot yelling his name, he ignores them. Reality, he thinks, and he hates it. Your hometown has become this sort of escape from what he now has to call “reality.” Even just a year ago before the two of you had graduated he couldn’t wait to get out, make a new home for himself, but now home is the only place he ever wants to be. 

Your voice snaps him out of his gloomy thoughts, “You got that one?” you ask, pointing toward one of your heavier bags.

“Yeah, I got it.”

“You sure?”

He gives you a sarcastic look, “Seriously?”

You hold your hands up innocently, “Just asking, my mom sent me back with a lot more than what I came home with, all these weigh like a hundred pounds, probably.”

The walk to your dorm building is cold and wet enough that your noses turn pink and your shoes get soaked.

You’re talking about something random as the two of you walk into the building and head to the elevators. Will’s barely paying attention because he keeps getting distracted by stupid little things. Like the way your shoulder keeps bumping his while you walk, that happens all the time, why is it standing out now? But his thoughts are mostly flooded with the fact that this is probably the last uninterrupted time he’ll get with you for a while.

When you finally reach your floor, he sets your bags down beside the elevator door after you step out, and for a second neither of you move.

There are people passing constantly around you, but it still feels strangely isolated somehow. You exhale dramatically, “I already wanna go home.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “Me too.”

Your eyes lift toward him, softer than before. When you look at him like that he gets that feeling again. The weird suspended one that’s existed between you since winter break started. He still doesn’t have a clue what to do with it. 

“You’ll text me later?” you ask.

He almost laughs because of course you’d ask that. Of course he was planning on texting you later, he’ll probably call you at some point too. 

“Always do,” he says. 

You smile a little at that, and step closer to him with your arms open. Will wraps his arms around you without thinking. He feels like he’s losing his mind a little because he becomes much more hyper-aware of everything nowadays. 

How warm you are, even through the layers of your coat and sweater. That vanilla scent that follows you, probably from some lotion or shampoo, he doesn’t know. How your cheek nestles against his shoulder and your arms are looped around his waist, hugging him tight. His grip tightens back for half a second before he forces himself to let go.

“Thanks for helping me carry all this, and thanks for driving,” you say softly once you pull back.

“Anytime, you know that.”

You give him a smile, his heart leaps because he knows he wants to be the one to make you smile like that for the rest of his life. 

Then you grab your bags and head toward your dorm, and Will stands there longer than necessary watching you go. You turn once while you unlock your door, give him another soft smile, before disappearing inside.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The first full week back is awful. Not actually awful, just different and stressful, and almost wrong. 

Will hadn’t realized how much he relied on seeing you naturally until you stopped sharing classes. You two would just see each other automatically, but now every second you spend together has to be planned. And somehow that makes him want it more, like putting in the effort to see you means more than what it did when you two didn’t have to plan something. 

One evening after practice, he’s still sitting in his hockey gear in the locker room, unlocking his phone to see if you’ve texted like you normally do. 

“You’ve checked your phone like six times in the three minutes,” Ryan says from across the locker room. Will looks up instantly. “No I haven’t.”

“You literally just did it again,” Gabe points out.

Will looks down, his phone in his hand. “I’m checking the time.” Lie. 

Gabe snorts from where he’s untying his skates. “Dude, you waited outside her dorm for forty minutes yesterday.”

“She was studying and I didn’t want to interrupt her,” Will says, like it’s nothing. 

“You brought her food.”

“She forgot to eat.”

Ryan puts a hand over his heart. “That’s actually adorable,” he says, completely making fun of Will. 

Will flips him off immediately, because the worst part is that they aren’t even wrong. His days unconsciously revolve around you as much as they can. He knows when your classes let out, he’s noticed what time you get back to your dorm after you’re done studying for the night. The two of you always fall asleep on the phone when he has away games, and him stopping by your dorm “for five minutes” always turns into three hours. 

And every time he sees you now, there’s this immediate relief in his chest that wasn’t there before winter break. His brain settles the second he’s around you, he feels safe and he feels like when you’re with him he doesn’t need anything else. 

And he knows that feeling, which feels dangerously close to something he’s trying very hard not to name.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Away games are the worst part.

Will notices it during the first trip of the semester. The room in this hotel is absolutely freezing, Ryan’s been yelling at a game on TV while Gabe has been scrolling his phone mindlessly for the past hour. 

And Will’s staring at his own screen waiting for your reply. He’d asked you how your day was, you already had a big test today even though it was barely the third week of classes, so he felt it was right to check in. He also knows that Fridays are your busiest because you try and get all your work done before the weekend. 

You: hey, my day was alright. i think i bombed that stupid test, but the professor drops the lowest grade so i should be okay? idk. how was the travel day?

Will smiles at your message, and starts to type out a response. Gabe watches him for a second before saying, “You know normal people don’t smile at their phones like that.” Will looks up, “I’m not smiling at the phone.”

Ryan groans in annoyance, “Oh my god, Gabe, he’s doing the denial thing again.”

“You guys are insufferable,” Will says, annoyed. 

“No,” Ryan retorts, “You’re in love.”

Gabe starts laughing immediately while Ryan looks way too pleased with himself. Will just sits there, staring at both of him like he’a at a loss for words (he is). 

“I am not in love with her,” he insists. Lie. He knows he probably is, he feels it, like physically feels something when he’s with you, when he talks to you, when he thinks about you...but saying it out loud to someone else makes it true, and he can’t have it be true because he can’t lose your friendship. 

Ryan raises an eyebrow. “Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“Mhmm.”

“She’s my best friend.”

“Right, we know,” Gabe says, “And you call your best friend every night to fall asleep together?”

Will goes silent. Well him saying it like that makes it sound like something it’s not, he thinks. He’s in complete denial with himself. 

“Oh my god,” Ryan says suddenly, sitting upright. “You’ve never thought about this before.”

Will glares at him. “Shut up.”

“No, wait,” Gabe says, now fully invested. “Holy shit. You actually haven’t? There’s no way.”

Will suddenly feels like the room’s too warm, or too small…one of the two. Because the thing is he has thought about it. He thinks about it all the time, more lately. But before the thought of the two of you being more than friends can fully form in his head he pushes it away, like he’s scared that if he does think about it in it’s entirety something in real life will change, and that scares him. 

Ryan watches him carefully for a second before his expression softens beneath the teasing. “Dude,” he says. “You literally structure your entire life around her, and you kind of have since I’ve known you.”

Will opens his mouth to argue, but quickly shuts it. He doesn’t have an argument, or a good protest, or any examples of something that can counter what Ryan’s just brought up. 

Gabe glances toward his phone screen where your messages are still open. “Just call her,” he suggests. 

Will blinks, confused. “What?”

“You miss her,” Gabe says simply, shrugging. “So call her.”

Before he can protest he’s already reaching for his phone again. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The call lasts until almost two in the morning.

Not because either of you are saying anything particularly important, but instead because neither of you wants to hang up. 

Will’s laying flat on his back in the hotel bed now, one arm tucked behind his head while his phone rests against his ear. Ryan and Gabe had eventually realized he wasn’t getting off the phone anytime soon, so both of them decided to go on a walk around the hotel, ‘to look for a vending machine’ they said.

At this point he’s just asked about your test, so you’re reluctantly telling him about it. “I think the multiple choice was fine,” you mumble sleepily. “But the short answer section was awful.”

Will smiles to himself automatically. He’s exhausted from the travel, and the practice his coach insisted on having as soon as the bus parked. But, as always, hearing your voice smooths something out inside his chest almost instantly. It calms him down and brings him back to reality. 

“You say that almost every time you take a test.”

“Because they’re all like that,” you argue softly. 

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You’re dramatic.”

“Yeah, well…you play hockey for fun so I don’t think you get to judge me about my dramatics about tests.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense actually, hockey is dramatic.” Your voice sounds thick with sleep now, slower around the edges.

Will glances toward the dark hotel window beside his bed. Snow is falling again outside, soft against the glass. The room suddenly feels less cold than it did an hour ago. 

“We got assigned lab partners today, too. In my chem lab,” you tell him. He hums in response, “You get paired with someone who seems decent? Like someone who’s actually going to get things done so the work doesn’t just fall on you?” He asks. 

He can hear faint rustling on your end of the call, probably you adjusting beneath your blankets. You fight back a yawn as you answer, “Yeah, he’s nice. His name’s Austin. We had to do a bunch of notes today and he actually did all of them so he seems like a good person to work with.” 

Will goes quiet for half a second. Not quite enough for it to be obvious, but enough to give himself a second to understand what he’s feeling (he doesn’t). 

Austin.

He doesn’t even know the guy and already the name irritates him a little, which he knows is crazy, there’s no reason for him to dislike someone he doesn’t even know. “That’s good,” he says finally, trying to keep his tone even. You hum sleepily. “Yeah, I got lucky this time.”

Will’s brain is already moving faster than he wants it to. He pictures some random guy sitting next to you in class twice a week, talking to you, probably making you laugh. Learning things about you naturally like he’s done over so many years. He hates that he recognizes this feeling as jealousy and that it came to him so fast. Because there’s nothing to be jealous over, he’s just your lab partner. 

You sound completely oblivious, genuinely just happy you didn’t get stuck with someone who doesn’t do the work…but still. 

“Chem lab’s like…long too, right?” he asks casually, even though he already knows the answer, labs are so long and when you told him that when you got your schedule, he could barely wrap his mind around it.

“Mhm,” you mumble, “Almost three hours.”

Three hours. Will stares harder at the ceiling above him. “Brutal,” he mutters. You laugh softly at that, already sounding half-asleep. “Yeah I know, but at least Austin knows what he’s doing apparently.”

The second time you talk about him somehow feels worse. Will swallows hard before forcing out a quiet, “That’s helpful.”

He feels guilty because what is he even upset about? All you’ve done is be assigned a partner for a class that you’ve made friends with. That’s completely normal. But the ugly feeling still settles in his stomach anyway, unfamiliar. 

Ryan’s always saying jealousy isn’t rational and Will suddenly understands why. Because rationally, this means nothing. But emotionally? He’s confused. 

You change the subject not long after, talking about stopping by the animal shelter near campus because you know not a lot of people go to play with the animals. Ryan and Gabe walk back into the room not long after, loudly arguing over chips, and immediately spotting the look on Will’s face.

Ryan stops mid-sentence, lowering his voice. “Oh my god,” he whispers dramatically to Gabe, nudging his arm. “Look at him.”

Your voice crackles through the speaker, “What?” You’re overhearing their voices but not exactly what they’re saying.

“Nothing,” Will says quickly into the phone, glaring at the other two. “Ryan and Gabe are being annoying.”

You laugh a little, knowing the dynamic the three have with one another, “Tell them I said hi.”

“They heard you,” Will mutters.

“Hi, Y/N!” Gabe yells immediately. Ryan follows with, “Will misses you!!” Will nearly launches his pillow across the room at him. On the other end of the line you laugh sleepily, soft and warm, and Will feels his entire body relax hearing it. 

He feels ridiculous, actually ridiculous. 

A few months ago this would’ve just been normal. You’re his person, his best friend, of course he’d call you after games. He has even before he had his own phone. He’s done it since he was eight years old and begging his mom from the backseat to call your mom so he could talk to you about scoring a goal in a game. 

But now every conversation feels weighted with something underneath it. He loves you, and he knows he loves you. He wants more than anything to tell you because you deserve to know how special you are, and how much he cares about you. But he can’t, at least not in the way he’d like. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

One night after an away game in New York, Will’s sitting near the back of the bus while everyone else celebrates around him, the team won, and now they’re headed back to Boston. 

Music blasts through the speakers while the guys yell over each other. Ryan is standing on one of the seats for absolutely no reason while Gabe records him laughing.

The entire bus is completely chaotic. Will’s sitting in a window seat by the back, texting you. 

You: you won! you won! you won!!! 

A grin pulls at his mouth before he can stop it, and Ryan notices it immediately from across the aisle. 

“There it is again,” he says loudly. Will doesn’t even look up. “What.”

“The smiling,” Ryan says. 

Gabe leans over the seat in front of Will dramatically, “Can we see the texts?”

“No.”

“That means yes,” Ryan says.

Will ignores both of them, rolling his eyes, attention already back on his phone.

You: i’m so proud of you! great game, 2 goals !!! in case you forgot ☺️

His chest tightens. Not because you said you’re proud of him, you’ve always supported his hockey, always showed up for him no matter what. But his chest tightens because the second the game ended, before interviews, before teammates, before coaches; he wanted to talk to you.

He wanted to hear your voice, and tell you all about the game even though you watched every second. Telling you about everything from his perspective and you really listening is one of his favorite things, because you listen with intent. You listen when he tells you about the hit he took in the second period all the way to loading the bus and Ryan almost falling down the stairs. 

He wants to tell you everything, because you care. He realizes you’re the first thing he reaches for now. You’re the first person he wants to tell good news, and bad news, and anything in between. Thinking about that suddenly makes him understand why going back to BC after winter break felt so terrible. He wasn’t leaving home but rather home had become something completely different. It wasn’t a place anymore. It wasn’t his hometown, or the comfort of his own bed after being away. Somewhere along the way, it had crept up on him, that home had turned into late-night phone calls with you. Your laugh in the passenger seat of his car after he said something stupid that wasn’t even that funny. It's Maple curled in his lap while you read beside him, and your voice asking if he’d eaten after practice. Home had become you, and that realization hits him hard enough that for a second he just sits there staring at his phone, overwhelmed by how true it feels. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

By Thursday afternoon, Will is back at school, back to his regular schedule and right now he’s standing outside the science building waiting for your chem lab to end.

It’s cold enough that his hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his coat while students spill in and out of the building around him. 

He told himself he was just nearby anyway, so it was fine if he stopped by to see you after your lab. At the same time, he also definitely rearranged part of his afternoon so he could walk you back to your dorm. 

He’s leaning against the brick wall near the entrance, eyes scanning every person that walks out automatically, then after a few seconds he sees you. But walking out immediately after you, is who he assumes to be Austin. The second he sees the guy beside you something unpleasant twists sharply in his chest. 

Austin’s taller than Will expected, his dark hair is messy, and his backpack is slung over one shoulder while he carries another bag in his free hand. Your bag. Will notices that immediately. He also notices that you’re laughing at something Austin said. You’re relaxed, your head tipped back a little as you laugh, the smile on your face Will knows better than almost anyone. 

You still haven’t seen him waiting against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, but as you and Austin walk down the stairs, Will sees him lay a hand on your shoulder. It doesn’t linger, it’s just like he’s giving you a reassuring touch, like a “friend” would. “Oh my God,” Will mutters under his breath to absolutely nobody.

Because the guy’s attractive too. Of course he is. Before his thoughts can continue, you spot him. 

Your entire face brightens immediately, a smile spreading across your face. “Will!” you say, surprised, and you run down the steps towards him. As soon as you get to the bottom of the stairs you walk over and hug him. His arms wrap back around you immediately, not expecting your reaction. It hits him hard enough that it almost makes him forget about the jealousy. 

Almost. 

You pull away, your hands holding his biceps, “I thought you had practice,” you say. 

“Ended early,” he says automatically, eyes flicking briefly toward Austin again despite himself.

Austin notices that, because his eyebrows lift slightly before he looks toward Will with an easy smile. “Austin,” he says, shifting the strap of your bag to his shoulder before holding his hand out. “Lab partner.”

Will shakes his hand, but he does so firmly enough that Ryan would say it's too much. 

“Will,” he introduces himself. Austin nods once. “Yeah, I know.” Something about that makes Will irrationally defensive.

“Oh?” he says lightly. Austin glances towards you, ‘You’re kind of impossible not to know about, she talks about you all the time,” he replies easily. 

Your eyes widen immediately, but Will can’t place exactly why before you say, “I do not.”

Austin laughs, “You absolutely do, a lot of you has to do with him.” Will’s heart does something embarrassingly stupid at that information while simultaneously wanting Austin to disappear into another dimension. 

Austin is nice, and Will thinks that’s the worst part. If he’s being honest with himself he’d rather there be something to dislike about him, he’s not cocky, or rude, or trying too hard. Instead, he’s good with you, and Will hates how much attention Austin pays to you already. 

“You forgot your water bottle again, by the way,” Austin says casually, handing it over before you can realize. “Oh, thank you.” you say, taking it from him, along with your bag. 

It occurs to Will that Austin probably knows you take great class notes unless someone forces you to break your focus, he clearly knows you sometimes leave things behind, and he knows how to make you laugh.

And suddenly Will feels protective in a way that genuinely horrifies him…because you’re not his girlfriend. None of this is wrong but it feels wrong. He feels like he’s being dramatic because the thought of Austin being this close to you makes him feel sick. 

“Well,” Austin says after a second, stepping backward slightly, “I’m gonna head out, I’ve got another class.”

You nod, but don’t say anything. Austin smiles at you again before looking toward Will, “Nice meeting you, man.”

“Yeah you too,” Will lies smoothly. Austin heads off down the sidewalk, hands shoved into his pockets.

The second he’s out of earshot, you glance toward Will. “You okay?” you ask. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replies. 

“You look weird,” you say, “You sure everything's okay?” 

He immediately forces his expression to relax, “I’m fine.” You squint suspiciously at him for a moment before shrugging it off completely. “Austin’s nice, right? Thank god because I was terrified I’d get stuck with someone awful this semester, so I’m glad it’s him.” 

Will physically cannot answer that. Instead he just clears his throat and says, “Yeah. seems nice.” 

The words taste terrible.

He notices the unsure look on your face, almost like you’re about to ask him another question but you don’t. Your eyes linger on him for half a second longer, studying him in that quiet way you always do when you think something’s off.

“You sure you’re okay?” you ask again, softer this time. That almost makes it worse somehow, because even now you’re really paying attention to him, reading his emotions.

Will swallows hard and nods once. “Yeah,” he says quickly, forcing out a small smile, “Just tired I think. Long week.”

You accept the answer, “You want to come to my dorm? I wanna hear more about your games,” you say. He nods, immediately, he needs time with you, he needs to get back to that kind of normal without overthinking too much of the new stuff. 

As you walk to your building, Will barely hears anything you’re saying because his brain is still stuck replaying the image of Austin walking beside you like he belonged there naturally. And the awful part is that he can suddenly picture it happening again, because it will happen again. It’ll happen next week, and the week after that, and the week after that, until the semester is over…and it’s not even the end of January. 

Someone else is learning your routines the same way he did. Someone else is becoming part of your everyday life so gradually neither of you notice it happening until it’s already happened.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The first thing Ryan says when Will walks into their room a few nights later is, “So how’s Austin?” His voice is teasing but Will is not in a joking mood. 

Will immediately glares at him while dropping his backpack onto the floor beside his desk, “Can you not start?”

Ryan and Gabe exchange one look from where they’re both sprawled across their beds, and the teasing from earlier fades almost immediately, because to them Will looks worse than he has in days. 

Gabe lowers his phone. “That bad?”

Will exhales hard through his nose and drags both hands over his face before sitting heavily on the edge of his bed, “I don’t know,” he mutters. He manages a bitter laugh that sounds more like a huff, “I really don’t know.” 

Ryan studies him for a second, “Okay…that’s definitely not good.”

Silence settles over the room for a moment after that, acknowledgment hanging in the air. The hockey highlights playing quietly from Gabe’s laptop becomes background noise while Will stares at the floor, elbows braced on his knees.

Finally he says quietly, “I hate it.” Neither of them interrupt him, they wait for more but Will doesn’t continue. 

“Hate what?” Gabe asks after a second.

“Seeing him with her.” The words come out rougher than Will expects. “Which makes me sound insane because he literally didn’t even do anything wrong, they’re lab partners but…something about it I just can’t stand.”

Ryan and Gabe stay quiet, letting him talk, knowing he needs to because they know this has been building for days. The initial “Will realizes he has feelings for Y/N” happened weeks ago but this sort of tension has built up now that Austin is in the picture. 

“He’s nice,” Will continues, frustrated. “Like actually nice. He carries her stuff, he makes her laugh, he remembered she forgot her water bottle the other day—” He cuts himself off with a sharp exhale. “And she likes being around him, and she doesn’t usually like being around new people this quickly so this dude must be magic or something.”

“She likes being around him as a friend?” Gabe asks, cautiously. 

“I don’t know,” Will says immediately, and there’s the real problem. The room goes quiet again.  Will leans back against the wall behind his bed, staring up at the ceiling now. “I just—” He stops, jaw tightening. “I know I don’t have a right to feel like this.”

Ryan frowns slightly, “Why?”

“Because she’s not my girlfriend.”

The words land heavily. Will laughs again, humorless. “She can talk to whoever she wants. She can date whoever she wants. And I’m sitting there getting pissed because some guy in her chem lab touched her shoulder.”

“But it wasn’t really about the shoulder,” Gabe says softly. Will looks over at him. Gabe shrugs lightly. “You’re scared.”

That hits a little too hard, and Will looks away immediately. Yeah, he thinks, I’m terrified actually. But he doesn’t say that. 

Ryan sits up a little straighter now, voice quieter than before. “You think someone else is gonna become more important to her than you.”

It isn’t phrased like a question, it’s a statement that he can’t argue with because Ryan’s right. Will feels his throat tighten all of a sudden.

“I don’t know when this happened,” he admits quietly. “Like…she’s always been my person, you know? Since we were kids. I mean we lost each other for a while but then found our way back. That’s ridiculous to say out loud, but it’s never been something I had to think about because she was just: there.” He swallows thickly. “And now suddenly I’m realizing someone else could take my place in her life someday and it makes me feel sick.”

Neither Ryan nor Gabe joke this time, because there’s nothing funny about the way he says it. Will stares down at his hands. “I think the worst part is that I can’t even be mad at her for any of it. She doesn’t even realize he’s flirting with her.”

Ryan snorts softly. “Yeah, that tracks.” Will finally lets out the smallest laugh, some of the tension in the room loosening. “She genuinely just thinks he’s being friendly,” he says. “Meanwhile I’m standing there ready to fight for absolutely no reason.”

“Not no reason,” Gabe corrects gently, “You love her.” 

All the air suddenly feels like it’s been sucked out of the room as soon as the words leave Gabe’s mouth. Will looks over at him. He’s thought about it before, a hundred times in the past few months at least. Hearing someone say it out loud makes it feel real in a completely different way, like now he can’t convince himself it’s something else. 

Instead he just looks down again, rubbing tiredly at his jaw. “Yeah,” he says quietly after a long moment. “I think I do.”

Ryan’s expression softens immediately, “Dude.” 

And suddenly it all comes spilling out before Will can stop it:

“She’s the first person I want to talk to after every single game,” he says. “I literally sleep better after talking to her, which sounds crazy. I know what days she forgets to eat unless somebody reminds her, even though she remembers to remind me to do the same thing. I know when she’s overwhelmed before she even says anything, like I can tell when she’s shutting down.” His voice gets quieter. “And when something good happens, she’s the person I want beside me for it, no matter what it is. If I win a national championship or throw a piece of trash at the can and it goes in. I want her to be there because she cares, even if something doesn’t actually matter, and when it does matter she cares more than probably anyone else that I know.”

Ryan and Gabe are both silent now, listening carefully, a look of understanding on their face. They knew how he felt beforehand but they didn’t know it was like that. 

Will laughs weakly to himself. “I think somewhere along the line she stopped feeling like my best friend and started feeling like…” He trails off, not knowing the right word to use. 

“Home?” Gabe offers. Will’s chest tightens painfully, because that’s exactly it.

“Yeah,” he says, barely a whisper. 

Ryan leans back against the wall with a long exhale. “Okay,” he says gently. “Then that’s why Austin freaked you out.”

Will frowns slightly, not wanting to talk about Austin right now but that's the reason the conversation started in the first place. 

Ryan shrugs. “Before this your feelings were safe because nothing was threatening them. But now there’s an actual guy standing there interested in her and suddenly this isn’t hypothetical anymore.”

“And now you have to deal with the fact that someone else could, possibly, at some point, love her too,” Gabe adds quietly.

Will closes his eyes briefly, because they’re right. It’s not the fact that Austin’s flirting with you, but the thought of you eventually loving someone else back. That would lead to someone else getting your late-night calls, and learning all of your little habits, and someone else being the person you reach for first. 

He’s sure that if he says he’s feeling some kind of physical pain in his chest because of this conversation that Gabe and Ryan will call him crazy. So he keeps that to himself. 

“What am I supposed to do?” he finally asks, quietly. Ryan and Gabe exchange another glance. Then Ryan says carefully, “Well…what do you want?”

Will’s answer is immediate, “Her.”

For the first time since this whole thing started, Will actually lets himself sit with the truth of it instead of running from it. 

He loves you. He probably has his entire life but he’s only just now realized. He wants you to love him back, he just wants you, in every way. 

For a while, none of them say anything. The low sound of the hockey game still playing somewhere in the background takes over the room while Will stares down at his hands, like admitting it out loud drained something out of him.

Ryan eventually breaks the silence first. “You know,” he says lightly, though there’s still sincerity underneath it, “for what it’s worth, I really don’t think she looks at Austin the way she looks at you, I don’t think she’d look at anyone the way she looks at you.”

Gabe nods in agreement from across the room. “Not even close.”

Will looks up at them. All that should make him feel better, and it does a little bit. Not enough to fully quiet the fear cutting through him, because now he’s admitted what this all is and he can’t take it back. It makes everything feel more fragile. 

Ryan tosses a pillow at him suddenly, hitting him square in the shoulder. “And for the record,” he says, “you’re spiraling way too hard over one chem lab partner.”

Will catches the pillow with an unimpressed look. “Shut up.”

Gabe laughs, and Will rolls his eyes. The tension in his chest eases slightly for the first time all night. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

A few minutes later, while Ryan and Gabe go back to arguing about something happening in the game, Will reaches for his phone again almost automatically. He opens his call log and his thumb hovers over your contact for a second before he presses call. 

He keeps up the routine of the late night class because it matters to him, and he knows it matters to you. Everything continues as normal, but despite everything else, like the jealousy and the fear and the complete emotional disaster currently happening inside his chest: you’re still the person he wants most.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The thing that really makes him realize that he needs to do something about how he feels is when he’s sitting beside you in the library, and it’s nearly midnight. 

Well, “sitting beside you” is generous. You’re practically folded into him at this point, shoulder pressed firmly against his side and your head is nearly resting on his chest while you stare exhaustedly at your laptop screen. 

Your notebook is spread across the table in front you, highlighted well beyond anything he can understand. Half your flashcards are falling onto the floor beside your chair, and your water bottle has been empty for at least an hour.

Will hasn’t even touched his own assignment in front of him in twenty minutes, because he’s too busy watching you slowly fall apart (and fall asleep) over organic chemistry. 

“You’re glaring at your notes again,” he says quietly, partially because it’s true but partially to keep you awake.

“I hate molecular structures,” you mumble immediately into his side.

“I know you do.”

“I think they’re ugly.” 

That makes him laugh softly. 

Your head tips completely against his chest for half a second against before you straighten again, rubbing tiredly at your eyes. 

You trust him so completely you don’t even think about touching him anymore. You just do it. Will’s beginning to realize that every casual thing between the two of you feels devastating now that he knows what it means to him.

“You okay?” he asks after a second, his hand moving to rub a soft circle on your shoulder-blade.

“Mhm.” The sleepy hum is all he gets out of you. He knows it’s a lie. 

He watches you for another moment before quietly sliding his water that he hasn’t touched a little closer toward you, “Drink.”

You squint up at him tired,“You sound bossy.”

“Just trying to help, now drink.”

“Fine, fine,” you say as you open the water bottle and take a few sips. 

“You have another hour minimum before I let you quit,” Will says. You groan dramatically, letting your forehead drop onto his shoulder now instead of leaving down further on him. 

He can smell your shampoo when you lean closer, and his entire brain short-circuits for a second because he’s become horrifyingly aware of how easy you are with him, and how natural all this is. 

“You’re warm,” you murmur against his shoulder, and his heart nearly stops.

Will clears his throat lightly. “You’re freezing all the time.”

“M’not.”

“You literally stole my hoodie three days ago.”

“You offered it to me and I was cold then.”

He laughs quietly under his breath. God. He loves you so much it scares him, because he doesn’t know what to do. All he knows right now is that he wants to freeze time and never leave this exact second in time. 

The realization settles heavily in his chest while you continue reading through your notes like nothing in the world has changed, but everything has changed for him. 

At around one in the morning, you finally reach your limit. You start rereading the same sentence over and over again without processing it, blinking slower every few seconds. Then eventually your head slips against his shoulder again.

This time it doesn’t lift back up.

When Will glances down at you, you’re fully asleep. If you aren’t asleep you’re dangerously close to it. Your cheek is pressed against his sweatshirt, breathing soft and even, one arm still loosely curled near your laptop.

He stays completely still, because he thinks if he moves you’ll wake up and it’ll break the moment. The library around you is quiet now, most people already gone for the night. The fluorescent lights overhead cast everything in that soft hazy glow that only exists after midnight.

And all Will is doing is looking at you. Not dramatically, just quietly overwhelmed, and because he can. 

Because you trust him enough to fall asleep against him without hesitation, because you feel safe with him. Somewhere along the line taking care of you stopped feeling optional and started feeling instinctive. 

He notices your hand twitch slightly in your sleep, fingers brushing against the sleeve of his sweatshirt unconsciously, and suddenly it hits him that he’s already treating you like someone precious, like something delicate and important and his. 

The only thing missing is you knowing it too.

Will lets himself whisper, “Sleepy girl,” under his breath with the faintest smile, like the words have been sitting in his chest for weeks waiting for somewhere to go. He swallows hard and carefully reaches over to close your laptop before it dies.

You stir slightly at the movement, eyes barely opening.

“Sorry,” he whispers immediately.

“M’okay,” you mumble sleepily.

Your hand curls lightly around his wrist before you’re fully awake enough to realize you’re doing it. Will stops breathing for approximately three seconds, then your eyes drift shut again, and he’s completely done form. 

He knows you should be in your dorm, in bed, but he doesn’t have the heart to wake you up. So he lets you sleep, until he eventually has to wake you up before you get kicked out of the library, but right now, he lets you rest. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The real shift happens a few days later, and you almost miss it. 

You’re walking with Will across campus after one of his practices, bundled into his spare hoodie because you complained about being cold earlier, and he always wants you to be comfortable, so of course he carries a spare. 

He’s carrying your backpack over one shoulder despite the fact that you argued with him about it for at least two minutes beforehand, but he didn’t give in.

“You know what’s awful?” you say suddenly.

“What?”

“This chem assignment.” You groan dramatically beside him. “Austin helped me study for like two hours yesterday and I still think I’m gonna fail.”

His reaction is immediate. It’s subtle, but his entire body language changed beside you. His shoulders tense slightly. His jaw tightens for half a second, and the easy softness that had been in his expression all evening flickers out almost instantly.

You notice because you always notice things about him. 

“Oh,” he says. Just that. Oh.

You glance over at him, confused, “What?” 

“Nothing.”

But the answer comes too quickly. Your eyebrows pull together slightly, because you really are confused. “Why’d you say it like that?” You ask him. 

“Like what?” he replies, trying to deny his tone. 

You stare at him for another second, and he knows you’re noticing something is off. 

“You okay?” you ask carefully, trying to peek behind the curtain. Will immediately nods. “Yeah.”

You slow your pace slightly, watching him more closely now as you stop walking. “Did something happen?”

“No, why would you think something happened? Everything’s fine, Y/N.”

There’s a weird tightness in his voice that wasn’t there thirty seconds ago. You just blink at him, still completely confused. 

He knows you’re sensing something is off because normally when you talk about classmates or studying or random people from lectures he asks questions, listens, sometimes jokes around. He’s never this cold. He knows this, so trying to play it off as nothing isn’t working as he planned. 

“You’re acting weird,” you tell him honestly. That makes him look over at you immediately, guilt flashing across his face. “I’m not,” he says softer this time. But he is. He knows he is. 

You drop it, knowing there’s no point in trying to get something out of him if he’s not willing to talk about it. The rest of the walk isn’t awkward exactly, because awkwardness has never really existed between you and Will, but something lingers now, and it’s unfamiliar, and he hates that he’s the reason it’s there. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

That leads to the argument that happens three days later, it’s not even an argument to begin with, just all the built up tension that eventually snaps. And when it snaps it leaves a mark because it’s been building for weeks at this point. 

Will’s sitting at the small desk in his dorm room half-listening to Ryan and Gabe argue about something while he waits for you to finish your night lab. You texted him an hour ago saying you’d call when you got back to your dorm.

So naturally, he’s checking his phone every thirty seconds because by this time you’re usually back and so he’s getting worried.

Ryan notices immediately, “She’s probably still in class, dude.”

Will glares at him. “I know.”

“You say that,” Gabe mutters from his bed, “but you look like you’re freaking out.”

Will shakes his head, and right as he’s about to retaliate his phone buzzes. 

You: finally free, back to my room safe and sound 

Relief settles in his chest instantly.

Will: Survived?

You: barely. austin almost completely screwed up our isolation project, but it’s all good

Will rolls his eyes, for some reason the name alone is enough to make something unpleasant twist in his stomach. Frankly he’s sick of hearing it without having any real reason. So he just stares at the message too long before another one comes through from you, 

You: you good? 

Will: Yeah, just surprised he screwed something up, thought you said he was “good at chem”

You: ?? he IS good at chem, it’s just a hard project, that’s the point of doing it

Will doesn’t say anything back, and almost immediately another message comes through from you; 

You: why are you being weird about him again?

Will: I’m not being weird

You: you totally are. everytime i mention him you get weird

He runs a hand over his face hard enough to make himself dizzy, because you sound genuinely confused. You aren’t asking these questions because you’re trying to get some kind of crazy information out of him but you’re asking because you want to understand. 

Will types something out: but deletes it immediately. He knows you don’t see everything how he sees it, you see Austin as just a friend even though Will is looking through completely different lenses. 

From across the room, Ryan’s watching him carefully now, the teasing gone from his expression. “What happened?” he asks quietly. Will ignores him.

You: did he do something to you or something i don’t know about?? i’m just confused 

Will finally presses call on your contact before he can think better of it.

You answer almost immediately, “Hi?”

Your voice is soft and tired, and genuinely confused. Will doesn't know if it’s from his messages or from the call in the middle of the conversation. Usually hearing you talk calms him down, but tonight it does essentially the opposite. 

“Why do you keep talking about him?” Will asks before he can stop himself. The second the words leave his mouth he regrets them. I can’t talk to her like that, he thinks, this is ridiculous, I’m letting it get to me. 

Silence follows from your end. Then, cautiously, “...What?”

“I just mean—” he starts, then stops himself because honestly he doesn’t know what he means, because he’s overreacting. 

You sound more awake now. “Will, he’s my lab partner.”

“I know.”

“Okay...so why are you upset?” you push. 

“I’m not upset,” he retaliates. 

“You are,” you say immediately. “You’ve been weird every time I bring him up, and I really don’t get why.”

Will presses the heel of his hand against his forehead. Across the room, Ryan and Gabe exchange one deeply concerned look, because they know this conversation is bad, bad enough to create a tear in you and Will’s friendship that you both worked so hard to mend for the entirety of December. 

“I just think he likes you,” Will says finally.

The line goes completely silent. 

“What?” comes through a few moments later, the confusion in your voice even more prominent now. 

“He flirts with you constantly.”

You actually laugh softly at that, completely bewildered, “Austin does not flirt with me.”

“He literally touches your shoulder every five seconds.”

“That’s just how some people are.”

“He carries your stuff.”

“He’s being nice.”

“He remembers tiny things you say.”

He notices how you pause after that, then you say slowly, “...You remember tiny things I say.”

Will goes completely silent, because he didn’t think of that. Or maybe he did, and that’s exactly why this whole thing has been making him feel absolutely insane. Your voice softens slightly. “Why do you care so much?”

And there it is.

That's the question he’s been trying to avoid for weeks.

Why does he care?

Why did seeing Austin beside you feel like someone physically knocked the air out of his lungs? Why does the idea of someone else becoming important to you make him feel sick? Why does he suddenly feel terrified all the time that he’s losing you again, but this time in a more permanent way that feels worse?

Will opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Because what he wants to say he absolutely can’t. At least not yet, and at this point he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to say it. 

On the other end of the call, your confusion slowly turns into something quieter. “Oh,” you say softly. Will notes that you don’t sound upset, you just sound thoughtful, like you’ve figured part of this out. That makes his chest ache, because now he feels obligated to say something and give you at least a hint of an explanation. 

“I don’t know,” he admits finally, voice rougher than before. “I just...don’t like it.”

The honesty of it hangs heavily between you, and you exhale heavily into the phone. 

Your voice becomes even more gentle, “Will,” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish your thought. 

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yeah, I kinda do.”

You’re quiet for another second before sighing softly, “I think you’re overthinking this.”

He probably is, he knows that he is that’s the worst part. But knowing that he is doesn’t make it go away. 

“You should probably get some sleep,” you say after a minute, your voice quieter now, exhaustion finally catching up to you again.

“Yeah,” he says softly, “You too.”

Neither of you hang up immediately. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper eventually. Will closes his eyes briefly at the sound of it. “Night.”

Then the call ends, and Will is left staring at the ceiling in complete silence.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Later that night, long after Ryan and Gabe have gone to sleep, and the phone call has ended, Will is still awake.

The room is dark except for the faint glow from his phone screen resting against his chest. The argument keeps replaying in his head in pieces, so much so that he can’t sleep. 

Why do you care so much? You had said. The worst part, he thinks, is the fact that he couldn’t answer, because he knows the answer. That’s the problem. 

His phone buzzes unexpectedly. What’s even more unexpected is that it’s a message from you. 

You: are you awake?

Will: Yeah

You: can you come here? to my dorm

Will sits upright so fast the mattress creaks beneath him.

Will: What happened?

You: nothing bad, i just don’t think i want to be alone right now. my roommate isn’t even here and i guess i feel bad after we argued…you don’t have to come, i’m sorry. 

Will: I’m on my way. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Fifteen minutes later, Will is knocking softly against your dorm door in sweatpants and a hoodie, hair still messy from lying in bed trying unsuccessfully to sleep, and his cheeks flushed from jogging from his building to yours in the cold.

The second you open the door, something in his chest eases. But you look tired, and not upset, just quiet. Your oversized sweatshirt sleeve is pulled over your hand again, and your eyes soften the second you see him standing there.

“Hi,” you say softly.

“Hey,” he replies, just as tender. 

Neither of you mention the fact that he came over immediately without hesitation, so you just step aside so he can come in.

Your room is dim except for the warm glow of your desk lamp and the string lights pinned along the wall, photos hanging from the strands. Most of the photos are of Maple, but the others are you and him, you and your parents, a few friends from home. Some of the photos of the two of you he isn’t even sure he’s seen before, some of them are from when you were kids, while others you’d taken on winter break and printed out when you got back to school. 

His concentration on the photos is broken when you climb back into bed without thinking twice, lifting the blanket slightly in silent invitation like this is normal now. Maybe it is?

Will hesitates for half a second before laying down beside you carefully, and the second he settles in, you instinctively shift closer, like gravity wants you to be right up against him in the tiny twin bed you barely fit in. 

Your head rests against his shoulder almost immediately, and his arm moves around you without him even consciously deciding to do it. All of this goes unspoken at this point, and so for a while the room stays quiet. 

“I’m sorry,” Will says quietly into the dark after a long silence.

You tilt your head slightly against him. “You already apologized.”

“I know.”

“Then stop apologizing, you only need to do it once if I accept it, which I did.”

His thumb brushes absently against your arm through the sleeve of your sweatshirt. The motion feels comforting now, so he knows you’re still there, so he won’t lose the feeling. 

You’re quiet for another minute before speaking again, “You really think Austin likes me?”

Will lets out a tired breath through his nose, “Yeah,” he says honestly. 

“Why?” you ask. 

He almost laughs at that, because to him it’s so obvious. So he does his best to try and explain. “He looks at you too long,” he says quietly. “He remembers everything you say. He always finds excuses to touch you.” His throat tightens slightly. “And he looks at you like you’re...”

Important. Pretty. Something worth paying attention to constantly. 

Will swallows the words back down before they can escape, and you stay quiet beside him, not quite sure what to say. 

“I didn’t notice any of that,” you mumble eventually.

“I know.”

“You really hate him, huh?”

“No,” Will says immediately, “No I don’t hate him.” And that’s true, because Austin hasn’t done anything wrong. If anything Will should be a huge fan of Austin. He’s nice to you, he’s your friend, he makes you laugh, but all of that just turns into a dislike for the guy because of how Will feels about you. 

“I just…” He exhales slowly. “I don’t like thinking about somebody else getting more of your time than me.” He admits. “And that’s childish, I know, I think it’s childish and a stupid way to feel, but after last semester when we weren’t as close, that hurt me so bad I hate to think about that happening again, but instead someone else is getting that time and it’s not a misunderstanding but something more permanent.” 

The honesty in that admission hangs heavily between you. You shift slightly beside him, tilting your head enough to look up at him properly now. In the dim lighting, with you half-asleep and warm against him, Will nearly loses every ounce of self control he has left. 

Because you’re looking at him softly.

Too softly.

You're looking at him so softly, like you want to say something. “Will,” you whisper, just his name. 

His eyes drift down to your face. Your eyes are sleepy but they’re fully locked on his, and your hair is falling across your cheek but you don’t care to move it out of the way. 

Everything feels too intimate, and it’s too quiet. He’s become so aware of you lately that it feels unbearable sometimes. And now you’re here beneath his arm looking at him like that and he can’t do this much longer.

“You know,” he says quietly, voice rough with exhaustion, “I think if somebody tried to take my place with you it might actually kill me.”

Your breath catches softly, because he means every word. There’s not an ounce of humor in his voice, just honesty. Will realizes what he said immediately after the words leave his mouth, but he doesn’t take it back. 

Then slowly, carefully, you curl closer against him instead of pulling away. You bury your face in between his shoulder and collarbone and tangle your legs further with his. His heart nearly stops, but he doesn’t have time to process it because you’re talking again. 

“You’re not losing your place,” you murmur sleepily, “you’re never losing your place, you’re my person.” 

Will closes his eyes for a second because he physically doesn’t know what to do with the amount of affection he feels for you anymore, he feels like he should be holding you more than just an arm around your shoulders, he wants to hold you tighter just to feel you. 

His brain starts moving a mile a minute, but you’re already half asleep again. Your breathing evening out against his chest while his hand stays resting against your arm beneath the blankets.

Will stays awake, because now he’s staring at your ceiling telling himself that there is absolutely no world, no version of this that isn’t love. None. 

He turns his head slightly toward you in the dark, “You know I lo—” he stops himself. Even if you’re asleep you could still hear it, and you hearing it means a risk of losing you and he can’t do that. So he doesn’t finish the sentence. 

Your breathing falters faintly against him a second later, and you nuzzle slightly closer against him anyway, sleepy and warm. Trusting. 

Will presses a kiss against the top of your head before he can think better of it, “Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he whispers.

This time, you hear it. You’ve heard and felt all of it. You heard the almost “I love you,” you felt the kiss on your head, and you’ve just heard him call you sweetheart, which isn’t something you’d ever thought would come out of his mouth, let alone directed at you. You just lay there with your eyes shut, feeling him fall asleep underneath you, while you’re suddenly more awake than you’ve been in weeks, because your best friend loves you. You realize now why he was so upset at any mention of Austin, and why he’d get so defensive about it when you asked, it’s because he loves you and he’s scared of losing you. You never thought this would happen. Not because you didn’t want it to happen, but because you did, because you feel the same way.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Part 6

a/n: Writing back-to-back long parts full of plot is hard. I like doing shorter parts in between that aren't central to the plot. (If you want) send me thoughts (from any era), I'm in the mood to write a little something extra 🤭

⊰══════════════════════⊱

It really starts one morning, early. You’re not doing anything, just lounging around the house. It’s cold outside, well...obviously because it’s the middle of December. But it feels cold and looks cold. The sky is covered in gray clouds despite the lack of some kind of rain or snow, everything just feels dreary. 

You’re home alone, both your parents left for work hours ago while you were still catching up on sleep, although you think a week straight of sleep still wouldn’t make up for the lack of it these past few months. You’re sitting on the couch in your living room, a book laying face-down beside you although you have no energy to pick it up and read it, and your ragdoll cat Maple is lounging on the top of the couch cushion next to your head, purring softly.

You debate on getting up and getting things done around the house, but before you can decide, your phone buzzes. You pick it up, seeing a text notification:

Will: You awake yet?

You smile a little when you see his name, his contact still pinned at the top of your messages.

You: yeah, why?

Three dots start blinking quickly before a response comes through.

Will: Thinking about getting coffee, want to come?

As you start to type out a response, Maple lifts her head off the couch cushion, her ears flicking like you’ve personally offended her by paying attention to something else. One lazy paw stretches out and swats at your arm. 

You look up at her, narrowing your eyes in mock offense, like she has any idea what you’re saying. “Don’t turn against me at a time like this,” you tell her.

She blinks at you, slow and unbothered. She cautiously moves off the top of the couch to lay across your lap, her paws settling on your arm like she doesn’t want you to move it again. 

“Maple,” you sigh, trying to wiggle your arm free. She immediately tightens her grip, curling her paw around your sleeve like she’s keeping you put on purpose.

“You are being so dramatic right now,” you murmur, though your voice softens anyway.

She just stares at you, eyes half-lidded, completely unimpressed as you move to scratch between her ears. “You know I have things to do, right?” you say as you move your phone to respond to Will’s message. “And I know you’ve missed me but I have some things I have to fix.” Maple’s response is to tuck her head further into your arm and close her eyes, like she gets it but she still doesn’t want you to move right now. 

You let out a quiet breath, the fight leaving you almost immediately as you sink back into the couch.

“Yeah,” you mumble, “That’s about what I expected.” 

You: i can be ready in 10 minutes

⊰══════════════════════⊱

A little more than ten minutes later, when you walk out your front door (reluctantly, because Maple made you feel bad for leaving) Will is already outside, leaning against the hood of his car, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. The cold of the air is making his breath visible and has painted a faint blush on his cheeks. 

He looks up when he hears the door, and something about the way his expression shifts when he sees you makes you feel lighter, it feels normal. You used to do coffee runs all the time, and at this point you’re sure the two of you have been to every single coffee shop within an hour of your house. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey, yourself,” you reply.

Easy, simple, comforting, as always. 

You pull your coat tighter around you as you walk down the steps, careful going down the steps this time, because you know if you aren’t he’ll say something about it. “Look at that,” he says, pushing himself off the hood of his car, “you actually listened for once.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Only to humor you.”

He shrugs, “Still, better than nothing.”

He opens the passenger door for you without thinking about it, like he always does. It doesn’t feel like a big deal, because it’s never been a big deal. But for some reason it seems more noticeable.

The drive is quiet and comfortable. When you sat down in your seat you noticed the heater on your side had already been adjusted to how you like it, like he took the time to do so before picking you up. The music is low, and the drive familiar. He glances at you every so often, like he’s making sure you’re actually there, and that he doesn’t quite believe it’s become this normal so quickly after that conversation you two had outside the library. 

You catch it once, out of the corner of your eye. “What?” you ask, turning your head slightly towards him. 

“Nothing, nothing,” he says quickly, looking back at the road. You narrow your eyes at him a little, “You just looked at me weird.”

“I did not look at you weird,” he argues, his tone unserious. You smile, “You did.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I was just checking if you were awake. You looked like you were falling asleep.”

“I’ve been awake since eight-thirty,” you defend. 

“Yeah, well. That’s early for you.”

You bump your elbow into his on the center console, “Shut up.”

He smiles to himself, the corner of his mouth tugging up just slightly, he knows he’s right, you know he’s right, but he’s letting you have the last word on this one.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

When you arrive at the familiar coffee shop (your favorite) everything feels like it’s right. You order what you always do, he orders something new like he always does, and you know he’ll end up having either one or many sips of your drink, depending on whether he likes his or not.

When your drinks are ready you pick them up at the counter and move to sit at a table by the window near the back of the shop. “You’re not getting any of this,” you tell him, pulling your cup a little closer to you when you sit down.

He raises his eyebrows. “That’s funny, because I don’t remember asking.”

“Well you never do,” you point out.

“Yeah, but you always let me have some of it anyway,” he counters. 

You shake your head, but you’re smiling. It’s the same rhythm, the back-and-forth, and the familiarity that’s been there since you were kids is back. He’s always asking questions, pointing things out. You’re more of the listener, taking in things at your own pace and observing. 

“You’re dramatic,” he mutters, reaching for his own drink instead, breaking you out of your thoughts. You blink once, then look down at your cup. “You’re the one trying to steal my coffee.”

“Because yours is better,” he says. You laugh at that, “Then don’t order something you might not like! Or order the same thing as me, then you can have one all to yourself.”

He just huffs at your answer, as if he doesn’t like it. Your eyes flick back up to his, ready to argue, but you catch the way he’s looking at you already from across the table. He’s not looking at you like he wants to say anything, or like he’s teasing, but rather in a way that’s laced with admiration. Like he’s looking at you just because he can.

You don’t say anything about it because if you do you know you’ll get embarrassed and it will be obvious. You two just sit in silence for a bit, comfortable, because you know not every second with one another needs to be filled with conversation and you can just exist like this. 

Will leans back slightly in his chair after a second, finally taking a sip from his own drink like he didn’t just look at you like that. Outside the window snow begins to drift lazily through the air, creating a cozier atmosphere, if that’s even possible. 

At some point, his legs drift toward yours beneath the table until one of your ankles is bracketed between his, it feels familiar, because Will’s always been like this. Ever since you were kids, he’s always gravitated toward touch without even thinking about it.

Back then it never meant anything except comfort, that easy physical closeness that had woven itself into your friendship over the years of knowing each other. But now, sitting across from him with his ankles loosely holding yours beneath the table, it feels different somehow. Maybe it’s more intentional and maybe it means more than it used to. You try not to dwell on it anymore, because you already know what might happen when you get too in your head about little things, and you definitely don’t want to do that again. 

For a second, it feels like something is balancing between you, and it feels like something neither of you knows how to name yet. Something that might not’ve been there before…or maybe it was, it’s just a little more prominent now. 

You snap out of your thoughts when you notice Maple’s fur stuck to your sleeve. You let out a small laugh, brushing it off. Will smiles a little at the sight, “She still shedding all over everything?”

“Every surface in the house is technically hers now,” you reply. “She can’t help it though.” He laughs softly, but when you look back up at him again, that look of admiration in his eyes hasn’t fully disappeared.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Everything falls into a similar pattern after that. 

He texts you every morning, either just to talk to you or to ask you to come over or hang out. 

He ends up at your house more often than not. Other times you’re going out into town, going places you used to frequent as teenagers, just enjoying being back home for a while. It’s where you’ve felt most at peace for the first time in a long time. Sometimes you’re doing nothing just sitting on opposite ends of the couch, your leg over his, just there. 

“Did you eat this morning?” you ask one afternoon, glancing over at him from where you’re sitting across from him on the couch. His legs are stretched out alongside yours, Maple resting on his thighs. He moves his focus from the cat in his lap to you. “Yeah,” he says.

You look up at him, skeptically, “What did you eat?”

He pauses, like he knows the answer he’s got in his head isn’t a good one. “…Food,” he eventually mutters. 

You push yourself up just enough to look at him properly. “Will.”

“What?” he groans.

“That’s not an answer,” you laugh. 

“It is an answer.”

You roll your eyes, “Well if that’s your answer it’s a bad one.”

He exhales, sitting up slightly. “I had something, Y/N, that’s better than nothing.”

You stare at him. You shake your head, already standing up. “I’m making you something.” he tries to protest but you shut it down before he can get a word out. “Before you even say anything, I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” 

You get off the couch and start to walk into your kitchen, there’s complete silence behind you. Then, quietly, “I missed that.”

You pause for half a second and turn around, “Missed what?” you ask.

“You doing that,” he says. “Telling me what to do like you’re in charge of my life,” he teases. You huff softly. “Someone has to be, and for the record, I do it because I care.”

“Yeah,” he says, and there’s something softer in it now, “I know.” He stands up, setting Maple down on the couch where he just was, and follows you into the kitchen. 

You start pulling ingredients out of the pantry and fridge just to throw something together. You’ve always been better at showing people you care rather than saying it outright, especially with Will, because he accepts and understands all of it. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

When you’re both back in the living room after you finish eating, it’s quiet again. You’re sitting shoulder to shoulder now, Will watching something he found on TV, you with a book open in front of you. Maple is back in his lap, purring contentedly. You’re sitting closer than you had been before, your shoulder pressing into his bicep, your cheek nearly resting against his shoulder. 

It feels normal, but that’s the problem.

You’ve sat like this with Will a hundred times before. With shoulders touching on couches, or knees bumping under blankets. Physical closeness has always been part of him, and somewhere throughout the years it became part of you too, your weight leaning into one another without either of you thinking about it. 

The problem is now you notice it, you notice the warmth of his arm pressed against yours through the fabric of his sweater, and the rhythm of his breathing against you. The way he shifts every few minutes, like he doesn’t want the feeling of your body against his to become unnoticeable. 

Your eyes drift down to your book again, trying to get past the page you’ve been stuck on for the past five minutes, because part of your attention is embarrassingly fixed on him. The way his hand is absentmindedly running down Maple’s back, or the way he’s reacting to whatever he’a watching on TV. You’re beginning to hate how aware of him you’ve become. 

Because for some reason it feels good in a way that makes something nervous twist low in your stomach softly. The kind of feeling you immediately try to bury before it can fully surface you’ve never been nervous around him before, unless you’re counting when you were little and nervous around anyone who spoke to you. 

So you try and convince yourself that this is nothing, and that you’re just emotional after everything that happened this semester because you missed him. That closeness seems to always feel more intense after almost losing someone. Even if, deep down, you’re starting to realize you wouldn’t mind staying exactly like this for a very, very long time.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

When he leaves that night, you walk him to the door. The air is colder now that the sun has set, and the faint dusting of snow on the ground makes the night look a little brighter. 

You stop at the bottom of your steps, as he’s walking to his car. “Text me when you get home?” you ask, automatically. Neither of you have ever left without asking the other person that exact question, or some form of it. He nods, smiling, “Always do.”

You both linger for a second, and it almost feels like he doesn’t want to leave just yet. You don’t want him to leave either. It’s like something is just standing between you but neither of you are willing to acknowledge it. 

That’s when you start to realize something is different. Different than it has been, but not in a bad way. It’s not the worry of things being “normal” again after everything that happened in the fall semester, it’s like another feeling has been added to how you feel when you’re around him. You can’t exactly put a label on it but it’s not something you’ve felt for other people before. 

You break the moment before it drags out too long, “Okay,” you say finally, stepping back toward your door. He clears his throat, “Yeah,” he replies. You nod once, then turn around heading up the steps. This time you don’t look back, but you can feel his eyes on you until you shut the front door behind you. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Ten minutes after he leaves you’re upstairs in your room, in bed, your phone buzzes.

Will: Made it

You smile a little, turning onto your side burrowing deeper into the comforter, and send a quick message back. 

You: glad to hear it :) thanks for coming over today btw

A second passes, then the three dots pop up:

Will: You don’t have to thank me for hanging out with you, you know. I like days with you

Your heart leaps at that; and you don’t know why. It's that same feeling you had when you were sitting on the couch with him, and when you were standing on the steps telling him to get home safe. He’s said things like that before, he always has, but it feels different now, and you don’t know what to do with that. You’re unsure of how to classify this new feeling because it seems like it just came out of nowhere. Or maybe you're realizing it's always been there? You aren't quite sure.

You: me too…but i think maple likes it more. she sat by the door for like 10 minutes after you left 

Will: Well tell her I’ll be back tomorrow. 

You: i’ll make sure to pass the message along

Will: Great, now get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow 

You: see you tomorrow, goodnight 

Will: Night, sweet dreams

You set your phone down on your nightstand and roll onto your back to face the ceiling. Everything feels normal again, but the difference is it doesn’t feel exactly how it used to. It’s just…off. Not in a bad way, you’re still you and he’s still undeniably him, but something has changed. It’s changed in a way that you think you’re the only one starting to notice. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

A few days later, your mom sends you to the grocery store for “a couple things,” for the holiday dinner she’s hosting for her work friends at her office. Somehow, “a few things” has turned into an entire cart full of items by the time you reach checkout.

Will is beside you, leaning against the cart with both hands wrapped around the handle while you dig through your wallet looking for your card to pay. “You know,” he says casually, “your mom definitely just tricked us into doing all her shopping for her.”

You glance up at him, sarcasm in your eyes, “You say that like you didn’t volunteer to come.”

“That’s because I knew you’d need help carrying everything, and you always shop here, and they have the good snacks,” he retorts. 

You glance back up at him, rolling your eyes, “You’re ridiculous, but I can’t blame you, they do have the good stuff here.”

“Exactly.”

You finally find the card and hand it to the cashier. Will starts unloading things from the cart without being asked, placing everything on the conveyor belt in neat rows like he’s done this a hundred times before (which he has. It was a long time ago that your friendship reached the point of grocery shopping counting as a hangout). 

The cashier, an older woman with reading glasses sliding down her nose, glances between the two of you as she scans items. You recognize her, you’ve been here before while she’s working, and you remember she’s always been kind to both of you, asking questions about school for you, hockey for him. “You two back from college already?” she asks conversationally. You nod, “Just for winter break.”

She smiles knowingly, “That’s nice. Gives you two some time together again.” 

Neither of you think anything of it at first, you just exchange a look. Will shrugs lightly, not thinking too much about it. 

Then she adds, “I remember when my husband and I were your age.”

Your hand freezes halfway to grabbing one of the bags, your eyes widening. 

Will blinks once, a little surprised, and shuts it down before you can, “Oh, we’re not—”

“We’re just friends,” you jump in, saying it with him. The cashier gives the two of you a look that says she absolutely does not believe that. “Mhm,” she hums knowingly, scanning another item. “That’s what my daughter said about her boyfriend too.”

Heat immediately crawls up your neck, which is odd because you normally don’t get embarrassed when people assume that. It happens so often it’s become laughable, but now it feels weird. 

You avoid looking at him while you help bag groceries because you don’t want him to notice you’re slightly flustered because of the interaction, not knowing how to really feel.

Beside you, Will clears his throat softly and reaches for another bag. “We’ve just known each other forever,” he explains, like he feels the need to clarify further for some reason.

The woman smiles. “Honey, I’ve been married thirty years. Trust me, I know what ‘forever’ looks like.”

Your stomach flips so suddenly it almost annoys you, and your face heats up even more. Will goes quiet beside you, and the rest of the checkout happens in awkward silence. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

The second you step out into the cold parking lot, you let out a breath.

“Oh my god,” you mutter. Will laughs immediately beside you, though there’s something slightly nervous underneath it, “That was bad, we’ve never gotten a ‘future husband and wife’ comment before.”

You shake your head, grabbing two grocery bags from the cart while he takes the rest before you can protest. “She always says stuff like that when she sees us,” you say, trying to sound convincing. “She was just being dramatic today…maybe.” 

“Was she?” he asks lightly. The question catches you off guard. You glance over at him, expecting to see a teasing look on his face, but he’s already looking ahead toward the car, expression unreadable beneath the gray winter sky.

Your chest tightens strangely as he opens the trunk of the car and starts loading bags of groceries in. Meanwhile you’re standing there trying not to overthink his two words. Was she? You hate that part of your brain immediately answers, No of course not, she’s telling the truth. But you’ve never even had the thought cross your mind. 

Will snaps you out of your thoughts when he shuts the trunk. “You ready?” he asks. You nod quickly, thankful for him breaking you out of your thoughts before they start spiraling again. 

He moves to the passenger’s side of the car and opens the door for you. You thank him as you climb into the seat easily, and he shuts the door behind you. He rounds the front of the car and gets into the driver’s seat, even once the heat kicks on and music starts softly filling the car again, the comment from inside the store lingers quietly between you. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s there. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

A few nights later, you’re at Will’s house for a change. His family wanted to have you over for dinner before holiday plans got too busy. 

His mom is moving around the kitchen while dinner cooks on the stove. You’re sitting on one of the barstools at the island while Will stands beside you stealing pieces of cut vegetables off the cutting board every time his mom turns around.

“William,” she says without even looking.

“I didn’t do anything,” he protests with a mouth full of chopped bell pepper. You laugh quietly into your water glass while his mom shakes her head.

“You see what I deal with?” she asks you. “All the time,” you reply easily, smiling.

Will nudges your shoulder with his. “Traitor.”

You smile despite yourself. It feels warm here. Familiar. Easy. You love it, the Smith's house has always been your second home. You've spent so much time here over so many years his family has become yours too.

His mom slides another dish onto the counter before glancing between the two of you. “You know,” she says casually, “it’s nice having you both back home again.”

“Yeah,” Will agrees quietly beside you. His mom smiles faintly. “The house feels normal again.”

Something about that makes your chest ache a little, both with sadness and contentment. That’s exactly how it feels. College has been a rollercoaster for so many different reasons, so returning to a comfort only home brings you, with the people you love the most, makes you never want to go back to a place that you hoped would give you everything. Turns out it made everything change, and not in the way you wanted. 

“You two spend basically every day together still?” his mom asks, although she knows the answer. “Pretty much,” Will answers before you can. You glance over at him, surprised he said it so easily, like nothing had happened. You don’t know if he told his family about the whole situation…but there’s no feeling of an elephant in the room, so even if they do know, they aren’t going to bring it up either.

His mom hums knowingly, “I figured,” she says while stirring something on the stove. “Took you long enough,” she adds. You nearly choke on your drink. Will straightens beside you instantly, “Mom,” he says, a hint of embarrassment in his voice because you’ve heard that so many times this week alone. 

“What?” she says innocently, though she’s clearly trying not to smile.

“We’re not—” Will starts, but his mom cuts him off, “Oh please. You’ve been attached to each other since you were in kindergarten.” You’re now staring down at the countertop, suddenly very interested in the pattern of the granite. 

Beside you, Will lets out a quiet groan. “Can we not do this?” His mom just laughs softly, giving up her teasing, “Alright, alright. I’ll stop.”

When you finally risk glancing up at Will again, you catch the faint pink tint high on his cheeks. Not the one that comes when random people make comments, but like he didn’t want to hear it from his mom. Which is odd, because he never gets embarrassed by things she says, at least he never has before, especially if she’s just joking. 

That sticks in the back of your mind for the rest of the night. When you and Will sit across from his parents at the dinner table, catching them up about how your academics are going, your plans, Will’s hockey schedule for the rest of the year. It’s normal…but something definitely lingers the rest of the evening, especially when you catch Will’s eye and he moves his leg to subtly press against yours for the rest of dinner. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Later that night, you’re sitting on the floor of your bedroom while Maple is sprawled across your legs. Will is sitting against the headboard of your bed, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone while some random hockey game plays quietly on the TV. 

You invited him in when you got home and realized both your parents were still at some work party, and you realized you didn’t want him to go just yet. He agreed immediately, the more time he spends with you away from the chaos that is BC, the better. Here it’s quieter, and more comfortable. He notices you seem much more like yourself; like you’re happier, almost. 

“You know,” he says after a while, breaking the silence, “my mom’s never letting that go now.”

You smirk, “You seemed genuinely annoyed when she said it, you’ve never reacted that way before.”

He laughs softly, “She likes embarrassing me,” he says, avoiding what you pointed out. You notice the tone in his voice is a little more serious than it usually is when this sort of thing happens, like he’s thinking too hard about it instead of brushing it off like he normally would. 

Maple shifts in your lap as you glance back down at her, scratching her tummy. “She was pretty convinced,” you mumble. “Yeah,” he says quietly.

Maple stretches across your lap, paw reaching lazily toward Will who’s still sitting up on the bed. 

He immediately takes her paw in his hand. Traitor. Your cat likes him more than anyone else on earth. “She’s obsessed with you,” you mutter as Will holds Maple’s paw in his hand. Ridiculous, you think, holding hands with the cat. Only him. 

“She has good taste,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes, but your attention drifts toward him again before you can stop it.

You notice the soft look on his face while he rubs his thumb over the top of Maple’s paw, and how gentle he always is with things he loves. Then the realization hits before you can stop it; he’s always gentle with you too. Not carefully, not consciously, but like it's some kind of instinctive thing. Like caring for you is the easiest thing he’s ever done.

Your chest tightens softly.

“What?” he asks suddenly, catching you staring. You blink immediately. “Nothing, sorry.”

He narrows his eyes slightly like he doesn’t believe you, but before he can say anything Maple climbs off your lap and directly into his instead, and the moment dissolves into laughter before either of you can look too closely at it. 

Later, after he’s left and you’re lying in bed, trying to sleep, there's a question sitting quietly in the back of your mind that hasn't been something you think about often, but the past few days have pushed it to the front of your mind again. You’re convincing yourself that you might be crazy when the thought crosses your mind that he might be feeling it too. 

⊰══════════════════════⊱

A few streets over, Will is lying awake too. He’s been trying for the past hour and a half and still nothing. Every time he closes his eyes he starts thinking of little pieces of the past few days. Times you stood closer than normal, a touch that lingered, eye contact felt more…charged? He doesn’t get it, your friendship has never felt like this before. 

He groans softly into his pillow and flips onto his back again, staring up at the dark ceiling of his room. This is ridiculous, he thinks. He’s known you almost his entire life, obviously you’ve always been his person, so none of this should feel new. Except suddenly it does. 

The difference is now every small thing feels loaded in a way it never used to. Now when people joke about or assume you two are dating he doesn’t want to automatically deny it or laugh it off.  Worst of all, now when he leaves your house at night, he feels it physically, like he’s missing something as soon as he gets in his car and drives away. 

He doesn’t know what to do. 

He lays there a moment longer, rubbing his hands over his face…and gets an idea. Advice, he thinks, I can ask for advice or just talk to someone to make sure I’m not overthinking this. 

He grabs his phone from his nightstand and opens up the group chat. 

Will: You guys awake?

He gets responses almost immediately. 

Ryan: Yeah, everything good?

Gabe: What’s up? 

Will stares at the screen for a second, thinking of what exactly to say.

Will: I feel like I might be overthinking some things, and I don’t know what to do. 

Ryan: Overthinking like what? Something that happened? 

Will: Kind of, just overthinking some stuff with Y/N. 

Gabe: Like in what way? 

Ryan: Yeah, be more specific

Will: Well if you’d known someone forever and suddenly things feel different and you don’t know why, what would you think that means? Hypothetically… 

Ryan: For you I think that’s the least hypothetical thing I've ever heard

Gabe: Dude

Will rubs a hand over his face, regretting asking them because they’re going to side with everyone else on this.

Will: Seriously, I’m bringing it up for a reason. 

Ryan: Okay, serious answer? You like her. And don’t say you’re “just friends” I think me and everyone else who has to hear that all the time from you is sick of hearing it. 

Will goes still, something about seeing it written out and not wanting to immediately reject the idea or deny it gives him all the confirmation he needs.

Gabe: Yeah, you spend every second together

Ryan: You talk about her constantly, your demeanor completely changes when you do, and you get this look on your face. 

Gabe: You flew off the handle last semester because you thought she was shutting you out

Will: Well she was but that wasn't her fault and we fixed it, still fixing it, it’s fine now

Ryan: And now you’re texting us at 1am because your mom implied you’re in love with her

Will thinks about tonight again, you sitting on your bedroom floor with Maple on your lap, the happiest you ever look is when you’re like that. And every single time he can’t keep his eyes off you, and when you caught him looking he felt flustered and hoped you didn’t notice. It felt so natural being with you, it always has. He thinks about how this semester was so hard without you in the majority of it. Every shitty thing from the semester disappeared when he was around you, and when he lost you he felt like he was losing his mind. 

His chest aches suddenly with the realization, deep in his chest he feels something.

Gabe: Wait, do you think she likes you back? 

Ryan: I think she likes you back. I think she has for years. 

Will stares at that one the longest. Ryan’s been around. He knows you...he’d know.

Will: I don’t know

Ryan: That’s a terrible answer. 

Will exhales hard through his nose, he’s starting to think maybe you might and that thought is somehow scarier than the thought that you might not.

Ryan: Okay, this is how we’ll know. If she started dating someone tomorrow how would you feel? 

Will’s stomach drops immediately. He hates that thought, because some random person wouldn’t know your coffee order, or that you like floppy paperback books, or that Maple likes to sleep on your back, or that you hate starting conversations with new people but if someone else does it you can talk to them no problem. A random guy wouldn’t know how high you want the heat to be on your side of the car when he picks you up, or that you never step on storm drains because you think they’re scary, and even if they did know this they wouldn’t know it soon enough, because Will knows how hard it is for you to really open up to people. 

He can’t say all that to Gabe and Ryan, so he says something simpler. 

Will: I’d probably feel bad. 

Gabe: And there it is

Ryan: Congrats man you’re down catastrophically bad, which I’ve known, btw. Just never said anything

Will throws his phone onto his bed dramatically. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his eyes. Now that someone else has said it, and he’s really had it put in perspective he can’t deny it. Well he could…it just wouldn’t do anything. 

He turns his head toward the window, and he can see the snow still falling softly outside from the light of the streetlamp. Before he can overthink it, he grabs his phone again and exits the group chat entirely, he’s still getting notifications but he doesn’t bother looking at them right now.

He opens his call log and his thumb hovers over your contact in his “favorites” section for half a second before he presses call. 

The phone rings three times before you pick up. “Hello?” you mumble quietly. The sound of your voice alone immediately settles something in him, like everything’s okay. 

“Sorry,” he says softly. “Did I wake you up?”

“A little,” you admit, voice thick with sleep. “Everything okay?”

He smiles faintly to himself at that. Everything okay? You always ask, no matter what’s going on, even if you know it’s okay you still ask. Because you care. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

There’s soft rustling on the other end of the line, like you’re shifting deeper into your blankets.

You hum, sleepily, “You called me because you couldn’t sleep?” you ask, teasing gently.

“Maybe,” he says quietly. 

You laugh softly, tired and laced with warmth, and the sound hits him right in the chest. He smiles fully this time, and the conversation begins to drift. It’s slow, quiet, almost all of it that half-asleep talk that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, it probably wouldn’t even make sense to either of you if you were fully awake. 

You tell him Maple got mad when you accidentally closed your bedroom door without letting her in when it was time to go to bed. 

He tells you his mom explained all her holiday dinner plans to him when he got home, even though it was so late. 

You laugh quietly and tell him when Maple starts walking around your bed, and settles right next to the phone when she hears Will’s voice from the other end.

Something feels different now, it doesn’t feel awkward, but to him it’s like he’s more aware of something. It’s almost as if it’s sitting between you without being touched yet. 

At some point your words start slurring together sleepily.

“You falling asleep on me?” he asks softly.

“M’awake, swears,” you manage to mumble. 

“You literally are not,” he laughs, but it comes out as a whisper. 

What you say next he doesn’t expect at all. “Can you just stay on the phone? Please?”

“Yeah,” he says immediately. “'Course I can.”

There’s soft silence after that, it’s comfortable. He can hear your breathing through the speaker, it’s gradually becoming slower. Your breaths sound deeper, and after a few minutes he’s surprised when he hears your voice again. 

“Will?”

“Hm?” he answers. 

“I’m glad you called, I already missed you.”

His chest tightens again, but this time it feels warm. And right this second he wants to say everything he’s been thinking, but he doesn’t, not right now, it’s not the right time. 

“Me too,” he says softly.

Neither of you say goodnight after that. You fall asleep slowly, he follows shortly after. The call still running in the dark while snow keeps falling steadily outside. 

As he falls asleep, for the first time since coming home, Will finally stops fighting what he already knows.

He’s in love with you.

He has been for years. It’s kind of silly to think all it took for him to really realize it was almost losing you, getting you back, a few texts with his friends, and a late-night call with you. Just hearing your voice. Somehow, terrifyingly in the back of his mind, is the thought that you might be falling too.

⊰══════════════════════⊱

Part 5