「 who? 」

And there is another melody, but it isn't the same as the one in his head.

It's not coming from outside, or slipping past his wavering dream of comfort and solace, no- it's from up somewhere and it's quite close and warm, like a cup of tea you enjoy beside the midnight rain. It's up there somewhere, and it lingers and pinches so gently at his heart, hits the nail beautifully and silently to push the stubborn dreams away and make sleep asleep.

And then the voice hushes closer, as the bedsheets rustle and the sides creak silently. "Will, are you awake?"

It's Mike. Of course.

Who else could it be? Will is in Mike's bedroom, sleeping near his bed, so of course it would be Mike here. The exertion has definitely pushed Will off his limits of being a normal, logical person who knows how to use his head.

I'm in Mike's room, he thinks, and then the fleeting moment is rushing away, the moment where he wasn't questioning anything as long as he got to sleep.

Now, Will is aware. He is awake.

I'm in Mike's room, he thinks again, and oh if that doesn't make his insides burst with an energy he is all so familiar with – a warm passion of want and need, a familiar comfort, and yet an uneasy feeling he could never place. He is with Mike and they're alone and the world is ending and El has broken up with Mike and- God, all Will wants is some fucking sleep right now.

"Will, are-" Mike starts again, and Will can't help but notice that he has taken his name three times by now. "Are you okay down there? I- I mean, is it too cold?"

There is more silence. Will doesn't know what to do with it.

"I- I mean, I know you hate the cold, and I'm not a big fan of it either so I know how you feel and, I just-" he stops, breathing deeply enough for Will to hear loud and clear. "I- If you want, this bed is big enough for the both of us."

Now he's all giddy, shaking quietly under the sleeping bag because what? What did Mike just say? That they–?

"I just- I feel like- I mean, I don't know," Mike continues on, somehow knowing by Will's constant movement against the uncomfortable floor that he was awake and listening. "It's easier with you here."

It's easier with you here.

"...What?"

Now Will is talking, or rather, he has muttered that single word out of pure impulse, unable to fully grasp the sentences leaving Mike's mouth.

Mike makes no snarky comment, such as knowing all full well of Will being awake the entire time and calling him out on it. Instead, he giggles quietly, as if recalling the meaning behind his words as a secret to his life, a secret he could hardly keep a lock on.

"Y-Yeah," his smile could be heard in his voice, even from up there, "it's always different with you."

"I- thank you?" Will says, because what else can he really say. "Uh, well, for the record, I- feel the same," he holds the words too dearly, then barely covers them up with a casual, "I guess."

"I see..." Mike is quieter, his voice slightly faded as if grasping on a mental train reaching it's destination. Very soon, he is sitting up, looking down at Will, down to the every bone as if all his secrets were never secrets at all and Mike knew, he just knew all along.

"So you... want to join me? Here, on the bed?" His elbows hold his pose as he bows and seeks the answer just from Will's expression alone.

It's not long before Will's brain is on autopilot again, wondering about the soft cushions, the feel of the quilt over his skin, and a warm, warm bed where he can sleep so peacefully he won't know when it's morning already.

But when he gets up after whispering a "yeah, okay" and sliding into the bed right next to Mike who is now lying down facing the ceiling, it hits him.

Holy shit, I'm sleeping next to Mike.

He's too far gone down the deep ends of sleep pulling at his edges to know about it sooner, and he curses himself for it. How can he be so greedy to get some rest that he forgot who he is going to be resting with?

Now he's panicking, he's shaking and quivering silently, and oh if Mike could know whether he was awake or not while he was sleeping on the floor, he surely knew what Will was feeling now.

"You're definitely cold." Mike is now tilting on the side, getting closer and closer to Will and it's not helping, it's not helping at all. "I should've gotten you up here sooner, I'm such an idiot. Why did Nancy have to give you a sleeping bag in the first place?"

Will stammers to get a response out. "Uh, well, it was her idea to get me to sleep at your house in the first place, and besides I was fine down there–"

"It- It wasn't Nancy idea."

"Huh?"

"...It was mine."

Now Will's panic has resided, a warm emotion pushing at his sides as he tilts his head to Mike's side, catching a glimpse of those jet black wonders of eyes, his curly locks, his stary freckles, his soft lips-

"Yeah, it was, I told her to tell the others," Mike is saying, and Will watches closely as his mouth forms gentle, doting words in a voice reserved for Will. Just Will. "I... wanted to be with you."

Will's voice is quiet in return. "We were together the entire day."

"I... wanted to be with you longer."

Before Will could form any more words out of his mind's dictionary, Mike is moving closer, and as Will follows his eyes – his black sky full of magic – and sees it blink. He sees it moving to every part of Will's face, every inch, and every spot he holds makes him burn with that old feeling again. Will realises he might have had this feeling since forever. Since those swings, that first day of kindergarten, that boy who asked to be his friend.

"Will..." Mike says, his black sky falling on the petals of Will's mouth, its skin nervously bit, "I'm so confused."

Now Will is curious, his hand falling in the space between them, inches apart from Mike's. "About what?"

"About me."

"Why are you confused?"

Mike's eyes have grown somber, tears lurking within. "I... thought I knew who I was, what I was. But now, it doesn't make sense. I don't make sense." Now he is reaching in, his pinky finger gently wrapping itself against Will's in their shares space, sending a shiver down. "I want to know why I do the things I do and if they are actually what I want."

Things that Mike wants, Will thinks, because honestly, what could they be? These past few years Will hasn't been able to distinguish between a stranger and Mike, and it had scared him to death – to know you're in love with someone you barely know anymore.

"What..." Will begins, his thumb drawing circles at the back of Mike's hand. "What do you want, Mike?"

It's nearly midnight, and they're both tired. But right now as Will has asked the question of a lifetime, he can't help but notice a million emotions on Mike's face at once. A face that knows, and doesn't know.

"You."

It stops. The moment stops for what feels like an eternity but could've barely been a few seconds. Will's eyes are wide, in shock and confusion and yet completely hopeful and genuine, as if all his reality is a dream and his dreams never come true.

Except now, Mike is interlocking their fingers together, holding their palms to his chest as he breaths deeply. He gazes into Will's eyes like they hold wonders, and gently looks down at their hands again.

He moves their hands from his chest to his mouth, and before Will knows it, Mike's breath is hovering over the back of his hand.

Amidst Will's obvious heart beating out of his chest, his stomach turning before sending a tickling sensation throughout his senses, down to his very knees; Mike is looking, his eyes asking for permission way before his mouth could.

"Is this... okay?"

Will takes a few seconds to breathe, to calm down for a millisecond and be able to formulate a response, an answer, anything at all.

And so he does.

"M-Mike, this–"

"It's you. It's- It's always been you." Mike says, moving in closer so that their noses are a breath away. "I've been so confused, so stupid- you've been driving me crazy and I didn't know why."

Will gulps, the sound echoing between them. "Do you... know why now?"

"...Do you?"

Mike is asking Will if he knows what this is, knows what they are and why they feel what they feel. And Will's answer is simple. It's always been simple when it comes to Mike. So natural that it's as easy as breathing, so simple, and yet something you can live without.

"I... I guess I've known since forever."

"You weren't confused?"

"Not with you."

Mike's eyes widen with joy and surprise, and soon, he is smiling and beaming with an excitement Will didn't know he still had within him. It's not long before he settles down again, his eyes wandering over Will's, searching for the treasure on the surface, close enough for him to grasp and call his.

"So this... us..." Mike says, his voice quiet and soft, "can we–?"

"Yes." Will is saying before he can stop himself.

Mike's mouth is still near Will's hand, their interlocked fingers and resting palms, when Mike takes the yes as a commitment, deciding to seal it forever with a kiss to Will's hand. His eyes shut as he tilts his head slightly downwards, igniting every spark in Will's body.

When he is done, he looks up, releasing their fingers as he decides to put his in Will's hair, right near the back of his head and pull him closer, noses brushing, eyebrows touching, breaths stacked on top of another.

"It's you." Mike says again, whispers so quietly so that no one else can hear it. No one but Will. "I should've known. All this time, I should've–"

"Mike." Will whispers, his hands finding themselves drawing peaceful, calming circles in Mike's back and shoulder. He doesn't say anything else, just stares, and Mike stares back.

Soon they both are pulling in, shutting their eyes and slotting their lips together.

Will holds his ground, keeping up with Mike's eagerness to taste and possibly devour Will's tongue, running deep down and earning a gasp from him. Their hands are restless, and their legs tangled in each other's, and upon releasing the lock to catch some breath, Mike is hardly moving away, still lingering and roaming his tongue over Will's mouth, even biting onto the lower lip and immediately shushing the short-lived pain with a gentle roll of his tongue again.

Will is a little into the stubborn sweet form of his affection, and so when they take a two-second break again, he is taking full advantage of the opportunity to shower Mike with kisses all over. His rosy cheeks, his stary freckles, his nose, his neck and finally, his lips again. He is soft with his moves, purely deeply madly in love in the entire concept of Mike. In everything about Mike.

Mike smiles against the kisses, holding Will closer and immediately planting another long kiss on his lips, this time while subtly smiling through it, as if he has achieved everything he has ever wanted in his life.

But soon their eyelids are getting heavier, and it's then they remember: It's midnight. They just came back from a long drive across the country. They're both tired.

Mike digs his face in Will's chest, his voice grown silent as sleep pushes at his edges. His arm wraps around Will's middle as his eyes shut to sleep, before he murmurs one last sentence of the night:

"I want to be with you longer. Forever."

Will blushes, smiling as he pulls Mike close to his chest, their breaths synching and hearts pounding at the same, fast pace, gently falling into a slower, quieter rhythm.

It's just, a part of me wishes that you don't read this, ever. Part of me that wants you free, away from the curse this town is. I'm writing this a day before my impending death, so yes, I'm cursed. Just like... just like you used to be. So, I don't want you to face this again, now that I know what it's like. It sucks that I had to find out about it this way.

It's crazy. The day we first met, you were stalking me with those idiots, and I say idiots because it doesn't include you. You were always... different. At first glance you were shy, introverted, observing, yet you became so much more as we hung out, or maybe that's how you always were.

I remember so clearly that one time I muttered "god, she's such a suck-up" about one of our classmates and you said "pfft, totally", and I was so shocked as I found out it was you who said it.

We started, as El likes to say, bitchin' about others with no hard feelings, and it was so easy, so simple, and soon, we didn't need words, just a single eye-roll towards an unpleasant thing and we knew, we just knew.

But even with this bond of sarcasm, at your core, you were... unclear. It's like you've hidden yourself for so long that you forgot how to be real. It was then that I knew that even after these months of snarky comments and dramatic eye-rolls that we shared, I hardly knew you.

But.

But honestly, I was lying. Deep down, I did know you. I just didn't want to accept it without knowing it from you.

I wish I had more time to talk. I wish I didn't become this monster who pushed everyone in her life away because of her guilt. I wish you were here, dragging us all back and talking about friendship and all that bullshit. But time is running out now. I wanted to hear it from you before I confirmed my words. There's no taking them back now, so it is what it is.

I know you, Will. Like, really really know you. Back in the cinema, the DnD game I heard from Lucas, the time at the hospital, the sauna, when you left for Cali, everything. And maybe, even before that. Maybe I knew the day I saw you with those idiots for the first time. Maybe a little from here and there, and even with us, our judgemental looks towards others as we laughed, cried at jokes and roasted the hell out of Dustin's Cerebro with Lucas on the way back, I could see. I could see you. I still see you, Will.

I don't know how you're doing today, if you still feel the same aching in your chest as you showed in your expression, the same tears you fought back when he kept his distance, or when you searched for meaning nowhere but there: his face, his eyes, his smile. Him.

You know who I'm talking about. (And I'm still very surprised, not because of you, but because- him? Really? God, Will, I thought you had higher standards).

But still, even with the maddening voices of every single person you must've heard from about how its wrong (it isn't), breathe. Remember to breathe. That air you've been holding in for so long, that face you've been hiding behind smiles and laughs, those words you've buried deep – breathe, let it out to someone, anyone who makes you feel better for who you are. If I was still here, I would've gladly been that person, Will.

...

Honestly, Will, I'm scared right now. I've not admitted this in any of the other letters but, I'm scared. I'm going to die tomorrow. This is my last chance at a life I've wasted, a life that has wasted me. A part of me wishes something terrible happens to me, and I've wished that each night, every moment, since Billy. But still, being so close to a choice I can no longer make myself, I'm scared.

How did you do it?

Okay, sorry, no, I shouldn't be asking you this, you clearly don't like talking about it. It's a sensitive topic. I'm sorry.

Still, I think about it. How you did it. How you escaped. Did you run? Did you fight? Did you hide? Will, can I do it? Can I escape?

...What am I even saying. If this letter is in your hands, that means I didn't, right?

But, a part of me still hopes, writing this to you, for a miracle. Something, anything, that'll save me. Because like it or not, I've grown to like all of you, even if I've never shown it affectionately (yes, even that idiot you have a crush on, don't tell him).

I hope, no, I know you'll be happy. And I hope somehow, in these wicked worlds of monsters and superheroes, I could see it, that genuine smile on your face that I've only ever imagined. I sure hopes it looks the same as I think: gross (kidding).

Love, your no-goodie-two-shoes

Max

---------------

Will sits in the uncomfortable hospital chair, letter in his hand, shaking as he sobs and weeps, trying to hold back the sounds as he looks at the cold face of his lost friend.

"Max..." He can barely say without cracking his tone, words lost in his head as he carefully tucks the letter close to his heart, believing that each word, each sentence belonged there, right there. He is delicate with his tears, making sure they don't smudge the ink on the paper and destroy this precious gift: her true words.

Her arms stay on her sides, having nowhere to go, and Will gently slides a hand into her own, holding on, trying to feel the warmth that exists somewhere deep in her soul, even in a body that seems so lifeless. He searches, closes his eyes and feels if she is in any danger, if his neck tingles and alerts him of it. It doesn't. He's not sure if it's because she's safe, or if he no longer has the ability to sense.

He remembers the letter.

Will, can I do it? Can I escape?

"You can," he whispers, deep into the night as he recalls their group sleepovers in the basement, how she sneaked into the kitchen to make a midnight snack and Will caught her, everytime, and she stared, not-so-guilty before saying want some? and Will rolled his eyes, only if it's PBJs.