#loveweaving

Mack can't control his laugh this time. It is, he thinks, 13th pic to reach his inbox with the same caption since like 8 in the morning. And he knows how committed Will is to the bit, because he is not snapchatting, rather imessaging.

Finally having a few hours to himself, miraculously home alone, Mack presses the facetime button. Half a ring and the call gets picked up, blurry and loud.

'Hey assholes, give me my phone.'

Somehow Mack makes out Will's surly voice among the hoots and catcalls. All he sees are the blurry faces of Voter first, the white ceiling, Gabe's forehead and wagging eyebrows, the wood floor, Grace's smiling lips and chin and then a very shaky cackling Leno.

Mack can't control his laughter, tries not to let a tiny pinch in his heart bother him. He knows Will, so he waits patiently.

There is a muffled thud, Mack sees a bright blue sky ... and finally, a red-faced Will.

"Fucker."

Will isn't looking at him, so Mack lets himself catalogue the tale tale signs of drunkenness. He already could guess from the slews of pics he received, still, Mack liked to have any information about Will, firsthand, by himself.

Even if it is as simple as getting to trace the flushed cheeks through the phone screen, the particular redness at the tip of Will's ears after about three cans of high noon, and the red, red lips, always, especially stark when drunk.

There is some more walking, Will still not looking at him or saying anything. Mack stays silent too, only letting his eyes roam, greedily taking his fill.

Will sits down, no noise following him and finally, finally looks at Mack.

"Finally got jealous?" is what his boyfriend says for the first time since yesterday.

For a moment, Mack thinks about giving in, letting Will have this, say 'of course I am jealous. I haven't been able to feel the summer on your skin, soothe the parts the sun was harsh and caress the ones where the sun missed. I have dreamt of you every night, us together in the room you've called me from since we have been apart. I have almost booked a flight, to just say fuck this and show up under your window and on particularly dramatic nights, conjured an image of me with a jukebox like those romantic movies you so like.'

However, since they are them, Will and Mack, he just rolls his eyes.

"No. With the amount of pics you've been spamming me, I feel like I am already there."

Will pouts at that, another sign of his tipsiness.

"I am going to have so much fun today" Will tries to look smug, it comes as a whine, "get drunk, go to a party, dance with everyone, the most with Leno and ... and see all the fireworks with everyone else and you are going to miss all the fun because you didn't come."

Will shakes his phone by the end of the sentence like he does with Mack's shoulders whenever he tries to convince Mack to try a new recipe.

And Mack misses him so very much in the moment, he forgets to hold on to the teasing, "miss you, Willy."

He says nothing more, watches as the words register Will's brain, see the way he melts back to the bench, and smile a smile that had Mack throw all the caution to the wind and kiss him months before.

"Miss you too, babe. Really wish you were here."

"Me too. Soon, right?"

Will simply nods, looks at Mack through the phone with slow blinks.

"Have fun today okay?"

Again Will nods.

"Keep sending me pictures."

Another nod.

And because Mack is a weak, weak person and so very gone for his boy, he gives in,

"Don't just dance with Leno alone."

Sometimes, though, it was pulling prank on Mack, wrestling him to ground and using every dirty tactics to have upper hand, to match Mack's stubbornness with his own relentlessness, to get angry at Mack for being insensitive, to forgive him just as easily.

It is in the little things. And most of the times, it goes unnoticed, by Mack and even by Will. But when shining green eyes and sleep soft voice says, 'Thank you, Willy' just because he put a glass of water on Mack's bedside table, it lands somewhere deep, settles inside him in a way, it feels everything is reciprocated - his attention, his care, his love.

Something about not knowing why he keeps looking at the calendar, why some songs has been on repeat, why his eyes catches the airlines app too often.

something about something familiar about missing friends before, but everything about it being different this time, like he left a part behind in San Jose, or in Switzerland or maybe it is in Vancouver.

When mom asks, "How is Mack?" over breakfast, I would say 'I am worried about his dark circles. I am afraid he is losing weight because he looks thinner day by day. I want to teleport there, bully him on his bed to rest for a week or two. And if he gets stubborn, I will flop on top of him and not let him leave.' instead of "He is fine, I guess. Busy training."

When Grace questions over the setting sun, "Any more plans with Mack?", I would be able to complain, to declare, "I want to steal him away, far from here, just us two. I want to follow the rays of sun along the length of his spine, want to bear witness how the summer with lighten his hair, till it looks somewhat blond, matching mine." and not just have a plain "Not really. Maybe."

When Leno teases with "Left your boy, eh?" I would be able to nod heavily, to spill my heart a bit, "It was so difficult. To say goodbye in Boston, to stand at the airport terminal, to let himself just have a friendly hug and 'best of luck for worlds. You will do great.' To not say, 'I want to follow you everywhere. In the fragments of your world, where I may not fit perfectly but I want to squeeze anyway, even if means the part will be out of place.' I didn't want to leave him. I don't want to ever leave him." and just roll my eyes with a "Ha! Shut up, Lenny."

If I loved you less, I would fall asleep with your voice still crooning about the drills you did and a new shot you tried and wake up to your softly snoring face bent at an awkward angle because you were equally reluctant to end the facetime.

If I loved you less, I would be able to throw a tantrum, to yell 'why the fuck are you so far away', 'why don't you miss me the way i do', 'why can't to just come to me'.

If I loved you less, I would be able to yank you to me when we meet again, spin you around, back you against the wall and pour every bit of my desire, my affection, my frustration, even my undeserving anger, from my lips to yours.

Since I can't love you less, all I am allowed is 'Nice, Celly.', 'Yeah, we can train sometime in summer.', 'Of course, I want the season to start again', 'Okay, we can watch the games tapes over the call'.

When I have been made to always work hard, stay humble, you are there to remind me to be proud of myself, that it is okay to relish in the fruit of my own labor. You could always say 'I am proud of you' as a consolation, the same constant I am given from everyone else, but you don't say that. Rather, you demand I, be proud of myself. Put pride in myself, my hard work, my dedication. Somehow, you have just the right word to remake me anew .

When the world starts turning heavy, the walls starts closing in and I am sinking under my own failures and my own zealous expectations, you knock on my door with a 'Let's do something'. And its like I didn't know I needed a mediocre pizza from grocery store, two overly dramatic people falling in love on the tv screen and you breathing steadily by my side to return back to my own body, to match the pace of my breathing to your, to finally sink down on the couch. Somehow, you just have the right strength to move the mountains away.

When I forget at times to just... be... a boy... a boy who is allowed to make mistakes, to have fun, to be careless at times or two, you are there with millions of your hobbies, always with a bounce on your footsteps with a list on your notes app ready. And I just follow you along - get roped in your shenanigans- laugh until my stomach hurts when a Tiktok recipe ends up with lumpy cookies, when a highly rated restaurant had bad food and you rant about negative reviews you never end up writing; giggle after getting an earful from Jumbo for getting drunk in the afternoon and chasing you around with a nerf gun while you pretend you are equally not drunk and try to stand solemnly straight; knock at your door with chagrin because I get too rude sometimes, too hot-headed and you have me stand on one leg with arms raised before you forgive and let me inside. Somehow, you just have the right thing to make me feels alive.

To be loved is to be known, just like how you know when silence and you is all I need.

To be loved is to be known, just like how you know the right time to call before the doubts start eating me away.

To be loved is to be known, just like how you know when to come back to me before I start missing you too much.

To be loved is indeed to be known, just like how you have given me 'us' and 'we' as natural as breathing.

To be loved is to be known, and Will, I have never been loved like this and somehow instead of terrifying, you have made it beautiful.

Will had heen angry at Mack often during those sleepless nights in February. He wanted to do the same now. Because how could Mack just leave him and go? How could Mack not miss him even if he was surrounded by his friends? How could Mack not feel an emptiness when he looks over on ice and not find the one person he is always looking for? How could Mack not miss his best friend?

But that was the problem, wasn't it? Will didn't want to be just friends anymore, hadn't wanted to for a long time. He didn't want to be friends if it meant swallowing back the 'I miss you' every time they were apart from each other, stopping himself for uttering 'Don't get close to anyone else', from saying 'Don't forget about me', from biting his tongue before 'I want you to come back to me' escaped.

Sure he could say those words as a friend but he knows his voice would betray him, Mack would easily find all the feelings he had kept hidden, is keeping hidden that is threatening to spill over every day.

Will is selfish. He has long accepted him, especially more so when it came to Mack. Because that is his person. And he doesn't want to share him with anyone else not when it feels like the whole world is trying to steal him away.

So, he lies awake, looks up tickets to Switzerland, thinks he should steal Mack's skates and sticks so he won't go, looks up wikihow on how to kidnap somehow, wonders if he should get into an accident, so that maybe Mack will stay behind and take care of him.

But when Mack greets him with sparkly eyes, with his teeth and gums exposed, tiny bounces on his feet the next morning and says "I am so excited, Smitty. I can't wait to play.", all Will can say is, "You will do great, Celly. I am proud of you "