#please write more

Also I made cookies

Maybe it’s sudden. One day Mack wakes up and his heart is just… gone. Completely gone. And who does that happen to? Who wakes up and realizes their heart literally wandered off in the middle of the night? Mack spends the whole morning low-key spiraling, trying to act normal but feeling hollow in a way he can’t explain.

Until Will pulls up to the curb to pick him up for practice and Mack’s heart is already there, perched happily on the dashboard like some sentient bobblehead, swaying with the movement of the car like it belongs there. Like it’s always belonged there. And Will leans over, glancing out the window with that teasing edge in his voice. "Looking for this?," he asks.

For a second, Mack wants to brush it off, make some excuse, laugh it away. Because sometimes Will’s tone rides that line, just sharp enough that Mack can’t tell if he’s being made fun of or not. But the words don’t make it out. They just die in his throat when he really looks at him.

Because Will’s smiling.

Not smug, not mocking. Just… bright. Open. Soft in a way that makes something in Mack’s chest stutter even without his heart there. And it hits him all at once, sudden and overwhelming and oh.

Or maybe it’s slower than that.

Maybe it starts with his heart lingering. Just little things at first; hovering a second too long when he and Will split off to do their own things, drifting a step closer like it’s being pulled. Mack notices, of course. He always notices. He reaches out, tugging it back, holding it close like he can train it into behaving.

But his heart is stubborn.

Relentless.

And the worst part is: Mack can’t even be mad about it. Because he gets it. God, he gets it. If he could follow Will around all day without consequences, never having to pretend he doesn’t want to be right there, he would.

But there’s never been any sign that Will feels the same. Will’s own heart usually sticks close, riding easy on his shoulder like it’s got no interest in wandering. Sure, sometimes—rarely—it drifts. On long flights, mostly, when Will falls asleep with his head tipped against Mack’s shoulder, his breathing slow and even, mouth wide open. In those quiet moments, Will’s heart will float closer, curious.

And it does this thing: soft, fleeting touches that Mack can’t help but think feel like kisses. His cheek, his temple, the line of his jaw, wherever it can reach. Light and absentminded, like it’s just something to pass the time while Will sleeps.

Mack tells himself that’s all it is.

So he keeps his own heart on a tight leash. Keeps it from darting toward Will first thing in the morning, from giving too much away, from hoping for something that isn’t there.

Not knowing that if Will didn’t spend so much effort holding his own heart back, keeping it carefully in place, pretending it isn’t constantly straining forward, his heart probably wouldn’t spend a single second away from Mack.

oh my.….this is beautiful my friend….i love the visual of his traitor little heart perching on will’s branco’s dashboard. i’d like to think that even when mack gets in the car, his heart still wouldn’t go back to him. it’s stubborn just like the owner and insisted on being as close to will as possible. not until they get to practice that his heart gives in and comes back to him because it can’t exactly skate around with will (lol) and there’s no point waiting for will at his locker when the rest of mack is closer to him anyways.