#send it

will stands from his stall and walks over to mack’s. he watches will absentmindedly tuck his chain under his base layers as he walks, the gesture almost automatic. mack can still see the outline of the pendants, though—can see the circle of the rosary, the shape of the cross as it peeks through the material, and mack can’t help but wonder what it’d look like close up. like, really close up. close enough that he can see the grooves of his st. christopher’s medallion, close enough to see if he can taste the metal ridges of will’s rosary ring through the nylon fabric.

mack’s mouth waters.

“you hungry?”

mack blinks, staring up at will. “i- what?”

will’s still smacking his gum, tilting his head at mack when he goes, “down for chipper later? after practice?”

“oh. yeah. yeah man i’m down.”

“kay,” will nods, before he flicks his eyes above mack and goes, “oh dude, can i just-”

will cuts himself off, reaching just past mack and over to the cubby above him. the sudden movement causes his shirt to dip, just enough so that the pendants are slipping out from the collar and hanging precariously in front of mack instead.

they swing a little, back and forth, and he can smell it, mack thinks deliriously—the metal of the pendants and something else, something sharper. less from the chain and more from the slight sheen of sweat on will’s neck. mack’s lips part, and the cross brushes against mack’s top lip. when will pulls back, the cross is gone, and mack’s grip tape is in his hand.

“d’you mind if i borrow some? i ran out.” will waves the white roll in front of mack. the cross dangles along with the medallion and the ring before settling between the divot of will’s pecs. mack licks his lips, and thinks, deranged, that he can taste the metal of will’s cross on his tongue.

mack nods, trying to go for absentminded and not like he’s two seconds away from pulling at will’s chain with his teeth. when he speaks he barely registers the sound, his voice sounding like it’s coming from another room.

“sure, go for it.”

“thanks mackie,” will grins, and the smacking pauses as he brandishes the pale mint gum between his molars. he’s playing with the roll in his hand as he continues, “i’m thinking we can just pick up the food on the way to mine, is that cool?”

“sure,” mack repeats.

will doesn’t respond for a second, tilting his head a little as he watches mack. he looks like he’s trying to figure something out, gum chewing slowing. mack tries to look unbothered, nonchalant, his mouth already folding into that weird straight line it does when he gets even slightly uncomfortable.

“you good?” will asks. he starts leaning his weight on either skate, and the chain moves with him, pendants sliding across the links. mack’s eyes drop immediately, tracking them like a man hypnotized.

mack should feel embarrassed. but instead he just feels fucking—he feels fucking crazy, body thrumming with something he can’t name. he can feel it flow through his veins, chasing the feeling until mack can feel the buzz in his teeth. for a second, he wonders if will would let him. would he let mack get close enough to see? to touch? to let mack drag his teeth against the links of his necklace?

would will let mack trace the grooves of his saint, until mack’s pressing the image of st. christopher on his tongue?

would it taste like will, like metal and sandalwood and sweat?

“mack.”

mack startles, blinking back up at will. “yeah?”

will doesn’t answer for a second, quiet as he stares at him with an expression mack can’t read. slowly, he raises a hand and hooks a finger under the chain, dragging down, down, until the crease of his knuckle meets the pendants. mack watches, deranged, as will pulls, like he’s adjusting a collar, before grabbing them, sliding the chain back under his base layers.

mack barely registers the small sound that escapes his throat, breathy and soft.

when he drags his eyes back up to will’s, he’s watching mack with dark eyes, almost amused.

“you good?” will repeats. it sounds less like a question this time around.

mack tries to nod, but his head feels too heavy, like a weight had settled in his skull.

he hopes the message is sent across anyway, because will hums, almost contemplating. he stays for another second or two before he turns, walking back to his cubby. mack swears he can see the corner of will’s lips curl upwards.

when the fog clears, mack is left buzzing, hot, with a half-chub pushing uncomfortably against his jock. he tries to clear his head, hands shaking as he leans down to tie his skates.