tellastoryoflove

Mack thinks about it often, mostly when Will is there with him, especially when Will is this close. An arm thrown to the back of Mack's chair, fingertips drumming on Mack's biceps; another hand gripping Mack's wrist underneath the table, squeezing occasionally before letting go to grab the beer; Will's side touching Mack from shoulders to hips; Will's breath on Mack's ear, on his chin, on his neck when Will leans in to talk to him.

'You cruel bastard.' Mack thinks again, holding onto the neck of his beer bottle so he won't shiver.

None of this was necessary. None. There was plenty of space around the booth, the chairs has armrests, there was no loud music playing for hearing to be straining. But since, Will is cruel, particularly after they are apart for some time, Mack suffers.

"What time are you landing? I will come pick you up." Will had said the night before his flight to Vancouver from Switzerland.

"Around 10", a pause and, "Are you in Vancouver?" Mack had teased, thinking Will was joking too.

A crease between his brow, a slightly squinted eyes and mouth parted in shock, Will had stared at him through the phone screen. The duration of facetime showed 3:22:48.

"What?" Mack asked when the silence continued.

"Are you not coming here first?"

Mack paused, surprised. Nothing of sort was discussed.

"You are coming here. Book a flight." An order, before Mack could answer.

Will was easy going, people often said so. However, they didn't know about Will's persistence at certain things.

'You can't go with Mis, I was planning to go with you'. 'You need to come asap, I am bored'. 'You have to finish these cookies all by yourself. I added extra proteins'. 'Bring me lunch'. 'Don't make plans with Toff, I want to do something.' 'Don't go out drinking with Dickie, I want to try this desert place.' 'Call me when you reach the hotel.' 'Send me pictures'. 'You are coming to Boston.'

Each of the things, never a request. Always delivered decisively, as if it was a done deal. Perhaps not unwarranted, after all, Mack gives in every. single. time.

It was not any different this time.

When he landed in Boston, he had forgotten, or maybe put it on the back of his mind, how cruel Will gets sometimes.

"Let me see you." Warm hands cup his face, raising them as Will stepped closer. The touch soft, careful, not a joke but not a serious one either. It was something Will did, casual as anything.

Casual. Like when Will pulled Mack closer in the morning, half asleep and warm, burying his face on Mack's neck and falling asleep again as Mack stared at the nightstand of Will's bed with a hammering heart.

Casual. Like when Will's forehead landed between Mack's shoulder at the knob of his spine when it got late at night at Toff's house, and Will whined at him tired and wanting to go home, while Mack fisted his hands in an effort not to lean back to Will so the lips touched his neck rather than soft puffs of breaths ghosting over.

Casual. Like when Will's griped Mack's hips on the club, tight, standing closer than they already are, looks at him with darkened eyes, Mack had thought was a trick of the lights at first and asking him to dance or rather, moving Mack with his hold, as he wanted, just like he wanted.

Casual like right then. When Will stepped close, roamed his eyes all over Mack's face, thumbs skimmed over Mack's cheeks and underneath his eyes, tightened his hands making Mack's lips pucker and for a heartbreaking moment, leaned close. And just as if it was nothing, thumping his forehead to Mack's and letting go, casually.

Casual as right now. When they come back from the diner, a charged silence filling the whole way and when the door shut behind them, Will backs Mack into it.

Mack's mind goes blank, body locking up in order to control himself as Will rubs his thumb along Mack's bottom lips, as Will starts breathing fast, as Mack parts his lips and Will's thumb pushes inside, touching his lower teeth then sliding along his tongue.

A softest sound escapes Mack.

Will lets go and steps back, casually, again.

"Good night, Mack."

Mack gets angry.

"You cruel bastard."

Will smirks. And with a wink, turns away from Mack.

Will knows when the calendar on his phone has empty spaces devoid of any plans. It is not quite on the 13th of June as he had wanted, rather a week after that.

He knows it would refute the purpose, going a week after Mack's birthday, however, Will is rather greedy, so he wants to take what he can get.

With anyone else, everything would be so easy - surprising Leno for his birthday with a trip, crashing Gabe's summer house with cakes and a prank on his birthday, hell, even breaking into Voter's house for his.

It has been easy, will always be easy.

Will doesn't know why he hesitates when it comes to Mack.

Before he thinks further, his phone rings.

"Hey!"

Mack still looks exhausted, sunken cheeks and purple eyes. Will knows he had not been sleeping well from the tiktoks and game clips he had been getting at random hours.

"Hey, Mack. What's up?"

"Nothing much. Just planning something for my birthday-"

Mack is not subtle. In front of the media, yes, there is a detachment. But, with Will, he is an open book. Mack has been mentioning something about his birthday everytime they talk.

And Will knows Mack wants him there. How could he not, when the boy looks at Will with hopeful eyes every time.

And it would be easy to say yes, casually.

But, Will knows damn well that it is never going to be casual when it comes to Mack. Especially when they had been tethering in this strangeness since the Olympics. A whole lot of unsaid and untolds, each touch with something heavier, deeper, silence more charged, eye contact lingering.

There is always an extra weight to the 'i miss you' now than before, a nervous pause when the late night phone calls fades away in sleepy murmurs and drooping eyes.

Something that used to be commonplace is no longer so, even the littlest of things.

The 'oh Smitty doesn't like too much garlic' landing somewhere warm, a picture of a rabbit sent from Switzerland with a 'your twin' and a wink that had him giddy for the rest of the day, a 'talk to me until i fall asleep' and watching the lowered lashes and deep breathing through phone screen as he narrates his day.

Nothing was casual about it.

So, Will knows, if he clicked on the book button, something would change. The dance they are doing will come to an end.

Will is not sure if he has the courage to take the first step.

Will is a weak person.

He will surrender to the accusation easily if the result is this — Mack, in his arms; Mack with his eyes closed and body lax; Mack with his lips touching Will's skin above his necklace; Mack with hands gripping Will's t-shirt tight, even in his sleep.

If the outcome of his desperate Please come to me — sent at a time that didn't make sense for neither Boston nor Switzerland because he had been delirious in his heartache to abandon any rhyme or reason — even after two days of silence is Mack's response with a simple thumbs up, his wobbling face when Will picked him at the airport and Mack's prompt falling into Will as soon as the door to the apartment shut, then Will will brand himself the feeble one.

The afternoon light peeks from underneath the bedroom door because he had hurriedly only black outed the bedroom and not the whole apartment. The aircon hums in the otherwise silent room. And Will is staring at the boy asleep in his arms, has been staring at him since Mack had blinked blearily as though he was, too, trying to take in the stock of Will's feature.

"Sleep, Mackie." It had felt suitable to whisper those words, a lump on his throat because it had then hit Will, just how viciously he had been missing this boy, this Mack, his Mack.

After Mack feel asleep, Will thought his sleepless nights would catch up to him, the lightness of his body and the satisfaction of the much desired, added weight would make him follow Mack in the dreams. Yet, here he is now, staring at whatever is visible of Mack because Mack had burrowed in deeper and deeper in his sleep.

Will's whole body is buzzing. His hands are tingling from the need to move over Mack's body, map out each nooks and every crannies, learn the path of each vein, trace over each muscle so he can reassure himself that Mack is indeed back in his arms, that Mack did come to him in the end.

Mack squirms once, twice and wakes up. Will holds his breath, stills his arms and … waits. For something. Anything.

And maybe Will would've given up this hopeless one-way longing long ago if Mack didn't always gave him a reason to hold on.

"I missed you, Willy. It was fucking hard without you." There is no space left between them, still, Mack comes closer. Lips touch him earnestly on the side of his neck then, with a decisive intent. There are no words from Mack after that.

Will takes a hiccuping breath, wets his lips so the whimper that is trying to break out won't escape.

"I miss you too. I was waiting and waiting—", swallowing becomes painful , "Let's not do that again," gathering all his courage, Will whispers, "don't go far from me again."

This time, it is Will who pulls Mack tighter, fists his hands on the back of Will's shirt Mack had changed into before going to sleep, turns his head to the side and buries his face in Mack's hair.

When he places a kiss on Mack's temple, Mack trembles. So, Will does it again. And again. And again.

Tears soak his skin silently. His own, disappears on Mack's hair.

"It's okay, Mackie", Will braves a normal voice, "I've got you, baby. I got you."

Mack answers with another press of wet lips on the underside of Will's chin, just above his Adam's apple.

It is then, Will finally sleeps.