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holyvirgilscriptures · 11 months

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as if it's your last

Will used to kiss Mike as if it were his last.

During the days of the apocalypse, when they first got together — well, that was to be expected. Because any day could have been their final time on Earth. Any breath could have been the final one they took. And as such, any kiss could have been their final kiss.

Will poured all of his passion into those kisses. Searing, hot touches as his lips pressed firmly against Mike’s. The flames in his stomach that only burned brighter as Mike pulled him closer to his chest. The way sparks shot through his veins as he slipped his tongue between Mike’s lips. When Mike’s hands would find their way under his shirt and creep up over his bare skin, mapping it out with his large palms, spreading heat wherever they roamed. And in turn, Will’s fingers would trace the freckles that dotted over Mike’s chest and back, and he was sure — as Mike shuddered and whimpered — that Mike felt as though Will was leaving trails of fire with every scrape of his nails.

Sometimes he wondered, with all the ferocity in their bodies as they kissed, if the apocalypse lived within them. Hawkins had been reduced to smoke and hellfire, after all. So it didn’t surprise Will that kissing Mike, loving Mike, had felt the same way.

Smoke and hellfire. Ashes and sparks. Will feeling like a goddamn live wire! He felt as though he and Mike were destined to burn brighter than the sun… but burn out faster than a candle.

Then the apocalypse ended. It ended with a bang, sure — all the death and decay and destruction irreversible — but it still ended.

It ended, and then soon enough Hawkins was in the process of being rebuilt. It wasn’t easy — it was a strenuous task, and all hands were needed on deck.

And Will still kissed Mike as if it were his last.

He reasoned that, well, even though Vecna had been defeated, even though the skies of Hawkins were no longer a sickening blood-red… things weren’t really back to normal, were they? Even if they succeeded in rebuilding all the destroyed infrastructure, nothing could erase the fear and horror lingering in their souls. It was indelible, like an ink stain you couldn’t wash out, like a burn wound that would never heal. And it wasn’t just the Party, or the extended members, or the ones who had fought Vecna face to face — though he supposed that they got the brunt of the trauma. But Will saw the terror and anxiety in the eyes of each and every civilians, whenever they passed by the food shelter he was volunteering at.

Anyway, Will still kissed Mike like flash fire. During the day, they were were swamped with their duties volunteering at the shelter. What little free time was provided to them was duly spent inside locked storage closets that were cold and grimy, but it didn’t matter because, well, they were together — and the quick kisses warmed them up anyway.

Sleepovers became a much more frequent experience. Mostly because at night, both of them were plagued by nightmares, and they were able to seek comfort in each other’s arms almost instantaneously. The nights were cold, too — somehow turned even colder after the apocalypse — and underneath their shared blankets, they found untapped heat in their souls, and shared it with each other with every kiss, every touch, every gasp, every whimper.

Sometime between the first and perhaps the hundredth day after the apocalypse ended, the kisses changed. Just a little bit, Will thought. The fire still raged within them, red-hot and fierce, but the flames no longer felt as tall as a twenty-story building.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was Hawkins. It took ages upon ages, but soon enough — it had been done. It wasn’t perfect — nothing is — but it was the best that they could do. The cement poured over the cracks caused by the gates was a little wonky, and some of the houses had uneven paint jobs, and there were days where the lights would still sometimes flicker and go out — but for all intents and purposes, Hawkins was restored.

And normalcy began trickling in like droplets from the tap, until it built up more and more — and then the floodgates burst open, and water streamed out everywhere. A sense of security had swept through Hawkins like a gentle tide wave, and though people were hesitant to latch on at first, they realized that they needed to move on. They couldn’t stay trapped in the brimstone hell that the apocalypse had dawned on their town. They had to be fluid like water itself, and pursue their future, lest they get left behind and drown.

Life seemed to take its cue again. People walked their dogs along the sidewalks, or they skateboarded in the park, or they went to school and complained about their teachers. Birds sat on windowsills and sung their tunes. The sun had never shone brighter.

But Will still kissed Mike as if it were his last.

They’re together now, sitting inside a rebuilt and renovated Castle Byers. The day felt more special than other days — it was raining, after all. Rain was a rare occurrence, because it felt like every other day was a beautiful and sunny one, with the sky an endless expanse of bright blue.

They’d been making out, as per usual for two teenagers. Will had his back flat on the mattress that covered the floor of Castle Byers, and Mike had been hovering over him, hands pressed against Will’s shoulders. The space between them was nonexistent — exactly the way Will liked it.

“Shit,” Mike whispered, sitting himself up, letting their mouths separate. That was something Will did not like. He sat up as well, following Mike’s movements, and, wrapping his arm around Mike’s waist, trailed open-mouthed kisses down his jawline and neck.

“Hmm?” he hummed, sucking a hickey onto Mike’s pale skin.

Mike let out a shaky breath, but continued. “It’s raining,” he pointed out.

“Astute observation,” Will deadpanned.

Mike rolled his eyes good-naturedly and huffed out a laugh. “You’re the worst,” he declared.

“Sure I am,” Will replied, waggling his eyebrows at Mike. Mike laughed again and pushed Will back onto the floor, resuming their kissing.

Nowadays, the hotness of their kisses felt more manageable, like the radiant heat of a snug fireplace. But in spite of the gentleness of that label, Will still knew the truth — it was still fire. Like a moth drawing closer to a lantern — like Icarus flying too close to the sun — no matter how cozy it felt, he could still burn himself.

Will focused deeply on the sensation of kissing Mike. They’d been together for quite a while now — a year or so, he vaguely remembers, his memories hazy as his brain is occupied with the feeling of Mike, Mike, Mike all over him. His hands were cold, which was a change, for once, but Will found that he didn’t mind the brief chill as Mike’s fingers touched his stomach. Will wrapped his arms around Mike’s neck and pulled him ever-closer, which seemed impossible, but whatever. Will wouldn’t mind if they somehow melted together into one being. (Wasn’t that what soulmates were, anyway? Two vessels that shared one soul?)

Will let out a moan as Mike’s tongue slipped into his mouth. His legs were moving restlessly now, and Will’s hands were bunching Mike’s shirt, tugging and pulling at it wordlessly. Mike chuckled, but made no attempt to follow what was clearly on Will’s mind. Will grunted, and started squirming, not knowing what to do with all this pent-up energy, all this stored love—

CRASH! Thunder clapped in the distance, and Will, startled by the sudden noise, bit hard on Mike’s tongue.

“Mmph!” Mike reeled back and sat up, wiping his mouth. His pupils were blown and his eyes were wide as he stared at Will in surprise.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Will hastened to say, sitting up and getting Mike off of him, so that they were both kneeling and facing each other. “Did I hurt you?” he asked frantically when Mike kept wiping his mouth.

“Mmm…” Mike rolled his tongue inside his mouth, then shook his head. “Nah, I’m fine. No blood or anything.”

Will sighed in relief, and stared at his lap, grateful that his actions, even if it were on accident, hadn’t injured his boyfriend. “That’s good,” he mumbled.

Mike smirked at him. “Well, I’m used to my boyfriend biting me, so—“

“Oh my god! Shut up!” Will yelped out, feeling his face flush scarlet. Mike, the utter traitor, had the gall to just laugh at him, so Will smacked him on the shoulder, which caused Mike to whine like a child.

“I’m serious!” Mike insisted, rubbing the area where Will had hit him. “I mean, hell, Will, every time you kiss me, it’s — it’s like it’s your last, or something!”

That stopped Will in his tracks. The playful grin on his face immediately fell off, and was replaced with something a lot more contemplative. Because, yeah, Will knew he kissed Mike that way, but it was a lot more different when his boyfriend actually said it out loud. It was a lot realer now — it was something Will had to confront.

Mike seemed to have picked up on the sudden atmospheric shift between them. He shifted closer to Will and prodded him gently. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, in that soft voice that Will always loved him for.

Castle Byers wasn’t waterproof. It was leaky, and Will could feel some of the rain droplets falling atop his head. He glanced at Mike, whose eyes were wide with concern and, more importantly, patience. That made Will’s heart swell up like a helium balloon. The way that Mike was always so considerate with him, never forcing him to do anything he didn’t want to do.

He shook his head and chuckled ruefully. “Nothing. Well I mean—“ Will sighed, “I guess I still kiss you like that, huh?”

When Mike didn’t reply, Will continued, “I mean, I think I’ve been kissing you like that the whole time. And like, I understood why I kissed you like that when we first got together — we were literally in a war, after all — and I even understood why even when the war ended, because things were still falling back into place and it wasn’t truly normal yet. But now…” He sighed again and looked at Mike, who only nodded at him, encouraging him to go on.

Will inhaled shakily. “Now, I mean, things are normal — or, well, as normal as they could be, and like, I don’t know. I don’t know why I still kiss you like it’s my last. I mean, everything is as it should be. We’re safe now. Nothing will hurt us.” He reached out and squeezed Mike’s hand, conveying his real meaning: I won’t let anything hurt you.

Mike squeezed back, showing that he understood, and felt the exact same way. The two of them stayed like that for a while, silence only brokered by the sound of the rain, which looked to be picking up outside.

Then, Mike whispered, “I don’t mind. I mean, I think… Do you think it’s because… Well, I mean, the Upside Down fucked you up more than anyone, I feel like. So I understand if — if the reason you still kiss me like your last has to do with that shit.”

Will thought about it for a while. “That makes some sense,” he agreed. “But I feel like that’s only part of it. Like there’s another reason, a bigger one, and I just can’t quite wrap my head around it.”

Dramatically, Will let out a groan and flopped back onto the mattress, closing his eyes. Mike chuckled at his boyfriend’s hysterics, before draping himself over him. Their chests were pressed together, and Will could still feel the vibrations of Mike’s laughter. More importantly, he could feel Mike’s warm breath fanning over his face, and his slow and steady heartbeat. He felt Mike hold his hand, felt Mike stroke the back of it with his thumb, all soft and warm. He felt nothing but warm, even as the cold breeze swept into the open door of Castle Byers, even as rain drops fell through the roof. He felt peace, and love — so much goddamn love, Will felt he could burst with it. And he felt like he never wanted to be without this ever again.

Will’s eyes flew open.

Oh.

That was why.

Mike glanced up at Will, chin digging into Will’s chest, as if he could sense the change in Will’s emotion. “What’s up?” he asked.

“I think…” Will said as he brought his hand to Mike’s back, stroking it slowly, “I think that I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

He could feel Mike’s confusion, so he stopped staring at the ceiling, and instead looked into his boyfriend’s deep brown eyes. “I mean, you know… I thought for a long time that I couldn’t have this.” He pressed his palm harder against Mike’s back, as if solidifying to himself that this is, indeed, real. “I thought that I couldn’t have you, or have anything I wanted — which was, well, everything I wanted was you, but anyway. I couldn’t be with the boy I loved — you — and most people like me — like us — couldn’t have love in general, because that was the reality of our situations.”

Will let out a shuddery breath, and Mike left a gentle kiss on his sternum. Will went on. “So when I was finally able to be with you, to have what I wanted, I thought of how lucky I was. But then I thought, surely, this luck would run out? Surely, I couldn’t have this. That what I wanted, that you would eventually be ripped away from me.” He bit his bottom lip as he delved deeper into his thoughts. “And, like, during the war it was this constant fear of one of us dying, but when all the bloodshed was done, the thought still remained. And maybe it became even scarier, because now I don’t have to worry about a deranged monster, but instead the real world. And the war wasn’t kind to us, but neither is the real world. And then I was just… scared. No longer of a crazy beast, but of the mindset that stupid people have about us. That this thing we have was wrong and they would never allow it to last.”

When he finished his tirade, it was only then that he realized that tears had begun to form in his eyes. He removed his hand from Mike’s back to wipe at his face, but quicker than lightning, Mike snatched his wrist.

“Wha—?” Will glanced quizzically at his boyfriend, only to find Mike staring him down with the most sincere and genuine expression, that Will felt his heart glow in his chest.

“Listen to me, Will,” Mike said, and it was the most serious Will had ever heard him. “I want you to know this. I will never leave you. You will never lose me. This thing we have?” He gestured between the two of them. “It’s forever. I guarantee it.”

He said it so firmly that Will couldn’t help but believe him… almost.

“You can’t promise that,” he whispered, because in the back of his mind, he heard the murmurs of you don’t deserve this and you can’t have this.

“Bullshit I can’t promise that!” Mike scoffed. “Will, when everyone thought you were dead, I kept pushing to find you. I never gave up on you. Because the thought of us being apart, it just—” Mike’s voice cracked here, and he quickly shook his head. “And we were just twelve, man, jeez. I already knew by then that I wanted to spend forever with you. And yeah, as I grew up my dumb brain was sending mixed signals—“ Will chuckled, and Mike beamed, his joke clearly having landed.

“And yeah, we went through literal hell and fought monsters and terrifying dads and whatnot. And I was scared as fuck! For my own life, obviously, but also yours. Because you dying? That’s scarier than any demogorgon I’ve had to face down.”

By now, the two boys were kneeling again. Mike’s hands cradled Will’s face, and Will’s hands were on Mike’s wrists. Their foreheads were pressed firmly against each other. “What I’m trying to get at is… you don’t have to be afraid of losing me, Will. I’m sorry you felt that way, and I’ll do anything I can so you will never feel that way again. Because…” Will watched the bob in Mike’s throat as he swallowed. “Because, Will… you’ve always had me.”

Against his defiance, Will felt tears fall down his cheeks. He saw the same thing happening to Mike as well. They mirrored each other in every way.

“Always?” Will whispered, so reverently, like he never wanted this moment to end.

“Always,” Mike confirmed. “Always have, and always will.”

Will let out a choked sob, and threw his arms around Mike, hugging him as tight as he possibly could. Mike laughed, and it was a watery sound, and he hugged back just as tightly.

“I love you,” Will cried out. “I love you so much.”

Mike gently kissed the side of his head. “I love you too,” he answered.

The two boys stayed trapped in that embrace for a long, long time. Will listened to the sound of the rain, which hadn’t let up at all — in fact, it only seemed to go even harder. It would probably become a storm, soon.

For some reason, it was something that Will was looking forward to.

Then, he had an idea. It was his best idea yet.

Slowly, he pulled himself back from the hug. Mike looked at him with a mixture of palpable confusion and amusement.

“So… do I get a kiss now?” Mike joked, leaning in closer to Will’s face.

Will merely smiled at him, letting Mike get as close as he possibly could — before Will abruptly stood up and ran out of Castle Byers.

Out of the fort, and into the rain.

“Wha— hey!” Will grinned as he heard Mike’s protest behind him. He heard mud and leaves squish and crunch under Mike’s converse, as he followed Will into the coming storm. Will looked up into the dark gray sky, and he grinned.

“What the fuck, Will!” Mike sputtered.

“Come on!” Will shouted, and he was laughing, laughing, laughing. “Don’t you love the rain?”

“You’re fucking crazy!” Mike yelled back, and Will finally allowed himself to get a good look at his boyfriend. He held back a laugh. Mike’s long, black hair was plastered all over his face and fell limply over his shoulders, and his clothes were two shades darker from being waterlogged. He looked confused, and flustered, and concerned, and—

He was beautiful. Without a doubt, Mike was the most beautiful thing in Will’s life.

In art class, Will had been taught that the most beautiful things were also the most temporary. He learned that in Japan, there was something called the cherry blossom tree, which only bloomed for a short while before the wind blew away its gorgeous flowers. There was beauty in the ephemeral. Will could agree with that.

But fuck, there was nothing more beautiful than the fact that Mike was permanent. That Mike was the definition of forever.

Mike had treaded closer to Will, so that their noses were almost touching. “Did you hear me?” Mike demanded bossily. “You, Will Byers, are fucking crazy!”

Will beamed at him. “What? I thought you wanted to go crazy together, right?”

Despite the rain falling over his eyes, Will got a clear view of Mike’s haggard face melting into something softer, something sweeter.

“Yeah,” Mike said. “And we will.” His hands found Will’s, and he squeezed them tight.

“Together,” Mike reminded him. “Forever.”

That was all Will needed. Will wrapped his arms around Mike and brought him in close for a deep kiss.

Subconsciously, Will had been preparing himself to feel the tall licks of flame in his body, like he normally felt when he and Mike kissed. He did feel something, but he wouldn’t describe it as a raging fire anymore. It was simply warmth in its purest form. And it mixed together with the promise of the rain, and the whispers of the wind, and the steadiness of dirt beneath their shoes. Will felt all the elements — Will felt the whole world trembling in his body now, and that felt like a big responsibility for a meek, teenage boy. But he was holding Mike, and Mike was his forever and always, so he knew that he could share the world with Mike. Or share Mike with the world. Either way, he was happy.

Because Will didn’t kiss Mike like it was his last anymore. And sure, they have traded probably thousands of kisses between them at this point.

But now? It was definitely a first kiss. Or, at the very least,Will thought amusedly as he brought Mike even closer, it felt like a first kiss.

It felt like the first kiss of forever.

#byler #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #mike x will #will x mike #byler ficlet #byler fanfic #byler fic #virgil.writes #sorry if there's mistakes i got lazy beta-ing it

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holyvirgilscriptures · 11 months

Note

"food as a love language"? ideas have been in the back of my mind for weeks about that...

prompt: food as a love language (please send me prompts on ask so i can write some byler and break out of my writer's block!)

note: this honestly turned out to just be a small ficlet about mike's relationship with food itself, so i hope that's okay! as such, there will be a reference to mike's possible ed, which there is a good analysis for here. again, hope you enjoy! ;3

...

“Mike, come on. Breakfast is ready.”

Carefully, Mike lifts his head from underneath his warm covers. Truthfully, he wished he could have been buried beneath the coziness forever. Instead, he is greeted by the face of his older sister, Nancy. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she stares at him.

Mike has always hated when Nancy looks at him that way. She’s always had this glimmer in her eye, this intense driving force. It makes him feel like she’s peeling back his skin, and staring directly at his core. It’s unsettling. He hates it. Which is exactly why he buries himself under his covers again.

Even under the duvet, he can hear Nancy’s piercing sigh, and then — the sharp rap of her knuckles on his door frame.

“What?” he groans out.

“Hurry up, Mike. Mom’s getting impatient.” He can already imagine Nancy’s sarcastic eye-roll, and he rolls his eyes as well.

“Five more minutes!”

“You think I’m gonna buy that? You’re just gonna sleep again. Get up, come on. You’re the only one who’s not eating.”

“You’re not eating, either,” Mike points out, just to be difficult.

Nancy sighs again, and Mike can hear the irritation building in her voice. “Yeah, because Mom told me to fetch you. Now will you please just hurry up!”

“Yeah, okay! Okay!” he shouts back at her. “Let me just get dressed!”

Nancy grunts, and Mike can definitely tell she’s rolling her eyes again. But he hears her footsteps lighten as she leaves him be, and finally he can let out a deep breath and just… relax.

Inhale. Exhale. The air is trapped underneath his heavy weighted blanket, and he feels his curls sticking to his forehead from sweat. A brief, morbid thought passes his mind, if he could potentially suffocate, whether it be from the heat or from the lack of oxygen.

Inhale. Exhale. One, two, three beats pass. Then, he huffs and pulls the covers off his face. The blankets tumble uselessly to his bedroom floor.

Mike slowly sits up, and glances at his closet. Shirts, shorts, and pants are piled up haphazardly on the shelves or on the racks. Mike can fold them properly if he wants, thank you very much. He just… doesn’t feel like it.

He strips off his tank top and immediately feels self-conscious. His eyes dart around his room, as if an invisible thing were watching and judging him. He quickly grabs the first thing in his closet and slips it on. He looks down and almost laughs. Figures. It’s the Hellfire shirt.

Instead of putting on any bottoms, he decides to lie back down on his bed. He stares at the ceiling, tracing patterns on its flat, empty surface. He thinks about school — going to Hellfire, going to classes, doing his homework. In English class, they’ve been very particular about the history of words and how they are built together. Breakfast. Typically, breaking the fast of the previous night, when you sleep after dinner. He figures that you’re supposed to be hungry after fasting. Funny, because he doesn’t feel hungry at all, right now. It’s almost a rare feeling for him. It’s been too long since he felt hungry.

Mike’s contemplation is broken by another sharp sound against his door frame. He jolts up and almost strains his neck to find the source of the noise.

“Seriously, Mike?” It’s Nancy again. Mike swears her hair gets even poofier when she gets more and more irritated. “You haven’t even put on any pants yet? Come on!”

“I’m coming, already, see?” Mike hisses back, pulling up some discarded shorts that are within reach. The annoyance on Nancy’s face is rubbing off on him too, and as the siblings walk over the dining table, they both look ready to blow a fuse.

“There you are, Michael,” Karen Wheeler says, looking up from where she is feeding Holly. “What took you so long?”

“We’re all already done here,” Ted Wheeler says nonchalantly. It speaks volumes, the way he’s rifling his newspaper while his clean plate is arranged neatly in front of him. “If you expected us to wait for you while you were too busy teenage angsting — don’t.”

“I didn’t expect that,” Mike mutters. He sits in his chair, where his mother has already doled out a generous serving of eggs onto his plate. Mike swallows as he begins pushing the food around with his fork. It creates a greeting sound — metal on the rim of porcelain.

“Mike, what are you doing?” Karen asks, leveling him with a sharp look. “Don’t play with your food.”

“Playing with food is bad,” Holly says with all the wiseness of a little kid — like she herself hadn’t been slinging food around the table weeks back. But then again, maybe that’s just a testament to everything. Holly’s a child. Mike’s fourteen — he should know better.

He swallows again. He should always know better.

“The economy’s in rough shape, Michael,” Ted tells him, not taking his eyes off his newspaper. The face of Reagan on the front page looms at Mike as he’s looking at his eggs. “Don’t put our money to waste.”

Mike swallows again, and nods his head — even though he knows his father won’t see his answer. He twirls the eggs around his fork a little more, before he finally just sets the utensil down on the plate.

Breakfast used to be the sign of a good day ahead of him. A marker, of sorts. When he was little, he would practically inhale his food as fast as he could, to the point that his parents would scold him and tell him not to bite off more than he can chew. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that once breakfast was finally over, that’s when he could get to the good part of the day. The not-breakfast part. He’d sling on his backpack and run to get his bike, and he’d race down the streets like a master speedster. He could go to the arcade, or school, or the library, or Castle Byers…

Almost imperceptibly, Mike shakes his head.

The point is, he had something to look forward to after breakfast. The company of his friends. The Party. Dustin. Lucas. Will. Breakfast was just the gateway to a fun day, something he had to get out of the way so he could see all his friends, and they could spend all their time together. Just like they used to.

Mike takes in a shuddery breath.

But now, things are different. Well, Dustin is still here, so he’ll give him that. And Max, as prickly as she is — they’ve bonded, somehow, like two cactuses in close proximity. But Hellfire’s not a thing today — it’s Saturday, school is closed. Lucas is busy now, with his basketball team and friends and training that sometimes even takes up the weekends. And El… and Will…

The time difference from Hawkins to Lenora isn’t that much, is it? Are they eating breakfast now, too? Have they already finished? Are they… are they having fun now, in Lenora? Mike pictures El with the friends she talks about in her letters, laughing and sharing news. Mike thinks of Will, and whether or not he has made a friend there, too. Someone who plays D&D, someone he can go to the arcade with, someone he can bask together with under the golden California sun…

Mike shakes his head again, snapping him out of the discouraging thoughts of tan skin and sweet smiles. He feels flushed, and he knows nobody at this table cares to watch him, but he still feels like he needs to do… something. Anything. So without thought, he picks up the syrup at the table and squeezes it all over his eggs. Hopefully that will make everything more appetizing.

Just as he sets down the syrup bottle, Nancy walks by again, an air of importance around her. She’s going somewhere, probably. Nancy has always been a busy bee.

As Nancy fusses with her things, she glances back at the table, and her eyes catch on Mike’s syrupy eggs. Her lips twist into a disgusted scowl. “That’s so gross, Mike,” she scoffs, before whirling away back to her room.

Mike watches as she walks off. Then he stares at his food, as if it could hold all the answers he seeks to the questions he doesn’t even know. Then he sighs and slumps down in his chair, ignoring the disapproving glance of his mother.

Yeah, it’s been too long since he actually felt hungry.

#byler #stranger things #mike wheeler #virgil.writes #byler ficlet #written byler #byler fic

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