corpses in the closet [] chapter 4

Instructions

(for more chapters, see the studio below) Mike watched the clock on his desk, the numbers blinking 5:59, filling the space with a soft glow. He waited for the time to change, for the chance to escape. The silence was thick and it was hard to breathe, and Will wasn’t even conscious. He didn’t want to be here when he wakes up; those quiet moments of sleepy conversation seemed too risky. The seconds seemed to drag, the minute seeming to take hours to pass. Finally, it read 6:00, and Mike exhaled a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. He stood up as quietly as possible, letting the blankets fall to the floor. He stopped in the doorway, looking back. He watched the slow rise and fall of Will’s side, listened to the soft rhythm of his breathing. Will looked peaceful, quiet. It was times like this when he wished he could let his guard down fully, to let Will know all of his innermost thoughts. He wished he could just hug him; to melt into Will’s arms and breathe secrets into his neck while he held him tight, telling his own secrets right back. He felt so stupid he almost wanted to laugh. He dug his nails into his palms, forcing himself to turn away. Mike walked numbly down the hallway to the bathroom, shutting the door with a quiet click. He caught his eyes in the mirror and was surprised by how exhausted he really looked. Mike’s eyelids seemed to droop, the soft skin underneath slightly swollen and tinged with a light shade of purple. His skin seemed pale, his hair was wispy and messed up from the pillow, the shirt he wore was wrinkled and too big. Without context, he just looks tired. But the truth is that he hasn’t been sleeping because he couldn’t stop thinking about Will, about how he would take every chance to touch him if he could, however lightly, but would rarely ever do so. About how he felt distant from El, how he felt so much more comfortable and safe with Will than he does with his own girlfriend. Nobody knows the thoughts going through his head, and he was determined to ensure that nobody ever would. The implications would be too great, the consequences too severe. He could lose his girlfriend, best friend, friend group, and family in all one fell swoop if things went sideways. Nobody would understand, and, to be honest, Mike didn’t completely understand it himself. He sighed heavily, turning the faucet on and splashing cold water on his face. He forced himself to smile as convincingly as possible. It wasn’t terrible, but the bags under his eyes weren’t doing him any favors. The smile dropped and he stared at himself in the mirror. El always told him he was handsome, but he didn’t see it. Sure, he had cheekbones and a nice eye color, but he was thin and weak and he rarely gave much attention to his hair or his skin. He’s never cared much about his looks, though, and especially not when the world was on the brink of ending. He brushed his teeth and took a shower, turning the water so hot that it steamed from his skin, leaving him pink. He stayed there longer than he probably should’ve, just spacing and staring at the wall. He liked showers, the privacy they offered; a place where you didn’t need to constantly be aware of your facial expressions and your mannerisms and your movements, where you had the freedom to think all of your thoughts and not hide the way you feel about them. His skin was pink and raw by the time he got out. He toweled off quickly and got dressed, carelessly throwing on the same clothes he had on before. Cautiously, he made his way down the stairs and was met with the aroma of toast and eggs and sizzling bacon. Will was standing by Mike's mom at the stove, helping her plate up the last of the bacon in the frying pan. The last stair creaks and everyone looks over at Mike. The kitchen and the dining table are all crowded; his father, Nancy, Jonathan, Joyce, El, Holly, Will and his mother all looking at him. With so many eyes suddenly turned upon him, he felt self-conscious. He waved sheepishly, “morning.” It doesn't matter that everyone here is either his family or his close friends; being perceived by large numbers of people has always made Mike nervous. Everyone went back to what they were doing as he walked over to join them. Will took a seat next to El, and on her other side was Nancy. The only seat left open was next to Will. It’s not like there was any other choice, so he shouldn’t feel weird about it. So why does he? He grabbed a plate and filled it with a small amount of food, making his way slowly to the open chair, the plate clinking as he set it on the table. There was a low rumble of conversation as everyone sat down and began eating, the clinking and scraping of utensils filling the room. Will met his eyes, a question clear on his expression. You okay? It said. It was obvious that he could see the exhaustion that’s settled into Mike’s body. Mike just shrugged.