⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱ Day 2: Opposites Attract!
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Themes: [ Religion, Defiance, Identity ]
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˖᯽ ݁˖ “Sitting at the farthest seats of a dinner table is tolerable, so long as their eyes meet twice.”
“The Cross Above”
⋆˚✿˖°
𝐢. 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤
Mike held the palms of the father and the mother as grace was said, but his eyes remained open.
Slowly, the boy at the other end of the table blinked his open as well, and they caught Mike’s almost immediately.
The familiar words of gratitude shared day by day echoed down the dark wood of the table, expressing thanks to a being no man has had the pleasure of seeing.
And yet, while this sight would be an indescribable miracle, it was never an objective of Mike’s. Whether it was his lack of religious background, or comfort with the temporary life, a voice in his head told him that it did not compare to the sight of Will Byers cheekily smiling at him at the other end of the table.
It was the biggest act of defiance he had committed, because unlike Mike, he was a human of esteemed devotion to God.
While his disrespect during grace is his biggest sin, it was a minimal crime in Mike’s book of deeds.
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“You’re a peculiar one,” Will whispered against Mike’s lips.
His hands tightened around the front of his leather jacket, feeling the unfamiliar texture in his fingers.
“I am?” Mike chuckled softly. “I think out of the two of us, you’re the weirder one.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“No, but it makes you peculiar-er.”
Will’s eyes turned to crescent-like shapes as his shy smile grew. Up close, his skin was blushy and smooth, empty of the piercings that had caught on as a trend lately. The thin metal bar dashing through Mike’s brow corroborated that.
“And yet, you’re able to tolerate me.” Will placed a hand on the side of Mike’s face.
Mike raised a brow, “Obviously! Well, tolerating isn’t even the right word. I don’t tolerate you, I want you. Does that make sense?”
Will rocked forwards on the heels of his old brown boots, “I don’t think anything does, but I am content with that. I like the…”
“Rebelliousness?”
“Rebe—No!” He smacked Mike’s chest. “I’m not rebelling.”
“So your parents wouldn’t raise a brow if you invited me over for dinner?” Mike tilted his head, a toothy grin on his face.
Some brief seconds passed as Will bit his lip in thought. Although, it felt like hours.
However, instead of responding, he simply pulled Mike down to his height and smacked their lips together, moving with the passion of a dancer.
𝐢𝐢. 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤
Mike reached up and grabbed his leather jacket off of the stand by the door. It looked a bit out of place amongst the crowd of brown coats.
Then, he turned around and laid his eyes on Will, who was watching him from a considerable distance.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna come?” Mike asked.
Will fiddled with the hem of his white, ironed shirt. “I haven’t completed my chores.”
“What? You have to milk the cows for the third time today?” Mike crossed his arms.
“We don’t have cows!” Will rolled his eyes.
“Right, right.” Mike sighed.
He took a few steps forward, enough to close the distance between them, and gently held Will’s hand.
“Fuck the chores, you have a date to go on.” He whispered.
Even though he couldn’t possibly care less about the house rules against swearing, he wanted to respect them—to respect Will. Also, the cross sign hanging above every single doorway (including the bathroom) was beginning to intimidate him.
Will tapped his foot on the ground in a stressed manner. He parted his lips to say something, but quickly closed them.
A sigh slipped through them instead. Mike couldn’t tell if it was out of exhaustion or annoyance, but both were terrible answers.
“Listen, you don’t need to—”
“Hold on.” Will shushed him.
He snapped his head to the right corridor, then the left. Then he repeated the action.
Mike felt a reassuring squeeze to his hand before Will spoke, this time in a voice so low, it was barely audible.
“I’ll come, but bring me home before twelve.”
The cross above the front door shook when Mike slammed it shut, excitement rendering him blind to his surroundings.
Loosely, it swayed left and right, hanging on by the single old nail holding it up—until it wasn’t.
It clattered to the hard floor loudly, as if it was an urgent alert.
To some, it is.
Like Will, who is currently sitting in Mike’s car, humming along to the new song Mike had put together last Sunday.
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Happy Pride! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱