Status: ♂♂
Summer
i waste all my time just thinking of you
Sometimes Carter touches Will’s face when they kiss.
Sometimes he breathes against Will’s cheek when he thinks he’s sleeping, grabs his hand under the covers like it's not a secret (them, like they're not a secret).
Sometimes he presses Will against the front door and it’s sweet instead of goodbye.
Sometimes Carter forgets who they are, what they are.
Sometimes Will lets him.
--
The last Friday of summer break, Carter passes out on the couch.
He promised to take Will out, let him get drunk, let them be together, be.
Carter didn't make it past the living room floor, his head bracketed between Will’s knees.
One look at Will in the jeans Carter let him wear, that smirk, and Carter couldn't do it, couldn't expose him to the world (maybe he's more selfish than he likes to admit, maybe he wants Will for himself just a little while longer).
“Sorry,” he whispered, mouth warm and wet against Will’s kneecap.
Will touched the side of his face and Carter leaned into it, almost asked What for?, but he knew, he knew.
“Me too.”
--
Every time Will wakes up in Carter’s bed, it’s like waking up to a broken heart.
You’re beautiful, he thinks, his chest pressed to Carter’s back, feeling every inhale like that alone can keep him together.
When Carter curls back against Will, Will freezes.
"D'you need me to drive you home?" Carter mumbles, doesn't turn to face Will.
Will lets his lips rest against the back of Carter's neck and keeps his mouth tightly shut. Carter looks over his shoulder, and his sleep-heavy eyes fight to focus. His erection presses against Will's hip when he rolls over, sagging boxer shorts and sweaty palms. It's nice; so, so nice.
“You’re like this little kid in my bed,” Carter whispers, and his voice catches. He stops, traces his thumb over Will’s nipple, up his bare chest. His fingers grip Will's jaw and Will stops breathing.
Their eyes meet and Will grabs his hand, brings it up to his mouth, kisses his knuckles one-by-one-by-one.
He wants to say I’m sorry.
All that comes out is, "Yeah, I should go."
--
They fuck, but Will privately thinks of it as making love.
He's stupid.
And he knows it’s something that keeps Carter up at night.
He knows it when he looks at him right before they fall onto his bed, his face so good at hiding something he doesn't realise Will has memorised.
"You should fuck me," he says the day before Will starts his senior year, his arms wrapped around Will's waist like if he lets go, Will will disappear. (It's the same way Will feels every time Carter fucking looks at him.)
Will leans his forehead against Carter's and whispers, "Okay," when he should be asking why, when he should be asking why now?
Will doesn't know how to make it good for someone that is perfect -- he checks in with Carter all the time, smooths his hands down the backs of his thighs, doesn't say the things he really means.
He comes with I love you on the very tip of his tongue.
--
Carter kisses Will's cheek when he drops him off that morning, two streets behind his school (like the goddamn clandestine nothing they are -- three months of nothing that were really fucking everything).
He knows what the kiss means and he knows the look on Carter's face as he drives off.
Goodbye.
Sometimes he breathes against Will’s cheek when he thinks he’s sleeping, grabs his hand under the covers like it's not a secret (them, like they're not a secret).
Sometimes he presses Will against the front door and it’s sweet instead of goodbye.
Sometimes Carter forgets who they are, what they are.
Sometimes Will lets him.
--
The last Friday of summer break, Carter passes out on the couch.
He promised to take Will out, let him get drunk, let them be together, be.
Carter didn't make it past the living room floor, his head bracketed between Will’s knees.
One look at Will in the jeans Carter let him wear, that smirk, and Carter couldn't do it, couldn't expose him to the world (maybe he's more selfish than he likes to admit, maybe he wants Will for himself just a little while longer).
“Sorry,” he whispered, mouth warm and wet against Will’s kneecap.
Will touched the side of his face and Carter leaned into it, almost asked What for?, but he knew, he knew.
“Me too.”
--
Every time Will wakes up in Carter’s bed, it’s like waking up to a broken heart.
You’re beautiful, he thinks, his chest pressed to Carter’s back, feeling every inhale like that alone can keep him together.
When Carter curls back against Will, Will freezes.
"D'you need me to drive you home?" Carter mumbles, doesn't turn to face Will.
Will lets his lips rest against the back of Carter's neck and keeps his mouth tightly shut. Carter looks over his shoulder, and his sleep-heavy eyes fight to focus. His erection presses against Will's hip when he rolls over, sagging boxer shorts and sweaty palms. It's nice; so, so nice.
“You’re like this little kid in my bed,” Carter whispers, and his voice catches. He stops, traces his thumb over Will’s nipple, up his bare chest. His fingers grip Will's jaw and Will stops breathing.
Their eyes meet and Will grabs his hand, brings it up to his mouth, kisses his knuckles one-by-one-by-one.
He wants to say I’m sorry.
All that comes out is, "Yeah, I should go."
--
They fuck, but Will privately thinks of it as making love.
He's stupid.
And he knows it’s something that keeps Carter up at night.
He knows it when he looks at him right before they fall onto his bed, his face so good at hiding something he doesn't realise Will has memorised.
"You should fuck me," he says the day before Will starts his senior year, his arms wrapped around Will's waist like if he lets go, Will will disappear. (It's the same way Will feels every time Carter fucking looks at him.)
Will leans his forehead against Carter's and whispers, "Okay," when he should be asking why, when he should be asking why now?
Will doesn't know how to make it good for someone that is perfect -- he checks in with Carter all the time, smooths his hands down the backs of his thighs, doesn't say the things he really means.
He comes with I love you on the very tip of his tongue.
--
Carter kisses Will's cheek when he drops him off that morning, two streets behind his school (like the goddamn clandestine nothing they are -- three months of nothing that were really fucking everything).
He knows what the kiss means and he knows the look on Carter's face as he drives off.
Goodbye.