Fics like If this were the last night of our lives, you would tell me how you feeling. If we don't make it out alive, I'm scared of what if our futures, they never collide. If this were the last night, the last night of our lives?

He wished—God, he wished—that Mike was looking at him because he still cared. Because he missed him. Because he still saw him the way Will saw Mike every time he drifted too close. But Will had forfeited the right to want that. El was his sister. Mike was…Mike. And Will’s longing had always felt like a betrayal, a quiet, awful selfishness. *** Mike had lost track of how many times he’d muttered Where the hell is he now? in the last thirty-six hours. It had become a refrain, a pulse, a constant grinding irritation in the back of his skull—not at Will, never at Will, but at the universe for apparently conspiring to pull Will in six different directions until there was nothing left of him. .... “You’ve been through worse,” Will had said, and Mike had almost snapped at him right then. Worse didn’t matter. Comfort didn’t matter. Mike didn’t need the bed. Will did. Will needed sleep, warmth, a pillow, someone physically forcing him horizontal— And instead Will got…this. A cold spot on the floor and the stupid conviction that he didn’t deserve more.

Fics like If this were the last night of our lives, you would tell me how you feeling. If we don't make it out alive, I'm scared of what if our futures, they never collide. If this were the last night, the last night of our lives?

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