Work Text:
it had been three days.
three long, bone deep days since the apartment had gone silent for real. not the kind of quiet where someone was just in the next room, earbuds in, hoodie up. no, the kind that echoed. that made mack feel like every drawer he opened and every floorboard he stepped on was a shout in the void.
he hadn’t slept in the bed. couldn’t. the couch was lumpy and too short, but at least it didn’t smell like will. not in the same unbearable way.
he kept picking up his phone, then putting it back down. drafted texts and deleted them. watched will’s instagram go dark and stared at the “last seen” on their messages like it might blink alive if he stared hard enough.
the hardest part wasn’t the silence.
the hardest part was knowing will had meant it. that he’d really left. that the door had slammed and nothing had opened since.
until today.
it was a thursday. rainy. mack’s day off. he sat in the kitchen with a mug of coffee gone cold and the remains of some toast he couldn’t force himself to eat. the ache behind his ribs had turned dull and constant, like an old bruise.
and then there was a knock.
not loud. not urgent. just… hesitant.
mack stared at the door.
his brain flipped through possibilities. neighbor? delivery? will?
it was stupid to hope.
he opened it anyway.
will stood there, hoodie soaked through, hair dripping, eyes red-rimmed like he’d been rubbing at them or hadn’t slept.
mack’s breath caught in his throat.
“i left my charger,” will said, voice low. “cam’s only got that old iphone brick and mine won’t fit.”
mack stepped aside before he could think better of it. “it’s in the drawer. under the keys.”
will moved past him. carefully. like the space between them was made of glass. he crouched, pulled open the drawer. mack watched the muscles in his back shift under the wet fabric.
he should’ve said something.
should’ve apologized. or begged. or fallen to his knees right there in the kitchen.
instead, he said, “you could’ve texted.”
will didn’t turn around. “didn’t think you’d answer.”
mack flinched. “i would’ve.”
will grabbed the charger. stood. “well. got it now.”
he moved like he was going to leave.
mack couldn’t let that happen. not again. “wait.”
will stopped.
“i can’t do this,” mack said. “i’ve been going crazy.”
will still didn’t turn. “then why didn’t you call me?”
“because i thought i ruined it. because i was scared you wouldn’t pick up. because i didn’t know if i even deserved to hear your voice.”
that got will to look at him. just barely. his expression was unreadable, but his shoulders sagged.
“i miss you,” mack said, softer now. “i haven’t been able to think straight.”
“you think i have?” will’s voice was quiet, but edged. “i’ve been sleeping on cam’s couch like a goddamn stray cat. every five minutes i check my phone like a fucking idiot, hoping you’ll say something. but you didn’t.”
“i didn’t know what to say,” mack admitted. “anything i wrote sounded like a lie. i didn’t want to do this halfway again.”
will swallowed. his eyes dropped to the floor.
mack stepped closer. careful. “i know i haven’t been there. i know i hurt you.”
“yeah,” will said. “you did.”
“i don’t want to keep hurting you.”
will looked up. his voice cracked. “then why did you?”
“i didn’t know how to talk about the pressure,” mack said. “i didn’t know how to let you in without making it your problem too.”
“i wanted to be part of the problem,” will said, frustration breaking through. “i wanted to carry it with you. i wasn’t asking for magic, mack. just… space in your life.”
“you’ve always had space,” mack said, shaking his head. “you’ve had the whole damn room, will. i just got too tired to hold it up. i let it fall.”
will was crying now. just a few tears, quick and quiet, but they hit mack like fists.
“i don’t want to fight anymore,” mack said. “i just want you to come home.”
will looked at him for a long time. and then, finally, whispered, “i don’t know if it’s that simple.”
“i know it’s not,” mack said. “but i don’t care. i’ll work for it. i’ll earn it back.”
silence stretched between them. this one felt different. full, not hollow. like something could still grow there.
will finally moved. took a step toward him. then another. and suddenly mack’s arms were full of him, damp shirt, cold skin, shaking shoulders. will’s face pressed into his chest.
“i missed you too,” will mumbled. “i missed you so fucking much.”
“i know,” mack whispered, clinging to him like he might disappear. “i’m so sorry. i should’ve said something. i should’ve seen it.”
will didn’t say anything for a while. just stood there, fists clutching mack’s shirt like it anchored him.
“i kept thinking about that last night,” he said. “how you didn’t stop me. how you let me walk out.”
“i was scared if i said the wrong thing, it’d make it worse.”
“you saying nothing made it worse.”
mack nodded. “i know. and i hated myself for it.”
will leaned back slightly, looking up at him. “do you really want this to work?”
“more than anything.”
will’s voice cracked again. “then show up.”
“i will.”
“no half-assed apologies. no promises you forget two weeks from now.”
mack cupped his face gently. “you won’t have to remind me. not this time.”
will let out a shuddery breath. “okay.”
“okay?”
“okay,” will repeated, and leaned into the touch.
they stood there for a while, quiet again, but not like before. this silence felt warm. shared. like a pause before the next breath.
eventually, mack nudged will’s nose with his own. “you’re soaked. let me get you a towel.”
will nodded. “only if it smells like you.”
mack smiled for the first time in days. “everything in this apartment does.”
will blinked slowly. “that used to comfort me.”
“it still can,” mack whispered. “if you let it.”
will stepped away long enough to take off the wet hoodie. tossed it over the back of the chair. “one more thing.”
“anything.”
“i don’t want this to be the last time we talk like this. not just when things break.”
mack nodded. “then let’s talk. always.”
will reached out again, and mack pulled him close. this time, they didn’t let go.