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Mike was going to die.
And it's not going to be because of a Demogorgon, or Hawkins splitting open in four, or anything related to the supernatural hell-scape that's tormented him and his friends for the past half decade.
He was going to die because his best friend of many years who he happens to have a big fat crush on —crush sounds so childish when it comes to his feelings, to small to account for how all encompassing his love for the man was, but calling it was a crush let Mike pretend it would eventually fade, that it was temporary— was sleeping on his floor, and not in his own bed next to him.
And, look, he knows its stupid, okay? Of all the problems they've been dealing with, Mike's fading dream of Will invading his personal space with a tilt of the head and a looking at him like he's the only thing that mattered, was like, the least important thing ever.
But it hurt, the distance feeling like miles as the fake body heat from Will dissipated into a coldness deep in his bones. In Mike's sleep deprived brain —he hasn't slept through the night in two weeks, and he was really starting to feel it— he's half convinced he woke himself up from the dream out of sheer panic, and he wants it back, selfish as it is.
Mike rolled over, staring down at Will, sleeping calmly. Which is good. Great, even. Will had been sleeping horribly for months when he first came back to Hawkins, and, truthfully, Mike's sure he hasn't slept normally since pre-everything.
But every time Mike had awoken this past month, he'd been greeted to the soft darkness of his bedroom, and Will, dead asleep, the nightlight in the corner casting a soft yellow glow over his sleeping figure. It was as if they traded sleep issues, which Mike would gladly take in a heartbeat. Will needed it more than him, anyways.
Will let out a little sigh, face still pressed against the pillow, his brown hair splayed out against the cream white, looking so soft and far too touchable for how far away Mike was. He looked so peaceful.
Awake, Will's eyebrows had a permanent crease in them, and his mouth tilted down in a slight frown. There were times when Will was expressive, whether it be arguing with Jonathan over whatever during breakfast, or they're shared looks when Dustin and Lucas were fighting yet again. But for the most part, he always seemed …far away. Not present.
But asleep? There was no shadow cast over him, no telltale signs of the horrors he's been fighting for years. He looked like he was still that little kid Mike ask to be his friend, so long ago.
The difference was so stark, it hurt Mike to see him awake sometimes, knowing how at east he was when unconscious. How the only time he wasn't stressed was when he wasn't even aware of anything.
Mike sighed and rolled over, tearing his gaze from the sleeping man. Now he face to face with Will's painting, which, honestly, wasn't any better. He'd purposefully hung it this low on the wall, knowing it was eye level when lying down.
It seemed like a good idea at the time, before he asked El about it. Now he saw the demons of unanswered questions pulsing behind every brush stroke and splotch of color. Despite the mental battle he had every time he saw it, the sight was still comforting.
<
Even without fully understanding why, it was still a beautiful painting that Will had put his time and effort into creating for him. One that portrayed him as a hero.
But tonight, with the lingering image of Will so, so close, the ghost of his fingertips gazing his arm, and with a strange inkling that he'd dreamt it before, it felt almost mocking.
Somehow, looking at it is worse that staring at Will. Even if this is really the only time Mike let's himself look anymore, too afraid that someone —or even worse, Will— would notice, and read him straight through to his core.
But even when Will's not in his field of view, he still feels his presence behind him. It's like he has a permanent spot in Mike's mind, and he feels the emptiness when he's not there.
During times like this, if Mike's really quiet, daring to even inhale, he can hear Will breathing. A reminder that he's alive.
Mike has to remind himself of that sometimes. To actively push back against the constant fear that one day he'll wake up and Will wont be there again. That something will happen when Mike's not there to protect him.
<
A cruel, selfish part of himself wants to call out to Will, just to really confirm he's still here, as if listening to him breath after watching him sleep for a good few minutes, like a fucking creep, isn't enough.
<
He doesn't. Will's been plagued with nightmares for years; Mike can handle a few good dreams.
<
Mike sighed, turning onto his back at staring at the ceiling instead.
The world was ending. His bed feels too empty. He wants too much. He's still a love sick fool.
This was going to be a long night.
With a huff, Mike tossed his blanket to the side and swung his legs off the side of his bed —pausing for a moment to stare at Will, double checking his quick outburst didn't wake him up— and quietly slipped out of his bedroom.
This wasn't the first time he'd gotten a drink of water during the night; something about the dark stillness of a normally bustling area was comforting, and he relished in it as he sipped. It enforced that Mike was alone in this moment, that no one could see him yearn for what he could not have, however wrong.
No one but a God that didn't exist.
Mike focused on feeling the cool liquid travel through his body, as if it were cleansing him from the inside.
He can handle the desire that clawed inside his heart every time it beat near the other boy, he was nothing if not used to it. But reminiscing over a dream? Longing for a version of Will that didn't even exist? It made him feel sick.
Dirty, a voice far too close to Pastor John range in his mind. He grimaced, setting the glass down with a loud clink.
Last Sunday's sermon had been the worst one in a while. The talks about Demons overtaking Hawkins infuriating, sure, but he was used to it. But a whole hour about how the danger of same sex attraction, as be called it, was a direct link to the Devil? How AIDS was a direct punishment from God on the sinners soul?
It made him want to scream.
Church —baring Christmas and Easter— had been more of a suggestion before, thanks to Nancy's headwork. But when Hawkins split apart, they became mandatory —even if it was only to keep the gossip about about the Wheeler's son, notable member of Hellfire, at bay. God forbid their family's image be anything less than perfect, even if it killed their son in the process.
It was such bullshit too, it made Mike want to rip out his hair every time he thought about it. Imagine how they'd all react if they knew that Hell was very real underneath them, and the demons that lurked in those tunnels were not fallen angels but blood thirsty monsters.
Or, better yet, that Ted Wheeler's son was a big flaming homosexual helplessly in love with his best friend, the legendary zombie boy.
Mike set the glass down, harder than he meant too, and winced at the noise, sounding far too loud in the silence.
He was putting the glass away when he heard footsteps. He froze, not particularly wanting to be caught in a moment as fragile as this one felt. Mike grimaced as the sound got louder, mentally preparing for the interaction —he assumed it was Will coming down to check on him, probably after noticing his empty bed. Will was good like that.
A flash of blonde; it was Holly.
Mike felt stupid, god he really was a mess.
Holly didn't give any indication she even saw him, walking straight past the kitchen and heading for the front door, almost in a floating, dream-like walk.
"Holly?" Mike asked, wincing at how raw his voice sounded. She didn't respond.
He followed her, frowning. "Holly?" He repeated, a little louder. When she still didn't react, he reached out and lightly grabbed her shoulder. The contact made her gasp and jerk around to face him, confused and a little alarmed.
Mike wasn't aware Holly —or anyone in his family, for that matter— sleepwalked. He certainly never heard any of them do it —and he hadn't been a deep sleeper for four years.
"You okay?"
She blinked, looking around before refocusing on Mike.
"Where's Mr. Whatsit?" Her voice was groggy, the words half slurred together. It took a moment for the question to process in his mind.
"What?"
"Mr. Whatsit, he said he was going to take me to Wonderland." Holly said, slightly more urgent.
He bit back a sigh. Her obsession with Alice in Wonderland was starting to get a bit out of hand —his dad had already given up asking her to stop reading, and rereading, it at the table.
"You were dreaming, c'mon, let's go back to bed." Mike replied, voice as kind as he could make it, filled with a hint of relief.
Holly frowned, clearly not thrilled with the idea. She looked around again, but —probably after not seeing whoever this Mr. Whatsit was— relented with a quiet "Okay."
Mike guided her to her room, out of all the super natural problems that have plagued the people closest to him lately, it was nice to have sleepwalking, a normal, easily fixable issue come up.
After making her promise to get some sleep and not to try escaping again, Mike returned to his own bedroom, closing the door with a quiet click.
Will was still asleep, thankfully. He slipped under his cover with a quick glance at the clock: 2:53. He sighed, already accepting he would be exhausted in school.
What else was new.
With one final exhale, Mike closed his eyes, and willed sleep to come.
School was, of course, fucking awful.
Mike thought his freshman year had been bad, but now, oh boy. He still had the mark of Hellfire on him, even though the club disbanded after…what happened to Eddie.
Everyday it was like he marched straight into the biggest Imperial Base when everyone knew he was part of the Rebellion, even if he didn't don the insignia.
The table previously designated as Hellfire's had turned into a makeshift Party table, if only because everyone else avoided it like the plague.
Mike felt the stares on him, riddled with disdain, as if he was siting at the Devil's table. It was easier when he wasn't alone; with the Party he felt indestructible, like he could barely care less about what those mouth breathers thought of him. Without, he felt like a sheep among wolves.
He stabbed the watery mess of corn a little harder than normal. Will should've been here by now; he class was the second closest to the lunchroom after Mike's, and normally he was only a few places behind him in line. They'd have a good minute or two where it was just the two of them, before Dustin and Lucas —who had the same science class, the lucky bastards— joined them.
The window of their minutes was almost over when Will set his tray down across from Mike with a huff, and half collapsed into his seat. His attention was instantly pulled away from his own brooding.
"You okay?"
Will looked at him for a second, his eyes glossy, with a bit of a far off look, before looking back down at his trey. Mike's anxiety spiked.
"Head hurts." Will grimaced. "I think Vecna moved."
Everything stopped. Mike felt the air punch out of him.
Vecna moved. Fuck.
It was this moment that Dustin and Lucas joined them —one on either side of Mike, for some goddamn reason— before Mike had fully processed the weight of Will's words./p>
Lucas was the first to notice Will's distress, stopping mid sentence in whatever argument they were having.
"Woah, Byers you alright?"
Will shook his head and sighed. "I felt Vecna move this morning. He's done waiting."
Silence followed, the dread settling in after the words were spoken. It was starting.
But Mike was more focused on Will, on how tired he looked. Even without bags under them, his eyes held a certain weariness to them. Will's posture was deflated, his head resting on his hands.
For months they'd been in waiting, lulled into a false sense of comfort —once you got used to the constant impending doom, of course. They'd went back to school, created a new routine, all waiting for this moment.
And Mike was terrified.
Tomorrow was no longer guaranteed. Everything could change with a tick of a clock. They were no longer safe.
"Oh God." Dustin muttered. "You're sure?"
Will nodded, running a hand through his hair. "I felt it when I woke up. It's hard to fully explain, but Vecna's been…stagnate. I could always feel him, but he wasn't doing anything. But this morning it felt different somehow, I don't know. Like he shifted.
"Shit." Was all Mike could get out. He linked his ankle around Will's to offer some form of support. Will sent him a quick glance, but didn't move his foot away. "Do you think we should call a full party meeting?"
"He moved." Lucas interjected. "Of course we call a meeting."
Dustin slowly shook his head. "Maybe we don't."
Lucas scoffed, "What?"
"Think about it, if you call a meeting and say 'Vecna's moving' what do you think the reaction will be? Everyone will freak the hell out, take us out of school and start going full Apocalypse mode."
Mike sighed. Will dropped his head in his hands. Here they go.
"Which is what we need, we need to be prepared in case-"
"In case what? In case he attacks?"
"Yes!"
Mike watched as Wills hand in his hair twitched, tightening ever so slightly.
"Will said he moved, not that he's moving. Who knows how long it will take for him to actually make that attack! We could easily waste all our time and energy by panicking too soon-"
"Guys-" Mike interjected.
"Or well be caught off guard and we'll all die!"
"Guys!" He snapped, before Dustin could rebuttal again. They were dangerously close to a screaming match, and they did not need this kind of attention right now. "Will's the one who actually feels him, lets listen to him."
He could hear Lucas scoff beside him, but was more focused on Will, who let out a big sigh, his shoulder raising and falling, before lifting his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.
After a moment, "It's too early still. He's not actively moving like Dustin said. Once I feel that, we call a meeting."
Lucas slumped back in his chair, clearly not pleased with the idea, but murmured an agreement with minimal complaints.
The rest of lunch was quiet, with a few scattered attempts at conversation. He wordlessly gave Will his juice box when he finished his own in one go. He needed it more that Mike, and he wasn't that thirsty anyways.
Their ankles didn't unlock until the bell rang.
Will was still quiet as they walked out of lunch. Mike followed him to his 6th period class like normal, not breaking the silence they'd fallen into.
It was later once they arrived, most everyone was already seated, so the hallway felt more empty than normal. Maybe that's why, when Will muttered a goodbye, and for a moment, the idea of Will leaving his sight filled him with such a panic, that he didn't stop his hand springing out and grabbing his wrist. "Wait-"
Will turned back, confusion, but not annoyance, on his face.
Mike stared at him blankly for a moment, eyes darting between Will's, then all over his face. Almost cementing the image of Will in his mind, in case the unspeakable happened in the two hours they were apart. The logical part of his brain told him he was overreacting. The other saw him four years younger, sitting on his bike outside his house.
"Yeah?" He asked, so soft it was barely audible.
"I won't let anything happen to you." Mike promised, surprising himself and Will with what tumbled out of his mouth —which sounded way more assured than he felt. "Not again. You'll be okay. I promise." He squeezed his wrist
>Will looked at him, eyes sparkling and giving him a smile so soft it made Mike's heart beat out of time. There was a warmth surrounding him, an angelic glow, as if the buzzing hallway lights started to form a halo around his head.
Will twisted hand so he could squeeze Mike's wrist back. "I know."
For a good moment neither moved. The air around them turned thick, the heat from Will's hand on his felt like it was burning straight through his skin. Mike swallowed, and swore he saw Will's eyes follow the movement.
For a moment, a brief, horrifying moment, all he could feel was dread. Fear that someone would take one look at his admission and see the inner workings of his heart, see all the longing he held for the man in front of him. Like a sinner to a priest he'd confess the treachery of his heart, spilling his wrongful dedication out in hope they'd turn away and leave him be.
Mike wet his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. He opened his mouth to say something —what exactly, he didn't know— when a loud, wailing bell rang through the hallway, making both of them jump.
Will gave a sheepish smile and, removing his hand from Mike's, pointed back at his classroom. "I should go."
Mike swallowed again, and cleared his throat. "Yeah, yeah of course. I should- I should go too."
Will let out a light, breathy laugh. "Yeah no shit, you're class is on the other side of the school."
"Don't remind me."
Even with Mike's sped walking skills, he was still a good few minutes late to class. Like normal for him it seemed.
The walk of shame to his seat —last one back in the room— was humiliating as always. One of Troy's old goons snickered as he walked by, something about his 'escapades with the other queer'. Mike wanted to punch him square on the nose and melt away and disappear at the same time.
The class itself wasn't any better, either. Ms. Smith wouldn't stop ranting about the "demons possessing Hawkins", instead of, you know, teaching the fucking class. It wasn't new for her; Mike often would try and tune her out by reading the book he was supposed to be learning about, but it was hard to focus on Frankenstein's moral dilemmas when in the background a grating voice ranted non-stop about the evil forces slowly taking over Hawkins.
If only she knew.
It was moments like this where Mike was violently aware of how little people knew about their home. About the Upside Down, about the truth of it all. They all saw the aftermaths, sure, when Will disappeared and Starcourt mall burned to the ground. But they didn't understand. They weren't there.
The people of Hawkins loved to scream devil and demons and point the blame to any little thing.
They said they were cursed. And in a way, they were right.
Mike was.
—
The ride back from school was tense. Will was still out of it, not saying more than a few words here and there. Even when they arrived home, Will parked hos bike and went down to the basement without saying a word.
Mike hesitated by the basement door, unsure if Will wanted the isolation, but unable to stomach leaving him alone if he was suffering.
Moving more on pure instinct that anything, he bounded up the stairs to his own room, grabbed the first comic he saw —then saw what it was and realized he'd already seen Will read it and grabbed the one underneath it— and went back down to the basement.
He entered carefully, purposefully making sure he didn't slam the door open or make too much noise and scare him. Will was sitting on the couch, head resting against the back, staring up at the ceiling, unmoving.
"Hey." Mike called out softly, "You okay?"
Will looked over at him, and gave a half hearted smile. "Yeah."
Mike narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything, just sat down next to him, mirroring his position and looking up at the ceiling. Will stared at him for a moment longer before returning to stare at the ceiling.
"What are we looking at." He whispered after a moment. Will huffed, amused.
"Nothing."
Mike blinked. "Oh. Why?"
"It's the point." Will sighed, readjusting slightly. "I don't know, it helps sometimes."
He hummed, encouraging him to keep talking. "Sometimes it's like there's so many things my brain is trying to tell me, I just need a moment to let it all, I don't know, catch up?"
Mike nodded, feigning seriousness. "Like lots of little Will's running around filing different things at once."
Will choked. He lifted his head from the couch to look at him, "What?"
He continued, trying not to smile. "Yeah, like its a company. Will Enterprise, or something. All the little workers in your brain are running overtime constantly, so you give them time to catch up on their deadlines." Mike reached up and tapped Will's forehead.
Will blinked, then looked at him like he grew a second head. "What?"
"I'm trying to distract you," He whispered, "Is it working?"
Will huffed out a laugh —score— and let his head fall back.
"Yes, actually." He said after a moment. Mike grinned. "Don't look so smug, now I'm imaging what's going on in your business, and let me tell you, it's pure chaos."
Mike squawked, but wasn't upset. Not when it got Will smiling.
"It would not be that bad."
"Mike I've been sleeping in your room for months. I heavily disagree."
He huffed and crossed his arms. "Whatever."
Will laughed, and Mike couldn't stop the smile that found it way to his lips. It was hard not to smile, when the sound made every neuron in his brain jump for joy, because he made that sound come out. Mike made him laugh. He'd looked so joyful, his mouth turned upwards in a smile. Mike wanted to kiss it.
He looked away, swallowing, and saw the Star Wars comic he brought down in his lap. Right.
Mike cleared his throat and handed Will the comic. "Brought this down, saw you eyeing it last night if you wanna read it."
He flipped through a few pages. "I was more curious as to when it took place, Luke's still got both his hands."
"It's after the first one, they're building the Hoth Base."
Will hummed, flipping to the beginning and stating to read. Mike watched him, in a totally not creepy way.
"I always wondered what would happen if Luke tried to Jedi Mind trick someone who could feel the force." Mike said after a bit, more thinking out loud than anything.
Will peered over the edge of the comic, raising an eyebrow. "Another Jedi would be able to block it, right?"
"Yeah, but what if like, they're not a Jedi. They're like Luke before the movie, unaware the force is even a thing. There should still be a connection, right? Like, what if the Stormtrooper Ben Kenobi mind tricked could feel the force, what then?"
Will tilted his head. "He'd probably call him insane."
Mike snorted, putting on his best Stormtrooper voice. "'These are the droids I'm looking for, and you need serious help.'"
Will laughed putting down the comic and sitting up, "Or- wait okay, let me set the scene. You're name is Stormtrooper #5763- Mike, don't laugh, this is serious. You're Stormtrooper #5763, on shift all day in hot armor on a desert planet. You're hot and miserable and bored. Now, your boss tells you to keep an eye out for these two droids for some reason you don't know, except there's barely anyone on this planet and none of them look similar, and also you can barely see out of your helmet anyways, so you're really not having a good day. And now, out of nowhere, this old, crusty man who looks no different from all the other drunks, comes up to Stormtrooper #5763-"
"Are you going to call him that every time."
"-along with what you've been searching for days, and when you question him about it, he waves his hand in front of you, blatantly lies about it, and acts like you're supposed to believe him."
Mike laughed. "If that was me I'd punch him and steal the droids."
Will grinned mischievously. "I like to think our friend Stormtrooper #5763-" Mike groaned, "is like, sure. Why not. And he plays along, pretending that he changed his mind. "
"So he still let's them go and nothing changes from the normal script? What's the point then?"
"He let's them think that, but you're underestimating our friend here, Mike. He's smarter than that. His connection to the force cancels out the Stormtrooper stupidness. He'd be all like 'Got it, let me direct you outta here so no one else mistakes the droids for what we need' but then, he leads them back to the ship or corners them or something."
"Oh so the empire wins and destroys every planet ever with the Death Star. Wonderful story." Mike deadpans.
Will smacked Mike with a pillow. "Stop criticizing my expert storytelling! It's just a hypothetical scenario! It would be interesting."
Mike laughed, and Will attacked him once again, pillow straight to the head. "Stop laughing." Will tackled him.
"Okay, okay, fine Stormtrooper #5763 would be a much better protagonist that Luke Skywalker." Mike relented, the armrest jabbing into the middle of his back quite uncomfortably, but he barely noticed it. Not when Will was on top of him, pillow pressed against his neck, his legs bracketing his own.
"Good." Will didn't move, keeping the pressure on the pillow to his chest. Mike was suddenly aware of how close they were, even with the pillow in between them. Of how heavy the were both breathing. Will's face was close, too close. Close enough that his eyes explored involuntarily, traveling from his sparkling hazel eyes down to soft, pink lips more times than they should've. He swallowed, and watched Will track the movement, his eyes looking somewhere lower on his face.
Distantly, he was aware of the basement flights flickering, if only due to the shifting shadows on Will's face, on the light catching his eyes before leaving. He mind felt like it was screaming, half wanting to grab Will by the neck and pull him in and the other wanting to shove him off and run far away in fear he'd do the first.
"Will." He murmured, just to say something, to break the silence. Will shivered on top of him, the sight sending Mike's head pounding even more than it had been. He felt frozen in place, burning alive.
The basement door slammed open. Mike flinched as Will jumped back, scrambling off him, leaving the air around him cold. He blinked, frantically trying to process what had just happened when he noticed Nancy at the top of the stairs, eyes intense and scrutinizing as ever. She looked between the two of them a moment before staring directly at him.
"Dinner's ready." She said, simply. Mike tried to shrink back even further into the couch. He sneaked a glance at Will, who looked frightened, pressed up against the other armrest.
"Okay." was all Will said.
Her gaze didn't move, and for the second time today Mike almost felt like dropping to his knees and confessing —to what exactly, he didn't know, since they didn't even do anything. Nancy pursed her lips once, before giving a quick nod and retreating up the stairs.
Neither of them dared to speak —Mike dared to look at him again, setting his gaze fully on one spot the carpet in front of him as he regulated his breathing— even after Nancy's footsteps faded away. After what felt like an hour, Mike could feel Will's gaze turn to him.
"Mike-" He started, which Mike was not about to hear the rest of.
"We should go." Mike stood, making his way to the stairs, too afraid to look at Will, too afraid his heart was close to breaking down, that only a little push would cause all the hidden words to spill out. He needed to leave this situation, quick.
He half bolted out of the basement.
Every step felt like running away.
—
Dinner was excruciating.
Mike spent the whole time avoiding eye contact with Will, who sat across from him, as he pushed around his mom's casserole on his plate. The whole time he was replaying the event, the feeling of Will on top of him, how close and intense his eyes were, the puffs of breath felt on his face. The worst part was still feeling Will look at him. Call it his physic Will sense, but goddamn did it feel heavy, like an actual, physical weight got dropped on his shoulders every time a pair of hazel eyes landed on him.
Will, the angel he was, offered to help his mom with the dishes after. As bad as he felt walking up the stair while Will stayed and washed, Mike was relieved he had time to mentally prepare and calm himself for the rest of the night. Just because Mike was losing his mind, doesn't mean that Will was.
Now, despite his time to prepare, he was still jump scared by Will opening the door, causing him to drop the book he'd been blankly staring at.
Will had laughed at him. Mike flushed and told him to shut up. And that was it. They didn't speak of it.
Which was fine. It was fine. Better than fine, actually, because now Mike can start wondering if he imagined the whole thing. If, with time, the amount the memory replayed in his brain morphed it into something it wasn't. Maybe he made up the tension, the closeness, the flickering lights. Maybe it was just a pillow fight —or, more a pillow attack than anything— with no weird undertones. Maybe Mike was just a complete fucking creep for obsessing over a friendly moment so much when Will meant nothing by it.
Whatever the case, the night went on like normal, they went to bed with nothing more about it said, and Mike tried not to lose it completely.
—
Mike had always loved the sound of Will's voice.
When they were young, Mike was always the one talking, his mouth moving before his thought was fully formed half the time. Will was more quiet, more reserved with his words. It made everything he said to Mike feel valuable, made him feel like he was worth something. When they got older —and Will's voice deepened, the sound that washed over him like honey— he could never quite shake the thrill he got from having Will talk to him, to have his full attention solely on him.
Because if there was anything he liked more than Will's voice, it was having his attention.
And, well, he sure had it now.
Mike's not even sure how they ended up in this position: Mike, sitting against his bed frame, Will, a few inches away, looking up at him through his lashes and so, so close. Will was leaning forward on his knees, one of either side of Mike's legs, which were straight out in front, his hand outstretched and barely brushing against his arm.
This was everything he'd dreamed of, and it was fucking terrifying.
"Mike." Will repeated, voice murmuring in a way that made his insides alight on fire. His fingers traced a random shape on Mike's arm, leaving a trail of burnt skin.
He swallowed, unable to say anything, just like before, in the basement —god, how long had it been since then? This was all too much, too quickly. He needed to leave, to get space, get out of here.
Will's other hand came up and cradled the side of Mike's face, his thumb swiping gentle streaks across his cheek. Mike's eyes fluttered close, getting lose in the sensation. His mind screamed at him to run. He stayed put.
"Stay." Will's voice almost floated over.
Mike opened his eyes. Will was even closer now, somehow. His eyes were what Mike noticed first; he'd never seen them filled with such an intensity before. There was something about his gaze that was deeply unsettling, something predatory, almost.
This wasn't Will. Something wasn't right.
Will frowned, the expression looked wrong.
Mike started to panic. He could feel his grasp on reality start to fade. Will's grip on his arm tightened so much it almost hurt.
Mike opened his eyes to a dark ceiling.
He didn't move for a good minute, his heart still racing from the dream. Mike tossed an arm over his eyes and held back a scream. He needed to get this under control. He can't keep having dreams about almost kissing his best friend, not when said best friend was sleeping on his floor, and not when he almost did not even a full day prior.
For God's Sake, Will felt Vecna move yesterday, there were larger issues at hand.
Without thinking, Mike slipped out of his bed and made the trek downstairs for another glass of water. It sort of helped last night, and if having this same stupid dream was going, might as well make staying hydrated a part of it.
He was halfway done with his glass when he heard footsteps.
This time, Mike didn't freeze.
He met Holly in the hallway.
"Hey, Holly, wake up." Mike said, slightly shaking her shoulders.
Thankfully, Holly woke up right away this time.
She looked up at Mike, terrified. "Mike?"
"Yeah?" He asked, a shot of worry shooting through him at Holly's distress. "What's wrong, are you okay?"
She let out a half sob, collapsing into him. "How do you make him go away?"
Mike wrapped his arms around her, dropping his head to rest of her shoulders. "Whose 'him'?"
"Mr. Whatsit." She pressed her face harder into his stomach. Mike vaguely recalled the name from the previous night.
"He's the one who wants to take you to wonderland, right?"
She nodded. "He's been wanting me to go for weeks, he made it seem so fun at first, but I don't want to go anymore. He was so scary today. I told him I didn't want to go but he wouldn't leave me alone."
Mike clenched his jaw. He couldn't do much against figments of Holly's dreams.
He pulled back slightly, still keeping her close, but now looking into her eyes.
"Hey, listen to me. Mr. Whatsit can't hurt you here, okay? He's in your dreams, acting all tough and scary, but out here, in the real world? You're safe."
"And if he becomes real?" She whispered.
"I'll protect you. Or Nancy will, or Mom. Nothing will happen to you, I promise." He answered, pulling her back into a hug.
Holly quietly sobbed into his chest, as Mike felt a new fear stir inside him. No one was truly safe in Hawkins. Not anymore.
Mike and squeezed her tighter.
He stayed with Holly for longer, waiting until she was fully okay —and had promised to come get him if Mr. Whatsit was scaring her again— before he returned to his room. This time, as he clicked the door shut, he was met with Will, half sitting up in his sleeping bag, rubbing his eyes.
Mike winced. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."
Will shook his head. "You didn't. Where were you?"
"Just getting some water." Which, only now, as he sat down on the edge of his bed, did he remember he left the half finished glass sitting on the counter. Oh well, he'll deal with it in the morning when he mother scolds him for it.
Will hummed in response, but even in the dark, Mike could tell something was bothering him. "Everything okay?"
He hesitated, glancing up at Mike before looking back down. "I… don't know. It's like-" He waved, huffing, "I woke up feeling like something was urgent. But now that I'm awake, nothing feels any different."
"Something felt urgent with Vecna?" Will nodded.
"Yeah, like something was about to change, but didn't."
Mike's skin prickled. "A false alarm? How does that even happen? Did your subconscious think it felt something when it didn't?"
"I don't even know." Will sighed, laying back down in his sleeping bag. I'm just so tired of it all."
Mike sat on the edge of his bed, looking at Will, gazing up at him from his sleeping bag.
"Sometimes it feels like it'll never end. That, even if- or, when, we defeat Vecna, I'll still be haunted by him, either in my dreams or by something, in a way he'll always have the last laugh, you know?" He gave Mike a sad smile. "It's like he'll always a part of me in ways I can't escape."
Call it the sleep deprivation, call it instinct, or call it Mike still having the older sibling protector blood running through his system but he was on his knees next to Will in an instant. Mike squeezed his shoulder.
"No, no. Will, one day you're going to be free of that bastard, I swear. You're going to have a normal, peaceful life in some nice apartment or house with all your incredible, masterful artworks all over the house, and you'll have a dog or a cat or whatever pet you want and-" He faltered here, hesitating for a moment, the words feeling wrong to leave his mouth, but the absence of them feeling too incriminating, "and a girl, if you'd want, and you're going to be free."
He looked into Will's eyes with the most resole stare he muster. His eyes looked glassy, and Mike swallowed a lump that had started to form in his own throat. "You're going to be free." He whispered again, voice breaking.
Will nodded slightly, breathing uneasy. "Okay." He whispered, voice trembling. "Okay."
Mike leaned down and hugged him before he could think twice about it. Even despite the awkward angle, Will reciprocated it instantly, his arms loosely wrapping around Mike's back. After a moment, Will leaned into it further, his arms tightening around his back, and he let out a small, content sigh.
In the back of his mind, Mike felt overwhelmed. His skin felt like too much had touched it, even if it was only two small hugs.
Most of his brain, though, was focused on feeling how Will's body fit against his, how his warmth seeped straight through his own skin and straight into Mike's heart. How it felt so right.
He dropped his head into the crook of Will's neck, allowing himself this little moment, stolen away during the dead of night.
"We'll get through this." He mumbled. "We'll get through this together." Will hugged him tighter.
—
Saturday was mostly uneventful, which, after the night Mike had, he was very thankful for. Sleep did not come easy to him after he extracted his body from Will's, his mind too on edge to calm down.
Saturdays were training days, when the whole Party crowded around the outskirts of the Cabin to work on whatever thing Hopper decided. Mike was never a huge fan of them. He wasn't given gun training —not after his disastrous first attempt at shooting— and while he normally just watched Will do it, Nancy caught him staring, and looked at him like she had Friday night, all too knowing. Mike pointedly did not look in Will's direction for the rest of the morning.
He half-assed his nail-bat training with Steve, then remembered yesterday's revelation, and put in twice as much effort.
Steve tried his best, but there was a reason Mike never did sports. His limbs were too long and awkward, and he could never quite gain enough control of the bat. But apparently today he did well enough to receive not one, but two whole compliments from Steve, so, big win there.
The rest of the day —though it was already starting to get dark when he arrived— was spent at the shelter with Dustin, helping out where he could and staying out of the way where couldn't, while Lucas and Will went to see Max. Shelter work was nice, it kept him busy, on his feet, and unable to think to hard about anything else, which is what Mike needed.
By the time he got back, dinner had been long since served. He saw his plate of chicken in the fridge with a note from his mother. He didn't eat it.
The night passed by slowly. It was late, Mike sat against his headboard, lazily flipping through a comic, more looking at the pictures that reading —with his lamp on it cast a weird glare over most the comic, and the words were hard to distinguish in the minimal light— when Will came back, looking surprised to see him.
"Oh. Thought you'd be asleep by now." He closed the door softly behind him. Mike sighed, tossing the comic on his bedside table.
"Wasn't tired yet." He mumbled, fighting back an obvious yawn.
Will shot him a look, but didn't comment on the obvious lie. By now he was well aware of Mike's disdain of his family's new found church obsession, and had been on the receiving end of quite a few rants about the matter. It wasn't worth it bringing it up again.
"How was the weekly Hopper-Byers family dinner tonight?" He asked, watching as Will shrugged off his jacket and laid it on the back his chair.
"Like it always was." He said, pointedly. "Nothing out of the ordinary."
Mike hummed in response, letting his head fall back against the headrest as Will dug through his side of the dresser.
They sat in the silence for a moment, before Will spoke up. "How bad would it be if you didn't go tomorrow?"
Mike raised his eyebrows and looked over at Will, who had paused his search, looking up at him. "Pretty bad. You remember two months ago when I got sick? Mom was pissed that I didn't go."
Will winced. "Right, don't know how I forgot about that, you were throwing up all day."
He groaned. "Don't make me relive that week please, change the subject."
"Okay okay, fine." Will hesitated. "How bad are the sermons getting? I mean, there's only so much you can blame the Devil for all of Vecna's bullshit, right?"
Mike froze, last weeks sermon flashing through his mind, Pastor John, spiting vitriol. He swallowed.
There wasn't a way to avoid the topic without lying or completely avoiding the question as a whole. He wasn't sure what was worse.
"It's…" He paused, then sighed. "He's moved on from Hawkins, actually. Last week he was, um, talking about gay people. Said AIDS was a punishment, all that kind of bullshit." Mike picked at a thread on his comforter. "It's just so stupid. Even if God was real, I bet he wouldn't give a flying fuck who somebody loved, as long as they were a good person, you know?"
Mike swallowed again, his hands shaking, but he kept going; once he started he couldn't stop the cascade of words and anger tumbling out. "And they're so pretentious about it too, as if a guy finding another guy hot is any different than when a women thinks a guy's hot, its the same fucking feeling! It's such bullshit." He sneered.
Will didn't say anything. His lamp flickered, and when Mike glanced over at it he saw Will, frozen like a stature, staring at him with an unreadable expression.
"Oh." Was all Will said.
Mike shrunk back in on himself and looked away. "So, um. Yeah, I guess you could say it's pretty bad."
He looked over when Will didn't respond. His eyes were watery. Mike starting panicking, he was about to speak when Will shook his head.
"You're so…" Will shook his head, cutting himself off. "Its nice to know there's at least one sensible person in this town." He chuckled, it sounded wet. Mike leaned his head against the headboard and closed his eyes, filled with a strange relief.
"I have to be." He muttered, so quiet there was a chance —one he was hoping for, after the reality of what he said dawned on him— Will didn't even hear. The admission was a small one, vague enough the meaning could be twisted around. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, in a way. It was the closest Mike had gotten to voicing the whirlpool of feelings crashing around inside him.
The rustling of clothes continued.
Now, look, Mike wasn't trying to look at Will, okay? But his stupid light kept flickering, and it was bothering him even while he eyes were closed. He opened his eyes fully planning to see what the hell its problem was, when he saw Will, half way through taking his shirt off.
It was like all of the air had been knocked out of the room. The warm light from his lamp —when it was on— grazed over the dips and curves of his back. Mike wanted nothing more than to traces his fingers along the skin, feeling how it would move under his hand.
Guilt crept up his throat, but he couldn't look away. It was such a simple movement, but it was mesmerizing.
Will's pj shirt broke the spell, covering Will's skin from Mike's sight. He tore his eyes away and returned to his previous position, this time staring straight up at the ceiling as he tried to steady his breathing. God, what a creep. After the conversation they'd just had, staring at his best friends back while he changed? It was like he had a giant blinking red sign that screamed 'I have feelings for you' pointed straight at Will.
The guilt felt like it would swallow him whole, it's tendrils wrapped around his heart and preventing it from beating.
He waiting until he heard Will get in his sleeping bag —until he knew it was safe to look again— before he moved, tossing the unread comic on his nightstand and turned off the lamp.
They said their goodnights, and Mike settled into his bed, fully prepared for another night of no sleep.
—
Mike was going to lose his mind.
Will was acting strange again, standing in front of Mike —who was seated on the edge of his bed— peering down at him. The atmosphere was heavy, Mike's heart beat fast and quick. Will's hand came up and cradled the side of his face again. Mike leaned into it.
Distantly, Mike was aware he was dreaming. He knew this wasn't real. Real Will would never look at him like that. But Mike was just so tired, he couldn't find it in him to push Fake Will away.
Will's thumb rested on top of Mike's mouth, pushing down slightly on his lower lip. His breath hitched, and Will smiled, laughing slightly.
He leaned in close, a playful smile on his lips. "Are you going to stay this time?" He asked, voice smooth and airy.
Mike closed his eyes, unable to deal with it all. Will, still holding his face, lifted it, and placed a soft, gentle, searing kiss on his neck. His mouth stayed there, before leaving a trail of kisses up to his face, stopping right at the corner of his mouth. Mike trembled beneath him.
Will pulled back, leaving enough space for him to look dead in his eyes, but staying close enough that Mike couldn't focus on anything else if he tried. Mike's gaze fluttered all across Will's face. This was all too much, he could feel his resolve breaking. He leaned back in, keeping a surly calculated distance away, close enough that his mouth barely grazed his own, that Mike could feel every puff of breath against his face, but far enough that they were not yet touching.
"Mike." He murmured. The last bit of restraint he had dissolved.
Mike moved, shooting his hand out to pull Will into a kiss.
And for the first time in weeks, Mike slept through the night.
—
"Mike!" Someone pounded on the door. "Mike are you up!"
Mike groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes before yelling back a partially intelligible confirmation. He could hear Will shifting in his sleeping bag beside him.
Nancy slammed open his door. Mike sat half up in his bed, about to yell at her for barging into his room, when she beat him to it. "Mike get up we have an issue."
That woke him up. "What? What's wrong?"
The sleeping bag shifted, and Mike glanced over to see Will sitting up as well, rubbing his eyes.
"We can't find Holly, have you seen her?"
Mike felt his blood run cold. "Shit."
"Do you know where she could be-"
"Mr. Whatsit." He blurted out, before he could think about it.
Nancy paused. "What?"
"Mr. Whatsit, he's this guy Holly's been having dreams about. She said he's been trying to get her to go to this wonderland or something. I've caught her sleepwalking twice this week, heading for the front door."
Nancy ran a hand through her hair. "Jesus Mike why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't think she'd actually get out!" He swung his legs off the side of his bed, about to jump out of bed when he caught sight of Will.
He was frozen, staring straight off into space, breathing heavily.
"Will?"
Will slowly turned to Mike. He looked horrified.
"I know where she is."
Nancy turned to him. "What?"
"He took her."
Mike and Nancy shared a look, the realization dawning on them at the same time.
Mike scrambled for his walkie.
—
Mike was barely present during the meeting. He was there physically, sure, talking and strategizing with everyone. But it was like he was watching it all unfold in third person, like he wasn't in control of his own body.
Will was the one taking the lead; he could feel Vecna moving, actively, and he could feel what things were important or not to him. He could feel his triumph at finally getting Holly —the word finally made him want to throw up— and the general area of where he was keeping her.
Which was, strangely, in Vecna's own mind.
Eventually, the plan they settled on was, honestly, not great.
The Party was split into two groups, one to venture into the Upside Down and one to stay put. Him, Nancy, El, Will, Dustin, Hopper, Steve, Robin, and Jonathan was in group one. Once inside the Upside Down, they'd split again, this time into three groups. Nancy, El, and Hopper where focused on finding Holly. Him, Will and Dustin would go to the Church, and the older teens would go to the library, both locations Will said he felt a connection too, and cause a distraction.
Lucas, would stay with Max at the hospital, under the assumption she was with Holly in Vecna's mind. Joyce and Murray were on look out, keeping an eye out on the gates and making sure they wouldn't get trapped inside.
Mike had a bad feeling about the whole thing. Something was off. He trusted Will completely, but there was this itch in the back of his head that he couldn't fully ignore.
Nothing was attacking them.
The whole way to the Upside Down, and even once they split off again, it was quiet. And that scared Mike more.
"This place looks awful." Dustin stated, plainly. And he was right.
The outside of the church looked far worse than the one on the surface. Here, it still looked as it had before its upgrades two years ago, when the far left window was still boarded up from vandalizers, and the doors still creaked open like they were dying.
But the Upside Down had added its touch too; slimy, black tentacles wrapped all around the outside, almost as if embracing it in a cold embrace.
"It certainly looks like Vecna's here." Mike half muttered, ignoring Dustin's sigh as he rummaged through his backpack —probably looking for their lighters— and sneaked a glance at Will, who seemed more far away than he had been all day. He hadn't said a word since they flipped.
He pursed his lips, fighting the urge to ask if he was okay. They were in the Upside Down, the prime location of his trauma, of course he wasn't okay.
Dustin approached the wooden doors, reaching out his hand and letting his fingers graze against the wood. "Do you think these doors still work? They look like they'll crumble if you breath too hard near them."
Mike, Will a few steps behind, followed him to the door. "Does it matter?"
"We still don't even know whats here, do we?" Dustin asked, sending a glance back at Will, who didn't answer.
"Whats important isn't whats behind the doors, its drawing as much attention away from El as possible." Mike replied, switching his lantern to the other hand.
Dustin grimaced. "Let's just get it over with."
This is a horrible idea, Mike thought, using his shoulder to push open the wooden doors.
Inside was worse. It was a dark, almost black abyss, the far end of the hall completely shrouded in darkness; The old, flicking lamp Mike held out only illuminating a few feet in front of them.
Taking a deep breath, Mike slowly ventured forward past the threshold of the Church.
"Oh shit." Will mumbled behind him.
Before Mike could even glance behind him, the Church doors slammed shut, the resulting bang echoing around them. Mike jumped, dropping his lantern next to him.
"Shit, shit." Mike turned around, watching Will reach for his shotgun.
Before Mike could ask where Dustin was, a knotted, red vine wrapped around his leg, yanking him to the side.
He yelped, scrambling as the vine dragged him further down the hall and into the abyss. The vine released him halfway down the center aisle where, strangely, it was no longer dark. Lit candles were scattered across all the steps, casting the whole church in a warm glow.
And there, all the way at the top, framed perfectly in the large stained glass window, stood Vecna himself, vines slithering along the walls and floor around him.
Mike struggled to get up, to get away from the monster before him.
"Hello, Michael." Vecna lifted his hand, a vine shot out and grabbed onto his arm. "Welcome to your demise."
"Fuck you." He spat, struggling against his grip.
Bangs from across the hall, Mike looked to see Will shooting the multiple vines that approached him. Despite the terror rippling through his body, Mike was glad he was the one Vecna was focusing on, for once.
The vine through him against a wall, hard. His arm took most of the blunt impact, as he hit the ground with a thud. He groaned, vision spinning as his arm pulsed in pain.
From down the hall, Will screamed.
Will.
Pushing himself up against the wall, he spotted Will, vines on either leg, dragging him down the center aisle just like Mike had been.
Moving on pure fear, he scrambled around the Church pews in pursuit of Will. He'd fight off the vines bare handed if he had to, if that's what it took to keep Will safe.
Mike couldn't lose him again.
You won't, he told himself, jumping over vines. His knee smacked against the wood end caps of the benches, but he barely noticed the sting.
The vines were fast, faster than Mike was; his chest was burned from exertion.
Mike was barely within reach when he stumbled over a vine, crashing into one of the pews. A vine wrapped around his leg, flinging him back towards the entrance.
His arm, the same one that had been crushed by the previous throw, hit one of the benches as he was midair. Sending sharp, shooting pain all throughout his body, only made worse when he tumbled on the ground.
"Mike!"
He barely heard Will through the ringing in his ears, but he instinctively tried to follow the sound. He saw Will, eyes on Mike as the vines dragged him up the alter.
No, he tried to say, but all that could come out were coughs, don't focus on me.
Slowly —and with great support from a nearby bench— he stumbled to his feet, his legs moving forward before he was fully upright.
Mike scrambled along the pews like his life depended on it. Like Will's life depended on it.
The aisles were never ending, the space between them always too far away, Will always just out of reach. The vines raised Will up in a sick imitation of the Son of God, keeping him eye level with Vecna, trembling underneath the vines.
Mike kept moving.
He wasn't quick enough.
Time slowed down. Vecna looked past Will at Mike, a few rows too far away. He raised his hand. A vine stabbed Will. Right through the chest.
Mike stopped dead in his tracks.
He could see the vine protruding out through his back, could hear Will groan in pain, the sound deafening in the now dead-quiet Church, could see a ring of red around the vine slowly get bigger and bigger.
Mike screamed, his mind and legs kick starting as the vines around and in Will retreated, leaving Will kneeling in front of the alter, clutching at his chest.
"Will," Mike gasped, falling to his knees in front of him. "Oh my god Will."
Mike, as carefully and quickly as he could, moved him so Will was facing upwards. His eyes frantically bouncing around his wound, as his mind racing for the first aid knowledge Hopper had drilled into them.
He put as much pressure on the wound as he could, shucking off his jacket as using as a makeshift bandage.
Will hand slowly wrapped around his wrist.
"Mike." He started, before breaking of into a cough. A bit of blood dribbled out of his mouth, his eyes drenched in pain. Mike sobbed, feeling tears leak from the corners of his eyes.
"No." He pushed sightly harder, as if he could get the bleeding to stop from will alone. "I'm not letting you die." Mike's voice cracked, "You can't- not now, not- Will."
Will smiled up at him, pained. Mike moved one of his hands to cradle the back of his head. His hair felt soft. "It's okay. You'll be okay." He murmured, barely audible. His eyes fluttering shut.
"It's okay." He repeated, one last time.
He went still. Will's head drooped to the side in Mike's hand.
Mike screamed.
—
Mike was going to die. He was going to die and it was Will's fault.
He knew there was something up with the church —when Holly disappeared, and a constant thought, a constant need to go there began, it wasn't hard to put together. And it made sense; the urge only got stronger, so it's important to Vecna must be great.
Will had thought, originally, that he wasn't supposed to feel its importance. That it was a mistake on Vecna's part. And, well, they were going to need every advantage they could get, every distraction they could find. They’d be fools not to go after here.
It all happened so quickly, only after the plans were agreed and acted on did the unease start to settle. Will had assumed it was because he was back in the Upside Down after four years —and that certainly didn't help.
But when the Church doors slammed shut behind him and Mike —and just him and Mike— did he feel it.
He wasn't exploiting a loop hole, he led them into a trap.
And now, as Will stared up at Mike's hovering body, watching in horror as he twitched under Vecna's outstretched hand, he was going to pay for it.
Will struggled against the vines, fighting as more slithered across his chest, keeping him flush against the now shut Church doors. His gun was somewhere unknown, knocked out of his hands almost instantly. The vines wasted no time pinning him to the wall, he barely had time to notice Mike was tranced.
A growl escaped from Will's throat. "Let him go."
Vecna hummed, a disturbing sound coming from his deep, mangled voice. It made his blood boil and turn cold all at once.
Will —call it his true sight, or all it Vecna being a fucking asshole who wanted nothing but to make him suffer— could see Mike's vision, just off to the right of him. It was as if someone had taken a lighter to reality and burned a hole through it, dissolving away into Mike's false reality.
He watched a vine wrap around Vision Mike's leg and flung him across the Church hall. Real Mike's arm snapped with a vicious crack, a sound that pierced straight through Will's chest. He felt like throwing up.
"Why?" Vecna asked, simple and taunting.
Will swallowed. A sickening realization flooding his mind.
He knew why.
Ever since he woke up in a hospital bed, alive, hearing the stories of super-powered girls and that Nancy's friend was still rotting underneath. Ever since he felt the Mind Flayer intruding into every crevice of his mind, ever since he became a part of the Upside Down in everything but name. Ever since he came back to Hawkins and he finally had a name to the shadow that haunted him for years.
Ever since that first night, back in 1983. When the monster didn't just kill him, but took him.
It was something he always knew, deep down, even if Will had never let himself admit it.
“Because you want me.”
He forced the words out, each one feeling like a knife piercing through his chest, voicing the truth he’d been avoiding for years.
“You want me, not him.” Will’s voice shook, but he didn’t falter. His anger at watching Mike get trapped in a vision overcame the fear screaming inside his mind. “So let him go.”
"Not yet, William. I need something from you."
Will snarled, and the vines tightened further, one sliding over his throat for a moment. A threat.
"You have a gift. Something no one else sees, no one else can see." He walked closer, leaving Mike's floating body behind him. Will pressed himself back against the wall. "But I do. Do you know why?"
He brought a mangled claw up to his chin and lifted it. "Because I was just like you."
"I'm nothing like you." Will forced out, choking back on his own fear.
Vecna dropped his hand and took a step back, tilting his head slightly. "Perhaps not yet."
Over Vecna's shoulder, he could see Mike in his vision, trying to make it to Will. He saw the vision version of himself be lifted up by the vines before one stabbed him straight through the chest. Blood rushed to his ears as he heard Vision-Mike scream his name.
He watched in horror as Vision-Mike cradled him, sobbing.
"I'm the key, William. I will unlock your potential."
He felt it; the pushing. The pulsing. He felt him, trying to break through, to control him like had years ago. He could feel his want. It made him sick.
Will heard Vision Mike scream again. Somehow that was worse.
He closed his eyes.
…
Clarity.
It was an odd feeling.
Will knew what he had to do.
He opened his eyes with a new sense of purpose, no doubt in his mind. Through the connection he could feel Vecna's smugness, he already knew he'd won. That bastard.
"You'll let him go?" Will asked, as much strength as he could muster.
"I will not hurt him any more."
Will shouldn't trust him, couldn't, not after everything. But they were out of luck. He had to save Mike. The pushing got stronger, the pulsing so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts.
He looked at Mike, still floating in the air. He let himself look, one last time, before closing his eyes.
I'm sorry.
Will let go, and opened the floodgates in his mind.
—
Mike could barely think. He could barely see through his tears, and what he could see was all red. His arm vibrated in pain, the blood on his hands felt sticky and was far too much.
He could barely form a thought that wasn't Will —that wasn't Will bloody and dead.
He was only vaguely aware that Vecna was still behind him, that he could strike him down right here, and he didn't care. If anything he'd welcome it.
Mike couldn't picture a life without Will. Even in his worst moments, even during the first week where he went missing, there was no doubt in his mind they'd find Will, because a life without him didn't exist.
It was Mike and Will. It was both of them. It didn't work if it was only him.
After everything, everything, to think the boy he loved with every inch of his being, who'd survived things unheard of, was underneath him, bloodied and unmoving.
Dead.
Mike pushed his hands back down on Will chest-
They hit the ground.
Mike froze. Then panicked, hands searching for the man he saw in front of through blurry eyes. He blinked furiously, clearing them as best he could. He hands were going straight through Will's bloody stomach, the very sight of Will himself starting to fade away.
Mike scrambled, trying to reach out and grasp him, to hold onto any part of Will as he faded out from existence. "Will!"
Everything went dark.
Pain zipped like lighting across his entire body, his arm most of all. Mike groaned. It was only when his vision stopped spinning enough for him to make out the sight of the Church ceiling, did it click.
Oh, shit.
Mike stumbled to his feet once again, almost sobbing with relief when he saw no trace of red on his hands. He spotted Vecna first, standing with his head leaned back. Then Will hunched over in front of the Church doors, countless vines swarming around —but not touching, leaving a perfect border around him.
Mike took off in his direction, horrified that he was once again too late, except this time it would be truly real.
Not caring about the monster beside him, he crouched at Will's side, shaking his shoulder.
"Will!? Oh my god Will are you okay? Please are- are you okay?" He didn't respond. Mike held his face in his hands. "Oh god Will please look at me, please be okay."
"He's more than okay." Vecna rumbled behind him.
Mike glared behind him, ignoring the prickle of fear as Vecna's eyes remained unmoving from him for the righteous anger that flooded his veins at hearing him speak.
"What did you do?" He grit out.
"I freed him."
Mike felt Will look up before he saw it. His eyes locked with Mike's own, dark and soulless. Mike swallowed.
Will stood, not caring about Mike's attempts at holding onto his shoulders or his protesting whines, and his attempt at standing was thwarted by Will shoving him down to the floor.
"You've been holding him back, Michael." Vecna's voiced boomed throughout the Church hall, the low vibrations rattling around before piercing straight through his heart. "You know a caged bird wont fly, is that all he is to you? A pretty decoration by your side?"
Mike growled, once again trying to stand, before Will sent a kick straight to his chest, knocking him over completely. While gazing up at Will's unblinking stare, it was easy to realize this was not Will. But the concept of Will hurting him was so far removed from his mind that it still took him completely by surprise.
"No, he is so much more than that."
"He's not your fucking pawn!" Mike spat. "Fight me yourself, you fucking coward."
Will grabbed Mike's arm and slammed him against the Church doors, one hand wrapped around his neck, the other on his shoulder, keeping him pinned. Vecna walked into Mike's line of sight, stopping a hare behind Will.
"No. Your hold on William runs too deep, he was willing to trade his life for yours, you know." Mike gasped, the pressure on his neck just enough to hurt, for him to feel it. "That connection must be broken."
His hand clenched around his neck. Mike closed his eyes, his hands clawing at the hand around his neck, trying to pry it off. Will's grip was unmoving.
Mike realized two things simultaneously.
One, he would not hurt Will.
He couldn't bring himself to harm the man he'd loved for so long, not after everything, even if he managed to escape from his death grip, he could not risk hurting Will.
Two, he could feel his strength leaving, rapidly.
He would not escape this. He would die, right here.
Mike opened his eyes, if only to look at Will one last time. A single tear fell down Will's face.
Overcome by a flood of emotions all at once, he used the last bit of his strength he had to tap out three words onto Will's hand in weak, frantic morse code.
Three words he could never say out loud —and now never will— but he felt so deep to his core it was part of his DNA.
I love you.
Something explodes —there's a loud crash to his left, and a burst of light Mike barely registers and before he collapsed to the ground, back against the wall, gasping for breath.
When Mike gains enough oxygen back in his body to look, he spots his dropped lantern, laying on it's side a few feet away, completely blown apart.
He gazed up at Will, whose eyes still looked unfocused and distant, but held a new found spark. A trickle of blood slowly dripping down from his nose.
A breathless, small laugh escaped out of Mike.
Mike was never religious. He'd never felt anything for a God that never seemed to care for him, always thought it was stupid how easily people would through their lives away all in the name of God.
But in that moment, as he stared up at Will, watching sparks of electricity dance across his skin and from his fingertips, he understood why people devoted their lives following a man who made miracles.
Will, in all his electric glory, looked down upon Mike, who already knelt at his feet. In that moment, if he asked Mike to leave everything, to follow him, he'd say yes before the words even left Will's mouth.
"There we go." Vecna's voice rumbled, breaking up the near spiritual experience Mike was having. "Finish him."
Mike locked eyes with Will. Will was still there, he was still present, just like last time, in the shed.
The electricity sparked started to grow, the sparks getting longer and larger, creating a sort of ball of lightning.
Mike knew what he had to do
"Will, please, I know you're there. You can fight him I know that, you can fight him and you can win. You're stronger than him."
Vecna stepped forward. "You speak highly for someone who is no position to resist."
Unable to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching up into a smile, he looked at Vecna dead in the eyes. "Maybe you should have a chat with Stormtrooper Number 5763, I think he'd blow your mind."
Vecna narrowed his eyes, entirely unimpressed.
But Mike wasn't talking to him. He heard Will's breath catch ever so slightly, barely noticeable. He saw the twitch of his fingers as the lighting ball continued to grow.
And that was all he needed.
"Finish it, William."
Mike closed his eyes. He saw a little boy in homemade wizard robes and a sick ass stick, grinning big and wide as he twirled and cast spells on the leaves floated around him.
And for once, Mike wasn't scared.
He trusted Will, trusted him more than anyone else. He saw flashes of light from behind his eyelids get brighter and brighter. He lifted his head up, fully accepting whatever fate would befall him.
For, even if he was wrong, and he died here. Even if this was Mike's last moment, it would be worth it, to die trusting Will. To have him be his final thought.
"Fuck. You."
Mike opened his eyes, gasping as he watched Will turn, around sending the lighting hurling backwards towards Vecna. The force of it sending flying backwards.
"Will." He breathed out, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.
Will turned his head to him slowly, moving against an invisible force, actively fighting Vecna's control.
Mike had never wanted to kiss him so bad as he did in this moment.
The church doors slammed open.
In stormed El, wiping her face, looking furious.
"El!"
She stopped when she caught site of Will, a thousand emotions flashing over her face at once, glancing between him and Vecna across the hall.
"Let's end this." Will called out. El nodded.
The two of them looked back at Vecna a new found determination in their eyes.
Dustin appeared to his left, slinging an arm over his shoulder and raising him to his feet. He was saying something, but none of it registered. He was too focused on watching El hold him in place as Will shot endless beams of lighting at him, full on Emperor Palpatine style, as Hopper and Nancy —when did they arrive— fired round after round into him.
Dustin grabbed his arm —his good one, thankfully— with more force, practically dragging him out of the church and into the backseat of Hopper's car.
Looking through the windshield, he could see flashes of light from the open doors the a few stray sparks flying outside the parameter. It was mesmerizing.
After what felt like an eternity, the three existed, El supporting Will like Dustin had done moment ago, Hopper on his other side, wearing looks of pure relief.
"Holy shit." Dustin breathed, beside him.
Mike nodded, slowly. "Holy shit."
—
Everything that happened after was a blur.
The ride back was awkward, with him, El and Dustin squished in the backseat and Will —now passed out— laying awkwardly across their legs. Will's head was on Mike's lap, his fingers inching to run through his hair, and a few times he did indulged, too exhausted to care.
Everyone met up at the hospital.
They were right, Vecna had trapped Holly in the same place Max was kept, hidden away inside a maze of his past memories. Lucas, through Kate Bush, had told her their plan to weaken the physical wall. Max —thankfully— had been able to hear it, and she and Holly attacked it from inside, as everyone else gave it everything they had.
Nancy said they burned a wall through it fairly easily, way quicker than they were expecting —which made sense, considering Vecna's focus had been on him and Will.
When they radioed Dustin to fill him in, he frantically told them about their issues. The three handed Holly and Max off to the other distraction crew, and they rushed over.
Now, mostly everyone sat in the hospital waiting room in silence. There was a certain fragileness to the peace it all, as if one word spoken could break the illusion of it all being over. As if everyone was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Mike curled and uncurled his fingers into a fist. His left arm had already been set and in a cast, and while there was still a little dull pain, it was manageable. It was better than Max, at least. She was blind, and her legs were very weak. The doctors said she might be able to regain a little strength in them with time and physical therapy, but she would have to use a wheelchair for the time being.
Mike glanced over, watching Holly sleep, head resting against Max's legs. She refused to sit in one of the chairs, instead choosing to sit on the floor and lean on Max, who was chatting quietly with Lucas, their hands together and resting on the armrest between them.
Mike bounced his leg, glancing down the hallway at Joyce and Jonathan, who was mid conversation with the doctor who was helping Will.
Nancy tapped his good arm. "Hey."
He jolted in surprise, sort of forgetting she had sat down next to him a few minutes ago. "He'll be okay, you know."
Mike pursed his lips. "I know."
"Hey, look at me." She said after a moment, voice softer than it had been before.
He swallowed, but turned to her. "It's okay."
Nancy's eyes held too much, they were too knowing.
He gave her a smile back, understanding. "I know."
She squeezed his arm once before retreating her hand. "If anyone says any different I'll kick their ass."
Mike choked out a laugh. "I don't doubt it."
"Good."
Jonathan walked over to the two of them. Mike swallowed.
"He asked to see you."
Mike was out of his seat in an instant.
He knocked softly on the hospital door before entering. Will was laying down on the hospital bed, a dozen machines and wires hooked up to him.
“Hey.” He said, softly.
Will turned to look at him, a smile breaking out over his face. “Hey.”
Mike moved the chair to the side of Will’s bed. “How are you feeling?”
Will sighed. “Tired, mostly.”
“What, the three hours you were out wasn’t enough rest?” Mike asked, a teasing tilt to his voice. Will chuckled.
“No, I think I need to sleep for an entire year once I get out of here.” Will shifted, sitting up in the bed a little more. Mike noticed his arms.
Faint white lines ran up and down all over, a series of interconnecting lines and curves. Without thinking, Mike’s fingers reached out, and brushed against them. It took a second for Mike to realize what he was doing and started to retreat. Will grabbed his wrist with his other hand, stopping it. He slowly pushed Mike’s hand back onto his arm.
Mike swallowed, and started tracing the lines.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” He looked up at Will, who looked at him like he’d hung the moon. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you were the Party’s heart, you know. That you were my heart.”
Mike froze. He pictured the painting, hanging up by his bed.
My heart.
A final puzzle piece clicked into place.
Mike blushed, looking down, a smile spreading across his face. He traced a scar that ran all the way down to Will’s hand. After a moment of contemplation, –screw it, what else did he have to lose– he grabbed his hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the back of it.
Will’s breath hitched.
Mike gently lowered his hand back to the bed. Will interlocked their hands, and squeeze four morse code words.
I love you too.