Chapter Text
Rain’s soaking through Mike’s socks. It’s still coming down in sheets, turning his surroundings into a blur of dark, tree-shaped shadows. He can just about make out Will a few steps ahead of him, leading the way. He’s not even sure why he’s following him. This is really the opposite of what they should be doing right now—turning around, keeping Will inside, not running toward the obvious danger.
And then there’s the matter of what just happened. Even with the rain pouring down on his skin, Mike swears he can still feel Will’s breath ghosting over it. Was it even real? Nothing feels real at the moment, especially as the ground continues to shake and groan like a rusty machine.
How can Mike possibly be thinking about this right now? The world is, literally, crashing down around him, and his brain still manages to make this about Will. Because it always has been, it’s always been Will, Will, Will, Will.
Even now, as they come out onto a path, still wading through the deep puddles left by the week’s rainfall, Mike grimaces, wincing at the fresh memory of their argument. The things he’d said to Will. The idiotic assumptions. He wants to dwell, to ruminate on the fact that Will has just admitted something he’s been wanting to hear for the past few weeks—months, maybe years. Probably his whole life, really. He wants to figure out why it doesn’t bring the relief he thought it would.
Deep down, he wants to ask Will the reason. No, not why he lied—he knows that . He knows that it’s his fault. He knows he'd made it harder and harder for Will to open up about anything over the years, let alone confess his love. Which is exactly why he wants to ask Will the reason.
The reason why he loves him. Mike Wheeler, the guy who’s just… a jerk, to put it simply. A nobody.
Mike’s too caught up in his own thoughts to realise where he is or that Will has stopped walking in front of him. But when his shoes hit shingle, his pace slows down to a halt, and he gazes across at the sight reflected in Will’s eyes.
The gate that had been cracked across Lovers Lake is significantly smaller, but noticeably brighter, louder and redder than Mike has ever seen it. The water is rough, swirling like a windswept ocean, seemingly curling towards the mass of the gate in the middle, deep beneath the waves.
Most noticeable, however, is the angry, glowing red beam of light emanating from the centre, pointing toward the clouds, which are releasing heavy lashings of rain, creating millions of little ripples on the water.
But… there’s no sign of the others. No sign of anyone except the two of them. Mike hears himself speak, his voice sounding odd. “Is she…”
“She’s closing it from the inside.” Wills’ voice is unsteady, but resigned.
Mike’s heart hammers, and he instinctively turns slowly to Will, whose chest rises and falls heavily, eyes wide (as much as they can be in the rain), darting over the scene in front of him. His hair ruffles in the wind. His mouth’s parted a little in shock. How can he still be so, so–
Will’s demeanour shifts from one of shock with a sense of determination to one of terror. All of a sudden, his gaze turns distant, and Mike frowns, the itch to reach out to him nearly overwhelming. And with that, Will’s hand moves to the back of his neck again, his head slowly turning to catch Mike’s eye, and the look he gives him is electrifying in its fear.
“He’s… I can feel…” Will stammers, shivering, and Mike knows exactly what he means.
There are sudden, strange sounds surrounding them, and while it’s hard to make out what they are over the rain and the rumbling of the earth, Mike can sense their familiarity to Will, with the way he breaks their gaze to hurriedly scan their surroundings for danger.
Mike steps closer, worried. The light pouring out of the gate in the centre of the lake is flickering , sending new, odd sounds out with it. Mike can’t tell if it’s a good thing, though he does know that the gate has gotten smaller since he last saw it—maybe just a few months ago, when the tendrils had covered the entire shoreline.
“You can feel him?” Mike asks carefully, moving close enough to Will to be heard over the storm.
Will nods, the look he gives Mike making him shiver. “He’s…” His voice breaks, and his eyes are glistening with fresh tears. “He’s so angry , Mike.” He cuts himself off to take a few shallow breaths. “He wants… He wants…”
An uneasy, foreboding feeling begins to swirl in Mike’s stomach, writhing like the vines that curl at the edge of the shore.
Mike lowers his voice and his gaze. “He wants what?” Will doesn’t answer, his face frozen in horror, his breath coming in short bursts. Mike's voice grows more urgent as his throat tightens. “Will, please. What does he want?”
“Something… he failed to keep the last time,” Will breathes.
Mike ignores the lake roaring in front of them, his eyes fixed on Will’s face, lit up by a red glow, slack with dread and… desperation? Regret? He wishes he could unhear those words, undo all of this. He wishes they had just fled back to Mike’s house, kept safe and warm and together . And talked. About everything that happened.
But it’s never that simple.
“We need to get outta here.” Mike softens his voice, hoping Will understands and agrees. To his surprise, despite everything he’s said about feeling useless these past few days, Will nods shakily. But he doesn’t move, his eyes blinking rapidly, flitting over Mike as though trying to find something—anything—to hold onto.
The familiar feeling of longing wells up inside Mike again, and he questions whether he’s allowed to act on it now. He questions what Will thinks he’s doing to him, looking at him like that, like he’s waiting, like he wants something and–
The noises grow louder—a crash followed by some kind of slithering sound echoes around the lake. Will startles, his eyes snapping to the water in terror, hands still trembling, but he gravitates towards Mike. It’s when Will touches his arm that something clicks in Mike’s brain—he reaches out and gently grabs Will’s upper arm, backing away slightly.
He leans in so he doesn’t have to yell, knowing it would only terrify Will further. “C’mon let’s go.”
“Mike…” Will doesn’t turn towards him, his gaze locked on something in front of them, eyes glistening. He reaches out shakily to point at something near the shoreline. Mike’s eyes follow his finger slowly, heart pumping.
The vines near the waterline writhe, almost like… “It’s like… it’s like they’re in pain or something,” Mike says carefully. Something El is doing is working, and he has no time or energy to think about whether she’s going to be stuck in the Upside Down, or why she’s not here.
Will agrees, nodding his head with a grim look on his face. They both watch as the vines retreat into the water. Mike’s hand is still squeezed around Will’s arm, little surges of warmth travelling through his skin, making the cold a little easier to bear. Maybe this means it’s working? Maybe the sounds growing louder, almost like screaming —making both of them wince—means the gate is closing, hurting Vecna, hurting the hive mind.
The light dims a little, the beam shortening. Mike frowns. Is this… good?
Mike feels Will relax a little under his grip, so he does too. It only lasts a few seconds however, when Will tenses up even more than he had before, his muscles like stone. Mike turns to him with concern. He doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong.
Before he can speak, Will is opening his mouth, face mangled with fear.
“Hey, what… what’s going on?” Mike asks gently, though not without a hint of panic.
“Mike, he’s so angry , I– I’ve never felt this before.” Will’s voice cracks and it’s Mike’s limit, softening his hold on Will as he tries a comforting rub on his arm, slow and careful, as though he’s holding something precious. A pained noise comes from Will, his face screwing up in anguish.
“Will, Will, it’s okay, we just need to–”
A loud splashing rings out, but this time it’s close, thrashing and spitting water near the shore.
They barely have time to react when a vine lashes out of the lake, whipping toward them. Mike instinctively puts an arm out in front of Will, but it’s like the vine is clever—like it had anticipated that move.
In the span of just a few seconds, Mike watches helplessly as the vine curls possessively around Will’s calf, and he’s falling down, letting out a fearful yell. The vine’s going to pull him towards the water. Towards the gate. Almost like a last-ditch effort before it closes.
“Will!” Mike cries out, suddenly sick to his stomach.
Adrenaline shoots through his veins and he rushes forwards, desperately reaching for Will’s hand which also reaches out in return, fingers splayed. “ Mike! Mike help–” Will lets out a pained, strangled noise, and Mike can already see a cut on Will’s hand scraping against the sharp shards of slate.
It barely registers in his mind as he grabs the hand, squeezing it hard, his grip a lifeline. He puts all the strength that this shot of danger gave him into yanking Will back toward him. Will is pulled with a grunt, his face twisted in fear and pain, clutching fiercely, roughly, at Mike’s forearms before squeezing on.
“Mike, Mike, I–” The vine isn’t letting up, its strength is terrifyingly infinite, and Mike has a feeling it’s seriously crushing Will’s leg, visible from the despair on his face. Will clenches his jaw viciously, his eyes watering. “Don’t let me go– don’t–”
Mike pulls again, and for a brief moment, Will slides forward a little, giving him hope. “I got you, okay?” he scrambles out desperately, his voice strangled as he squeezes his eyes shut and pulls harder. “It’s gonna be alright, I got you, I got you!”
Will has his own eyes shut tight, his teeth bared and clenched like an injured animal. His eyes occasionally dart down to his leg, and his grunts of pain turn into cries. Tears make tracks down his dirt-and-blood-smeared face. “Mike I don’t know if–”
At the uncertainty in Will’s voice and the weakening grip on his arm, Mike panics. “No! No, Will, I got you, I swear, I swear !” he yells brokenly, his voice coming out rough and hoarse, like he’s been screaming for hours.
He clenches, grasps, squeezes at Will’s forearms, but the hope that had sparked earlier dwindles as he sees the pain taking its toll on Will. His eyes blink rapidly, and he’s stopped yelling now, but to be honest, Mike doesn’t think that’s a good sign.
“Will! You gotta– you gotta hold on !” Mike pleads, wishing he could breathe some of his own strength into him, swap places so he could be the one getting dragged, not Will. Not Will who doesn’t deserve any of this.
“Mi-ike–” Will manages quietly, his grip growing slacker as his eyes blink slowly. Mike has no idea how, but he swears the vine’s just growing stronger, more desperate, almost. Will’s still there, clenching his jaw, grunting in pain, but Mike can tell he’s slipping away from him.
Not now. Not like this.
He tries to pull as hard as he did earlier, but still, Will is dragged away a bit. For a moment, he slips out of Mike’s grip, dragged across the shingle again. His face scrapes the rough ground, leaving horrendous marks behind. When Mike manages to grab his hand again, Will makes a weak attempt to reciprocate, but he’s so weak that his grasp is barely a squeeze.
Mike’s heart sinks as he finally takes a look at Will’s face. He shuts his eyes, unable to look at the blood trickling down his jaw from a large gash over the side.
“I can’t–” Will chokes out, strangled. Mike can feel his muscles burning , his body trembling, and it hurts, it hurts so much. For so many reasons.
He lets out a yell, but his muscles protest, yelling back at him. The vine is relentless, tightening its hold.
“ Please! ” Mike begs nobody. “Please, don’t, don’t take– Please don’t take hi–”
When Will is torn from Mike’s grasp, his eyes widen for a brief moment, hands desperately clawing at Mike’s clothes, his hands, his arms, the shingle, the sand, and–
“No! No, Will! Will! ” Mike’s scream is raw, animalistic. He scrambles down the shore on his knees, every part of him refusing to accept what’s happening. This can’t be happening, this isn’t happening.
“Mi–” Will shouts before the water engulfs him, his voice drowned out.
His face disappears. All of him, gone. Underneath. Somewhere Mike can’t reach.
“ Will! ” Mike lets out a long, guttural shout, the howl of it echoing through the area. Any last birds that were still nearby scatter into the air, squawking in shock. He rushes down the waterline on instinct, ready to follow Will into the waves. Then he halts.
The vine—it’ll still be around him, that’s not gonna change.
Mike scrambles in a panic, his heart racing, whispering a string of curses as his hands tremble violently. He rips his bag off his shoulders, fumbling with the damn zipper. When it's finally open, he rifles through it, his hands shaking, until he closes his fist around the tactical knife that Hopper–thank God–had insisted he carry. He pulls it out with a breath of relief, then rushes down to the water.
When his feet are in, he winces instantly, the sheer freezing cold of it sending a violent shiver up Mike’s spine. Fuck that. It doesn’t matter. With every passing second, Will is getting hurt more, becoming more breathless, sinking further underwater.
Mike squeezes his eyes shut as he removes his heavy jacket and sweater, knowing they’ll only weigh him down. He shivers at the sudden chill with only his t-shirt on, but he doesn’t hesitate. Without another moment of thought, he gasps a deep breath of air and dives under.
The cold hits him like a truck. His vision blurs at the edges as the bone-chilling temperature sinks into his skull, making it ache like it's broken, like someone has brought a great, big clamp down onto it. Mike ignores it. He swims, heart racing, blood pumping to his extremities as he kicks out his legs and drives his arms through the water. He has got to get to Will before he… before he can’t anymore. Before the cold pulls him under, before water seeps into his lungs and takes him away.
Shit, shit where the fuck is he? Where– Where is Will! Where…
The red glow from the gate flickers, casting an eerie light on the strange world around him. Time seems to stretch on, and on, and on, each second a battle to hold onto control, each moment a struggle to keep himself from panicking. He kicks harder, heading towards the shape floating ahead, moving downwards toward… toward the mass.
He’s heading towards what looks like the sun, hidden behind a crack in the earth, and Mike can’t let this be it. Even though the gap grows smaller with every second, the pull of desperation draws him in. He reaches out, his hand trembling as he nears Will’s limp form.
Will grows larger in his vision and… and there! As soon as Mike makes contact with his body, throwing an arm around his waist as fast as he can in the thick, frigid water, he uses all his strength to keep the vine from pulling him any further down. Mike alone swims downward, his knife in hand. He slashes the knife at the vine, and it seems to react, a screeching sound reverberating in his water-filled ears.
Fuck, his lungs are burning. His body screams, begs for air, but he can’t get it. He can’t get it now, not yet.
One glance at Will’s face tells him he needs to stay here. His eyes are closed, face pale, almost peaceful— but Mike can see the danger, the deathly stillness of him. He feels the lump in his throat enlarge as he urgently tells his limbs to cooperate. He uses the last drop of adrenaline, every scrap of strength he has left, to saw at the vine. It eventually weakens, and Mike seizes the chance to pull Will up. When the vine retreats for even just a second, he wraps both arms around Will’s body, kicking his legs as hard as he can, pushing upward.
He can’t even register the fact that he’s successfully pulled Will away from what was definitely Vecna, trying one last time to get him through the gate before it closes behind the two of them.
His heart’s beating wildly now, sporadically, craving the air above. Mike looks up at the surface—so close, so inviting, calling to him. But everything darkens as his vision blurs, and he feels himself slipping away. But Will is still in his arms. That’s what matters. That’s what he must keep.
Even when he can’t see the top anymore, Mike kicks, knowing that even the smallest effort is still effort.
He waits for the relief, waits, waits, waits.
As soon as Mike breaks the surface, he frantically splashes with one arm to keep himself afloat, the other arm firmly wrapped around Will’s limp form. He gulps air, breath after breath, his vision blurry—not just from the water. His head and heart are pounding, but Mike kicks his legs desperately to keep upright.
He ignores the fact that the red light is gone and the swirling whirlpool has ceased, focusing instead on Will. He grabs him with both hands and takes a look at him.
“Will! Will, c’mon,” he gasps between breaths, saying his name over and over as he stares down at him in his arms, their chests flush against each other.
“Will, please, please, please ,” he whispers, his hand trembling as he gently slides it up Will’s wet, frozen cheek. His eyelashes rested softly on his cheek, his mouth slightly parted. Mike knows his own face is wet, too, but it’s not just from the lakewater as he watches a tear slip from his cheek onto Will’s, sliding down the perfect curve of his face.
Clenching his jaw, his bones screaming for mercy, Mike grips Will tightly again and kicks his legs furiously, keeping his eyes on the shore where they’d been before. He can feel the reality setting in. Will’s not opening his eyes. Mike had some stupid hope that when he got Will back to the surface, he’d suddenly come alive—open his eyes and gasp for breath like Mike had done.
But that doesn’t happen, even when they arrive back at the shore. His arms ache as he carries Will, teeth clenched with the effort. When he lays him down softly on the grass at the edge of the bank, Mike feels the weight of everything press down on him.
“C’mon Will,” he breathes, his voice crackling. His hands grasp desperately at Will’s face, fingers sliding over his skin. Will’s head lolls backward, his body completely limp.
Fingers go to Will’s neck, and Mike searches, desperately, for a beat. A sign. He mutters a string of words, with no clue of what they are, especially not when his heart leaps at the faint sensation of a small thump-thump under Will’s pulse point.
The relief that washes over him is so overwhelming that he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he laughs, all while sobs wrack through his chest. In one swift motion, he gently cradles Will’s face in his hands, thumbs rubbing tenderly over his skin as he leans down and presses his forehead to Will’s. He pants, overwhelmed by a strange mixture of relief and exhaustion.
“Oh my god,” he whispers in a rush, his voice thick with emotion. “Oh god, Will.”
But, fuck, he’s not awake. He might be alive, but he’s freezing, his heart’s slow, and it’s not like Mike can do much about it.
He leans back and stares at him. The pale, wet skin reminds him of something—something he thought he’d buried deep down in a little box, something he’d promised not to let affect him ever again. “No… no, no Will, you gotta–” Mike’s voice cracks, barely audible over the sobs shaking his chest.
He remembers riding home in the rain. Mike squeezes his eyes shut, leaning down as hiccups and gasps tear through him. His whole body shakes as he keeps his fingers pressed to Will’s skin, needing to feel the warmth, to know he’s still here, still coming back. He remembers crying, a cold dread passing over him as he’d clutched his mom.
I’ll never hear Will again. I’ll never see him smile. I’ll never play games with him again. How can this be?
Mike arches his back and throws his head to the sky, crying out in a primal scream. His jaw clenches like a wild animal as he wraps his arms around Will’s back, pleading. “Will please, I can’t– I can’t lose you before I… I can’t lose you, please,” he yells, pulling Will close to his chest, as close as he possibly can.
Will’s body is limp against him, falling onto his shoulder as Mike buries his face in Will’s wet jacket and sobs. He remembers wanting to get to him, remembers wanting to go back, remembers wishing it was all some sick joke. Will’s coming back tomorrow. He’ll be okay .
Mike has to warm him up. He needs to warm him up. With that thought, Mike pants as he reaches wildly behind him for his discarded jacket, muttering another string of desperate words as he wraps it around Will’s shoulders. Again, Mike pulls him closer, chest heaving, his hands gliding urgently over him, sliding up to Will’s neck, raking a rough hand through his damp hair.
This is taking too long. “Will, come on ,” Mike begs. He wishes Will would just come back—wake up and tell him it’ll be okay , like he always does. Fuck, fuck , what’s he going to do?
“Please I can’t do this without you.” His words come out like ragged coughs, barely audible. “I need you, okay?! Stay with me, Will, just stay with me!” he yells, shaking the body in his grip. He feels a little warmer, but nothing’s happening , and the panic really starts to set in.
His thoughts race. Mike wants to go back in time, to fix everything. If he had just kept his one promise to keep Will safe, none of this would have happened.
His last conversation with Will was that ? That fight, that stupid, stupid fight about what Mike’s done to him? How can Mike be like this? Why can’t he be anyone else?
“I– I can’t lose you, Will, you’re the only one that–” He cuts himself off with a strangled cry, staring down at Will’s face. Though there’s a little colour to them, he’s still limp. “You’re the only one that– that gets me, please! I can’t live–”
God, he needs help, he can’t believe this is happening. He can’t fail Will like this. Not again. Not for the millionth time.
He swears he sees a flicker of something on Will’s face, but after waiting a few more seconds, there’s nothing. It’s not going to work; nothing will. In fact, he feels Will slip further and further away. Mike lets out a loud noise of panic, shouting,
“No, no, no, Will! Please come back to me, Will, okay? I really– I really do love you,” Mike’s words are torn from him, feeling electricity in his bones with the release of them. As soon as he says it, there’s an urge, a need to say it over and over and over. He presses him back to his chest quickly, shutting his eyes.
“I fucking love you s-o m-much, please… I can’t…” His hands grip the back of Will’s head, fingers raking through his hair.
He feels Will’s hands on his back, a reminder of it all. He shouts louder.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so s- sorry for every-thing. I know I don’t deserve you to come back to me, but you have to! You have to, please! You’re the best– best person in the world and I n-need you! I can’t let you go, it’ll be the worst thing I’ve ever done. Y-you’re my best friend and I’m staying– I’m staying ‘cause…
He lets out a quivering, shuddery breath, his voice spilling out in waves. “‘Cause I’m so in l-love with you. Dammit, I don’t care what they say, I’m not going, I’m not going…”
Mike’s loud cries dwindle to soft sobbing into Will’s shoulder, his voice grows quieter as he feels Will’s palms pressing hard into his back and–
There’s gasping. It’s shallow, but it’s not coming from Mike. It– it’s coming from– it’s coming from–
“Will!” Mike yells, eyes snapping open as he grabs Will’s shoulders, leaning back to see his face. Will’s eyes and mouth are half-open. “Oh my god , Will, you’re–” Oh no, something’s wrong. “Will? Hey–”
He’s gasping more violently now, coughing and sputtering, his eyes growing wider. He’s choking on something, and Mike doesn’t stop to care what it is, patting Will’s back urgently. With every thump on his back, he hits harder until he’s pounding on the space between his shoulder blades. “It’s okay, It’s okay, c’mon,” he repeats, whispering softly.
Mike squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he could unhear these rough noises coming from Will, wishing he didn’t have to leave large bruises all over him just to save him and–
Will suddenly lurches forwards, sitting upright, coughing properly and roughly. Mike tries to soothe him a little, sniffling, his eyes thoroughly swollen as he watches Will cough up water onto the shore. He can feel his own breathing slow, an aching relief washing over him at the sight of Will alive, breathing—albeit deeply and heavily.
Then Will turns to him, and their eyes meet. That’s when Mike decides to cry again, reaching out to the boy in front of him, grasping at his clothes, his hair, rubbing his thumb against his face.
“I– Will, Will, oh I–” he gasps incoherently as Will watches, eyes fluttering and darting all over Mike, never looking away. There’s something else there too—wonderment, awe. Mike stops sputtering and lets out a sob before caving in and pulling Will to his chest.
“I thought I lost you–” Mike gasps out, voice cracking. “I thought I lost you again.” He cries properly now, burying his face in Will’s shoulder, wishing he could drink him in somehow, let him be close to him forever.
“Mike,” Will whispers brokenly, his voice soft and relieved. The sound makes Mike sob harder, and he can’t believe he’s ever, ever done bad things, been mean to this boy. This sweet, wonderful person who doesn’t deserve any of the bad things he’s been through. This person who deserves the world, deserves far better than Mike.
“God– god, Will,” Mike squeaks out, raking both his hands through his hair before leaning back to take a look at Will’s flushed face. He keeps his hands on Will’s skin, his fingers lightly brushing the deep cuts along the side of his jaw. “You’re okay, right? You’re– you’re okay.” He softens his voice when Will’s eyebrows cinch with worry.
“I– I think so,” he mumbles weakly, his gaze slowly drifting away from Mike and down to his leg.
Mike follows his stare, and his heart pounds. “Your leg. Is– is it hurting? Are you hurting– where does it hurt, Will?” he rambles, voice coming in quick bursts.
Will gives a very shaky and small smile, looking at Mike with sudden endearment. Mike gazes back at him, questioningly. He watches as Will’s expression darkens slightly, his eyes squeezing shut as he grunts in pain, trying to move the leg that the vine had wrapped around.
“M- my leg, ah–” Will cries out softly, gritting his teeth. Mike instantly reaches a hand out, but Will flinches, so he stops, hovering his hand above him. He checks for permission with his eyes and once Will nods a little, Mike carefully presses down.
Will winces instantly, hissing in pain, and Mike follows suit, looking back at him. “S- sorry, I’m so sorry–”
“I think it’s broken— shit, ” Will manages to get out.
“I’m so, so sorry. God—“
“‘S okay, Mike,” Will says, slightly slurring his speech from the pain. “It’s okay.” This one feels more poignant this time, and Mike lets himself look at Will’s deep, loving gaze, laced with desperation and longing, with a little hurt mixed in. “I’m okay.”
Mike nods jerkily, sniffling. “A- are you sure? We still need to take you to safety, Will. You’re freezing and hurt, and—“
He’s suddenly cut off by Will, who lets out a string of rough, loud coughs, grabbing onto Mike’s arms for support. Mike’s heart twists with concern, and despite the vibration of his hands, he gives his best attempt at soothingly rubbing Will’s shoulder and arms. Warmth blooms in his chest when he hears a little hum come from Will’s throat, though it’s broken. He takes deep breaths, in and out, as Mike waits patiently.
“It’ll be alright, we– we need to…” Mike looks around, remembering the long trek it took to get here, wondering how the hell they’re going to make it back to his house without Will becoming even more injured. “Do you think we can get… back to mine?”
Will’s face twists at the idea, his eyes watering a little as he shifts to sit up. He’s still shivering violently, water dripping from his hair. It’s still raining , for God’s sake. Mike’s the same, but he holds more concern for Will, of course, quickly wrapping the jacket around him tighter.
“D’you think you can stand for me? Will?” Mike leans in close, softening his voice as Will widens his eyes slightly, waiting a few seconds before nodding wordlessly, mouth a little parted. “Okay, c’mere–”
Carefully, he wraps one of his arms around Will’s shoulders, the other reaching around the front to his waist as they both make an effort to get him off the ground. Will stumbles a couple of times, curses a lot , his feet sliding on the shingle, but eventually, they’re standing. Well, Mike is standing. Will is leaning so heavily into him that it feels like he’s not putting any weight onto his leg at all.
“Okay, good,” Mike sighs, exasperated, pressing his fingers into Will’s upper arm, listening to his stilted breathing. “Let’s try and–” When he takes a step forward, he watches Will’s face as he tries to follow, his features screwed up with the effort.
Will stumbles, letting out a grunt of pain. “Jesus Christ–” Mike quickly stabilises him, his heart clenching at the sound of Will’s frantic panting.
“M- Mike I don’t think I can… I can’t walk all the way to your house,” Will says, his voice severely strained.
“Okay,” Mike begins, softly, before it really sets in how far away they are from the rest of Hawkins. “Okay, yeah that makes sense. Um.” He can feel his frozen muscles screaming at him, but he doesn’t listen, whipping his head around to gauge his surroundings.
From what he can see in the rain, trees surround them, crowding inwards, and Mike suddenly remembers that he did almost pass out earlier. He’s still feeling a little dizzy, his legs shaking. He steels himself. You’re doing this for him .
Mike focuses his eyes, letting the worrisome sounds that Will’s making fuel his desperation. At last, he stares across to a dock with a few obviously abandoned rowing boats at the edge of the shore, following them up towards the trees. In the dark and the storm, it’s not clear at all, but Mike remembers something that the others had talked about a while ago—something about where Eddie had been hiding all the time that Mike had been away.
Will seems to follow Mike’s eyeline. “Reefer Rick’s,” he breathes just as Mike thinks the same thing. For a second, they look at each other, and Mike knows that Will’s feeling the same longing for safety as he is.
Without thinking, Mike begins to step carefully across the stones, and hears a little laboured noise next to him. “Hey,” he shifts his arms so that he’s got a more secure hold on Will, who’s pressed the side of his face into Mike’s side for comfort. “Hey, I got you, I’m gonna– I’m gonna get you safe, alright?”
He waits with bated breath for Will to answer until he gives a little nod, chewing on his lip. They begin to stumble toward the house, but despite Will’s clear acknowledgment of what Mike said, putting his trust in him, he still wants more. He needs Will to know that, after everything he’s done, he’ll never, ever let anything happen to him again. He wishes he had the words to describe what an idiot he’s been, how he knows that nothing will make up for how he’s treated him, but he’ll still do everything to get close to absolution.
“I promise,” he says, more to himself than anything, not even caring if Will heard him. “I promise.”