Chapter Text
Holing up in Reefer Rick’s house isn’t much warmer than standing on the shoreline of Lovers Lake, especially when subzero temperature lake water is dripping from Mike and Will’s clothes.
Mike feels Will shiver violently under his arm as they burst through the door. When it closes and the storm is finally muted, Mike takes a breath, but the feeling of relief lasts only a few seconds before he realises just how loud Will’s expressions of pain are now that they’re not muffled by the wind. It’s dark inside, the moonlight casting strange shadows on the floor.
When the light switch is flipped, it illuminates a dusty, abandoned living room-kitchen combo. Mike ignores it, focusing on the door on the other side of the room, praying it’s some kind of bathroom or–
“M- Mike ,” Will chokes out next to him, leaning heavily onto his side, pressing his cheek into him.
Mike’s heart jumps at the sound, but he doesn’t stop moving towards the door, that sense of urgency fuelling him now as he turns the handle and attempts to soothe, “It’s okay, Will, it’s okay.”
It’s a bedroom. Relief surges through Mike at the sight of a bed, and he swears it moves through Will too, as a noticeably different kind of breath escapes the otherwise panting boy under his arm. He knows this’ll get the bed sheets soaked, but Mike lays Will carefully down on the mattress anyway, hurriedly placing his hands on his shoulders to guide him so that he’s sitting with his back against the headboard. Will relaxes under Mike’s touch, letting him take care of him, but his breathing doesn’t slow. His eyes dart around, watching Mike get increasingly frantic in his movements.
Mike shakily takes his bag off his back and fumbles with the zipper again , a familiar panic rising in his chest. He digs into the bag to find the first aid kit that Hopper made him carry.
Mike sits back down on the bed, the little noises of pain coming from Will making his stomach churn with impatience. His hands tremble as they open the pack, but he can’t stop his gaze from flickering Will’s leg, which he’s holding out carefully, slightly twitching. Mike needs to– he needs to help him now , in whatever way he can.
His hands frantically grasp at the soaked bottom of Will’s pant leg, ready to lift the material, when a tight noise comes from Will’s throat.
“Uh– Mike,” comes a little voice. Instantly, Mike halts his movement, snapping his gaze from Will’s leg to his face, nodding tightly. “Can you maybe slow down?” His voice is so careful, so afraid, almost as if he wants to soothe Mike instead.
A flash of remorse runs through Mike’s body as he furrows his eyebrows in concern, moving up the bed slightly to get closer. “S- sure, Will! Yeah… yeah, um, sorry,” Mike hurries out, closing his eyes for a second as he feels his mind come back to his quivering body. Jesus, he’s cold.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, feeling a lump form at the back of his throat.
Will’s eyebrows are drawn together at this, his chest rising and falling at a much steadier pace now, to Mike’s relief. “Sorry?” he breathes, shaking his head, eyes locked on Mike, brimming with tears and confusion. “You…”
He suddenly blinks a few times, looking away.
“Wh– what happened?” Will’s timid voice rings high in the tense, damp air. Rain’s still hammering on the glass behind the headboard, although the curtains are drawn, permanently sheltering them in their own safe microcosm. “I… I was in the water.”
Mike nods patiently, subconsciously glancing over Will and the way he’s definitely soaking the sheets through. The way he’s definitely in a state of shock right now. Will hums a little, chewing on his lip as he seemingly tries to remember.
“I was in the water…” he repeats. “I remember trying to get back to you and– and I couldn’t breathe and my lungs…” Will cuts himself off as his voice breaks with the pain of the memory.
“And then suddenly, I– I was back with you on the shore,” he says, his voice laced with something else. Mike can’t quite put his finger on it, but while Will’s tone softens, so does the lighting. Or at least that’s how it appears.
“What did you…” Will begins to ask, leaning a little forward. They’re close, and Mike can feel his heart beating along with all the other sensations running through his body right now—the cold, the sting of Will’s gaze, the electric thrums shaking his body with every small touch. “Did you save me, Mike?”
The weight of the words press down on Mike’s chest. That’s… everything he wants to hear. He hasn’t realised just how much he’s wanted—always wanted—to hear those words come from that mouth. His breath catches at the sight of Will, and he takes him in—the way his eyes lower a little, the way his lips part with the question. This is really happening.
His mind decides this is the best moment to flash up the image of Will floating in that water, appearing to be dead.
Fuck’s sake , Mike suddenly thinks, and his body comes back to life, fizzing with frenetic energy. His nerves get the better of him again. He feels himself heating, flushing at the memory of how frantic and panicked he had gotten at the idea of Will dying in his arms, at the way he had professed his love so easily, right there and then. I could never do that now.
“I– I don’t know, I mean, I pulled you out of the water, yeah.”
“You did,” Will says gently, his voice barely above a whisper. Shit, how can he be speaking like this when his leg is clearly bleeding through his jeans? Mike’s brain tells him to check on it, glancing back at the leg in question. Fuck, it’s still clearly bleeding, Mike needs to do something, he needs–
“Thank you.”
Mike’s ears prick up, and he looks back at Will, whose lips quirk up in a little smile at Mike’s sudden attention. “What?” he croaks out.
“Thank you, Mike,” Will sighs out, leaning back against the headboard, closing his eyes as he swallows, wetting his lips. “Thank you for saving my life.”
He says it as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if it isn’t making Mike’s heart beat a million times a minute, sending jolts of fire in his veins. This Will is so different from the Will who had told him he couldn’t stand when people risk their lives for him. It’s almost like he’s saying that Mike’s different to those people. That he would gladly let Mike save his life, but only Mike.
He feels his face heat, blood rushing to his cheeks as he searches for something clever, something cool to say.
“Of– of course, Will, uh, any- anytime, yeah,” he stammers out, before shutting his eyes a little, cringing at how awkward he sounds compared to Will’s eloquence. God, he really is too good for Mike. That’s only emphasised when Will, God bless him, laughs with affection, before grunting a little with the pain it causes him.
A moment of peace washes over the room, and Mike tries to match Will’s clear attempts at deep breathing, focusing on a small wrinkle on Will’s palm where his hand rests on the mattress. He watches as the fingers curl a little while he itches— burns —to reach out. He could do it so easily, and maybe Will would be grateful for the touch, for the reassurance.
It would be wrong, untrue, of Mike if he didn’t admit he’s thinking about everything Will said in that forest right now, now that they have a moment to think:
Will’s candour. The boldness with which he had clearly been leaning in to press their lips together, the way Mike had also wanted that too. Maybe ever since he found out about the concept of kissing. Maybe he could do it now, in this peaceful little room, with the rain creating a relaxing white noise and the lamp illuminating Will’s features.
It could all be taken away. Just like that. Mike’s stomach drops.
What is the matter with him? Why can’t he just–
“Mike? Mike? ” Will repeats, pulling Mike from his ugly thoughts. He gladly turns his attention to the still-living Will outside of his brain. “Can you… do something about this?”
Mike raises his eyebrows as he follows Will’s glance down to the injured leg. “Oh– oh , yeah, obviously,” he gives a small laugh at himself before shifting down the bed. He once again places his fingers on the hem of Will’s pant leg, hesitating. “Is it okay if I…”
Will gives a frown and a small smile. “Um, yeah?”
Mike feels his own small, embarrassed chuckle bubble up in his chest, and he isn’t sure if he’s supposed to like this tension or not. “Right, um… sorry if it hurts. It’ll probably sting a lot, I need to clean–”
Steadying himself with his hands, Will interrupts, “Yeah, I kind of figured.”
Mike sniffs and shakes himself off, muttering a ‘yeah’ before he takes a deep breath, focusing his gaze on where he’s pulling the material of the pant leg upward, trying to ignore the hisses of pain uttered from Will’s lips.
Then he sees it—the mottled, bruised skin of Will’s leg. The way that it’s clearly more swollen than the other leg in certain places, the skin already purpling, even though it hasn’t been that long since it happened. Mike wants to gag, feeling a swirling in his stomach. And that’s before he even sees the lacerations—the red marks where the vine had tightened, blood oozing from various spots.
He looks away to catch his breath, bringing his fist up to his mouth. This is worse than any injury he’s gotten himself, and the weight of the fact he’s responsible for Will’s safety presses down on his shoulders. Mike wonders involuntarily what this would have felt like, what Will felt when it was tightening around him and–
“Shit,” Will hisses out. Mike swings his head up urgently to meet his eyes. “I’m so cold right now,” he ends up laughing out. Mike’s a little grateful for the way it diffuses the tension, noticing how Will’s tremors get worse by the second. Now that Mike’s thinking about it, he’s shivering like a leaf himself.
“Yeah, me too, we should…” Mike trails off, looking over Will’s body. At his leg. At the cut on his hand. At the way Will’s trembling. Who’s he kidding? He can’t imagine how Will’s feeling, how much the cold is getting to him. It’s probably killing him slowly.
Panic supersedes his awkward-16-year-old-boy nerves as he presses a hand onto Will’s wrist to feel just how cold he really is, before pulling away with damp fingers. “Fuck, Will, you’re freezing , oh my god–”
“It’s fine, my leg’s really–”
Will’s teeth are chattering, his eyes blinking rapidly. “No, no, we… we need to warm you up, uh–” Mike fumbles in his medical kit, only to realise there’s absolutely nothing in there that can help right now. There’s so much to think about, so much that can go wrong, that can still harm his precious Will. “Do you think there’s spare clothes in here? I mean, I have some in my bag, but I don’t think they’d fit y–”
“Spare clothes?” Will strangles out, exasperated.
“Yeah, you’re gonna freeze to death if you stay like that,” Mike explains quickly. Will widens his eyes slightly in response. “Look… I’ll…” Mike gets up suddenly, leaving Will on the bed as he rushes to the chest of drawers, then the closet, rifling through to find some sweatpants and moth-eaten t-shirts and sweatshirts. They’re not exactly desirable to wear, but they’ll do.
“Mike, c’mon, I–” Will grunts out, then squeezes his eyes shut. “My leg. We should worry about getting warm later, alright?”
Oh my god, he really is an idiot. “Shit, shit, sorry, uh–” Mike stammers, his heart lurching as his gaze is forcibly returned to the sight of Will’s injured leg. He sits back down on the bed in a flurry. Again, his hands quiver as he pulls out some sterile-looking wipes from the kit and unpacks them with force. What does he do first? Does he bandage– no he needs to clean it first, right? He’s never really done this before.
Mike is cautious as he runs the wipe around the skin, careful not to press down too hard, though Will winces a little anyway. The blood keeps coming for a few seconds, running down, and it feels like Mike will never catch it all. He’ll never make Will feel better; he’ll just keep making this worse–
“Hey,” comes Will’s strained voice. Mike doesn’t hear it at first, furiously dabbing at the blood, as he’s trying to erase all those horrible, horrible images in his head—the ones where Will doesn’t come back to him. “Mike, Mike, you’re pressing too har– you’re pressing too hard.”
Will hisses at the pain, and Mike pulls back reflexively, letting him catch his breath. “Shi– shit, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I don’t know how to… I don’t know–”
Mike’s surprised at how quickly he’s breathing right now, how wet his eyes are. He hadn’t even realised he’d been crying for the past minute, a tear suddenly escaping his waterline, revealing himself for what he is.
Will clearly notices before Mike has time to brush it away. “Oh, oh Mike, hey…” His voice is all softness, leaning forward a little as Mike frustratingly grabs the bandages from the medical kit, trying to ignore the way Will’s words feel like honey in his ears.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Will,” he keeps muttering brokenly, beginning to wrap the bandage around Will’s leg.
“You can stop,” Will’s whispering calmly.
Mike attempts to wipe the new tears away, already aware of how vulnerable he’s being. He’s shaking, even more so when Will stops him by curling his fingers around Mike’s wrist tightly, making him look away.
“Hey, stop it,” Will whispers, his breath ghosting over Mike’s face, drying his tears on his cheeks.
“You need to calm down,” he says, almost sternly, but with an edge of grave concern. Mike dares to look up and meet Will’s eyes with his own wet ones, and his heart aches at the sight of his expression—the way his brows furrow with worry, the way his eyes glisten, the way they’re darting over him.
“I– I can’t…” Mike mumbles, before a sob escapes him, making his face heat. This is pathetic. He should be the one comforting Will, the one who almost drowned , not the other way around.
“Yes you can,” Will soothes. “I sort of need you to. Your hands were kinda squeezing the cuts before,” he adds, trying to laugh a little, teasing lightly.
Mike’s heart warms, and he tries a deep, shuddering breath. “Mhm, sorry about that,” he says with a hesitant grin, breathing a long sigh.
Will exhales with a small chuckle, and Mike lets it calm him, though the swirling in his stomach—the thought of Will on that shore—doesn’t leave him as he finally, successfully, wraps the bandage around Will’s leg.
The material instantly reddens, but once Mike adds another layer, it seems adequate.
“Is that… is that good?” Mike asks timidly, sniffling as he looks to Will’s facial expression for confirmation. “I did two layers, I hope that’s okay.”
Will grins sweetly, though his eyes are a little hooded, as if he’s about to fall asleep. “Yeah, yeah that’s good. Thank you.”
Mike nods back at him, and God, he wishes he could enjoy this moment without his brain flashing images of the way he could barely find his pulse, the way he knew, without a doubt, his life would be darker without Will. The room is warm, but Mike’s insides grow colder, a chill running up his spine.
“Clothes?” Will murmurs, and Mike snaps back to the present, nodding.
“Uh– yeah, I’ll…” He looks around the room, spotting a small door with a lock on it. “I’ll take the clothes from the closet. You can have my spare set, if you… if you want, obviously.” Mike sniffs again, blushing, wishing he hadn’t just cried in front of the love of his life.
“Mm– okay, thanks,” Will says, sounding somewhat surprised.
“And– and I’ll just go in there,” Mike continues softly, nodding toward the bathroom. “You wait here, and then I can help you. Is that alright?”
He waits for a response, hoping—praying—that Will doesn’t suddenly refuse or scorn him. Instead, Will simply nods, fluttering his eyelids for a second as Mike gets up, walks to the closet, and pulls out the most normal-looking clean sweater he can find, along with some pants. He moves to the bathroom, not without taking one more glance through the crack in the door to check if Will is okay. His head’s tilted back a little, eyes softly closed in relaxation—at least Mike hopes it’s relaxation.
As he begins to change out of his sopping wet clothes, Mike finds a slightly moth-eaten towel on the rack and dries himself off, raking it through his hair, his arms, his legs, his hands–
He hisses as the material brushes over something raw and fresh, causing a sting that freezes his muscles. Daring to look down, he grimaces at the telltale signs of a few cuts on his hands, barely able to remember where he got them. He feels them on his knees too, glaring at the way a single drop of blood trails from the knee to his shin before he promptly wipes it away with the towel. He can’t let Will see this; he can’t let that boy worry any more than he already is.
Mike quickly shucks on the clothes, ignoring the ache in his knees and hands as he pulls the sweatshirt over his head, dampening the collar with his hair. He’s met with his reflection when he turns around, almost startling at the sight. Dirt and grime stain his skin, and his eyes are red and puffy. He clears his throat, scratchy and raw from shouting and coughing, from almost drowning in that lake.
It’s nothing compared to how Will looks, though, Mike thinks. And he’s brought back again to the moment when he caught him in his arms in the depths of that lake, the way Will had been so limp it was like no life was left in him at all . The way Mike had desperately screamed out a love confession, knowing he’d never forgive himself if he hadn’t said it before Will… before Will had…
Mike lets out a shaky breath, steadying himself on the sink as that stupid, humiliating lump in his throat resurfaces. He screws his eyes shut, unable to bear the image of his eyes watering again, for the thousandth time. The action squeezes a tear out, but it’s swiftly wiped away.
He needs to stop this. He needs to focus on what really matters right now.
Opening the bathroom door with unbridled force, Mike’s breath catches in his throat, freezing in the doorway. At the sight of Will without a shirt, his face contorted with pain, Mike’s mind comes to a standstill. One part of him wants to turn around and retreat back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, apologising for barging in. But the other, louder part, takes notice of Will’s shaky hands, his pain-stricken demeanour, oh God .
“Will, hey, don’t–” Mike begins, rushing forward to stop Will from doing whatever was causing him pain—apparently trying to put on Mike’s spare sweatshirt from his backpack. “You’re hurting yourself, here.”
Will seems startled at the sudden closeness, and Mike ignores the part of his mind screaming at him to stop. He grabs the sweatshirt in Will’s hands but pauses, looking down at the leg he had carefully wrapped up a few moments ago. Will’s already wearing his spare pants somehow.
“Did… did you do this yourself?” Mike asks, genuinely wondering how the hell Will managed to put on a new pair of pants in his condition.
Will opens his mouth to talk, but nothing comes out. Instead, he decides on a nod, and Mike swears he can see a flush of red spreading from Will’s cheeks to his throat, then to the expanse of his chest and–
Raising his eyebrows in concern, Mike’s gaze lands on the red gashes on Will’s arms, shoulders, and chest, the raw flesh exposed underneath. It’s hard to look away. His eyes dart all over, searching for more.
“Oh my god,” Mike breathes, “Shit, you’re hurt . Are… are you okay, Will? You should have said something.”
Will chews on his lip, his breath a little unsteady. Mike notices it especially when he grazes his fingertips over the fresh gashes on Will’s shoulder. He pulls away reflexively when Will lets out a sound he figures is one of pain, about to mumble an apology.
Will’s eyes scorch through him, pinning him in place. “I’m fine,” he whispers, his voice slightly strangled.
Already shaking his head, Mike reaches behind him for the medical kit again, pulling out the same wipes and dressing. He immediately tends to the largest gash, which jaggedly cuts across Will’s shoulder. A soft whimper comes from Will’s lips as the pressure intensifies.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mike’s voice, though the words are stern and accusatory, is gentle in case Will wants to retreat. “You’re not burdening me by saying anything, you know that, right?”
Will’s eyebrows shoot up a little at the openness of Mike’s words. “I didn’t want you to panic, like– like before,” he mumbles brokenly, tilting his head back as if to avert his gaze from his own injuries while Mike makes quick work of dressing the wounds, securing adhesive tape over the dressing with careful pressure.
“I’m not panicking now, am I?” Mike says with a touch of humour, wondering if Will’s starting to relax under his touch.
“Mm–” Will tries to speak, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Mike stills, his attention diverted. “I don’t want to… to cause you any pain, y’know?”
Now it’s Mike’s turn to scorch Will with his glare, leaning forward, pressing his hand a little harder against Will’s chest, right over his heart. “This again?” he asks with soft concern. “Will…”
He watches as Will gets a little shy, looking down and sniffling, clearly holding back tears. Mike’s caution is cast aside as he reaches out a shaky hand, hesitating briefly before closing his eyes for a second and tilting Will’s chin upward to meet his gaze. When he opens his eyes, he’s met with another gorgeous pair, shimmering with unshed tears. He can’t tell what Will wants, what’s really going on, but he remembers last night. Again.
“You’re so…” Mike begins, the words dying in his throat. Selfless . Beautiful .
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful .
Then he remembers something else—the yellow, dusty Nevada deserts—and his heart clenches at the thought of Will’s tears, his anguish, how he must have felt. How Mike had blamed all his personal problems on this beautiful person, how could he? His fingers slowly release Will’s chin. “You can’t cause me any pain. Not right now, okay?”
Will looks like he doesn’t believe him for a second, glancing downwards on Mike’s face. They’re close, sure, but not close enough for Mike to feel Will’s breath against his skin, the way he had in the forest. Maybe he should feel grateful for that, but… he doesn’t. He wants, like always, he wants.
“Mike,” Will whispers.
“Hm?”
There’s no response, but Mike watches as Will’s eyes travel , shifting to somewhere on Mike’s lower face, then to where his hand still rests lazily on his stomach between them. Mike swallows, blinking slowly as the fog of longing pulls him under, making it feel like they’re really the only two people left on Earth right now—just Mike and Will, Will and Mike. His own eyes wander, and he wishes they would stop on Will’s lips, but they don’t, instead drifting down to where he still hasn’t dressed the wounds.
The memory of Will’s screams, his yells as he was dragged under the depths of the ocean, rings in Mike’s head, making him close his eyes, willing the thoughts away. Shut up, don’t ruin this, please , Mike urges his brain, but it doesn’t work. Nothing’s ever going to work, is it? What if he has Will, really has him, but then it all gets ripped away again? This time with an even worse pain, because it’ll be all he’s ever wanted, gone .
His heart pounds, blood rushing in his ears, and–
Fuck, Will probably hates him. He doesn’t blame him, considering how many times he’s already chickened out from doing what he really wants.
Mike startles a little at the vivid sensation of skin brushing against something painful. Will’s fingertips—still soft, somehow—graze his palm, and Mike had almost forgotten about his cuts, probably still leaking a little warm blood. The sound of Will’s concerned voice cuts through his thoughts.
“Oh my god,” Will whispers before completely diverting his attention away from whatever they were about to do, gently taking Mike’s hand with both of his, and inspecting it, slowly turning it over. “What…”
“Ah–” Mike winces at the slight pain, but it’s not too bad, definitely nothing compared to Will’s injuries. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”
But Will won’t listen, shaking his head in slight horror as he chews on his lip. Mike can feel him getting close to tears. His voice cracks as he says, “I did cause you pain, I did–”
Mike’s protective instincts flare. “Hey, Will , this isn’t your fault,” he urges, leaning down to capture Will’s gaze. “Okay? None of this is your fault.”
“You dived into the– into the lake didn’t you?”
Mike frowns slightly. “Of course I did,” he chuckles lightly, despite everything. Will doesn’t seem eased by it at all. “I told you I…” I saved your life . Is Will not proud of that anymore?
“You could have died, for– for me, you could have…” Will trails off, sniffing wetly before wiping away the few tears that have escaped, the sight burning Mike to his core.
He shifts ever closer, ignoring the burning sensation that it brings when he places his hand on Will’s shoulder, making contact with the now-drying skin. “Hey, you could have died too,” he whispers morosely. “Of course I… saved you, Will. What else could I have done?”
Will opens his mouth to argue back, but as his eyes flit jerkily over Mike’s face, he appears to resign himself, sighing and accepting the words, though not without a quick glance to where his skin meets Mike’s hand. “F- fine,” he mutters, chewing on his lip again.
“I am grateful… y’know?” Will continues, looking back at him with his face lowered slightly, the warm glow of the lamp reflected distinctly in his irises.
Mike nods, loosening his grip a little, realising his palm’s a little sweaty. “‘Course. I know tha–”
“But…” Will interrupts, his voice louder than it’s been since they arrived at the cabin, quivering with insistence. “Please, please don’t do something reckless like that again, promise me.”
Mike thinks about how many stupid, reckless things he’s done recently—both with the Upside Down stuff and with Will—and a light laugh bubbles up in his throat before he can control it.
“I’m serious, Mike, I can’t…” Will’s sharp but broken tone immediately halts whatever teasing retort Mike was about to say, replacing it with a strange confusion. Can’t what? “Promise me. Please, please just promise me.”
Mike can’t stop thinking about how alive Will looks right now. “Well, you have to promise something too.” His voice comes out as a whisper while he shifts apprehensively closer, and he can’t ignore the way Will’s breath hitches now.
“Promise what?” he murmurs.
Mike swallows, the pain of the last few days—the last few years, really—flowing out in tight, risky words. “That I won’t lose you again.”
Will’s eyes widen, glimmering, as his mouth parts in a question. “Lose me ?” Mike nods, feeling the need to lick his lips as they quickly dry under the weight of the moment, unable to understand why Will’s so confused. “Lose me, Mike? You couldn’t… you could never lose me.”
“Really?” Mike forces out, hearing his own voice sound thick with emotion, breaking with all the things he’s been imagining ever since he pulled Will from the waves. All the things that are keeping him from doing the one thing he wants.
“Really? Because– because lately it feels like all I do is mess up with you, Will,” he says, his chest tightening. Will’s gripping him with such a stare it seems to ripple through his veins—he really needs to stop doing that, or Mikes going to break down right then and there.
“I keep fucking things up, I don’t know what I’m doing–” Mike cuts himself off as he runs a stressed hand through his damp hair, catching his breath as he struggles to keep the lump in his throat at bay. Will tries to grab at his arm, but Mike keeps going.
“God, I’m so sorry, Will. I’m so sorry, I’ll never be sorry enough. I’m sorry for all that stupid, stupid stuff I said when we were– when we were in the woods, I’ve been such an idiot–” he rambles, his body thrumming with nervous energy as he feels Will’s seething yet comforting gaze pierce through him. “Not even just that, I’m– I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve ever said, Will.”
Will stops chewing on the skin on his lip, his mouth parting as he fixes Mike with a look that’s lined with tears, the waterline of his eyes barely holding them back. A shuddered breath escapes his lips, and he gets up so his back isn’t resting against the headboard anymore.
“What do you mean?” he whispers shakily.
“I’m sorry for all the things I’ve said over the years, the ways I’ve hurt you, all because I’ve known that something– that something is…” Something is wrong with me . Mike closes his eyes, knowing the tears flow now, but he doesn’t have the energy to be ashamed. Not when Will is the same way. “And you … you’ve just taken it all, dealt with– with me .”
Will shakes his head slightly, tilting his head upwards at Mike, his brows upturned as if he’s in agony over the words.
What would you do if I told you everything I said was true? That I meant it all? That I still fucking mean it.
Mike knows there’s tears leaking out of him now, feeling them trail down his cheek, his jaw, and down his throat. “I can’t imagine what the past years have been like for you,” he whispers, taking a hiccupy breath. He hopes this is enough for Will to forgive him. “Because this past week has just been torture .”
When Will lets out a sob, Mike’s attention is rapt, his heart twisting at the sound, at the sight of Will’s face so open, so raw. He finally touches Will back, letting his hand soothingly glide up his arm, stopping just before the dressed wounds on his shoulders. “Oh Will, I’m so sorry, I’m so–”
Wait, is Will—is Will laughing? “Mike,” he giggles a little, like he’s gone mad, biting his lip as he stares at Mike with something that makes his stomach flip. Love or insanity? Is this what it feels like to be loved? Because it probably should. “Stop apologising.”
Never , is Mike’s first thought.
Will sniffles, gently taking Mike’s hands off of his shoulders before holding them carefully, mindful of his cuts. “It’s okay. You’ve more than made up for it,” he says, smiling as he glances down at his injuries—the ones Mike has so tenderly taken care of. He laughs a little, as if Mike should reciprocate the gesture.
He doesn’t. Will doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand how much damage Mike’s done, how unworthy he feels of the words that Will has given to him. “No. No, Will. I’ll be making it up to you for the rest of my life.”
It’s a vow, and Will reacts to it like it is one. His face is completely serious now, riddled with concern, even more so as Mike lets out an involuntary sob. He hopes, with all his might, that Will knows how much he loves him—how true that statement is. Mike feels the need to close his eyes, unable to take the way Will’s looking at him, but his breath soon stutters when he feels a gentle, caring hand on his face, rubbing away at the tears on his cheek—a futile task.
“I promise.” Mike thinks the whisper is coming from himself, but when he opens his eyes, he sees that it was Will who said it, blinking away tears. Mike frowns a little, but lets Will continue.
“I do promise, you know,” Will says with a small, sweet, lop-sided grin. “That you won’t lose me.” He says it the way Mike had made his own vow. Meaning… meaning he means it as truthfully as Mike does. With all the truth in his being. So…
“I won’t?”
Will smiles harder, his eyes glistening, but it’s with hope, not tears. “You won’t.” His whisper reaches Mike’s face, the breath gliding over him as Will inches closer. Mike feels the weight of the world lift off his shoulders when Will brings his other hand to Mike’s face as well, leaning forward to press their foreheads together.
The past few days, Mike has felt something akin to that relief: when Nancy gave him reassurance that secrets and privacy aren’t the same as lies, when El gave him the acceptance he’s always wanted. But they don’t hold a candle to this feeling. This warm, fuzzy sensation that’s seeping up Mike’s back, through his stomach, fizzling through every bone.
Will’s sigh is hot against Mike’s face—the face he’s soothingly stroking, a welcoming sensation after everything they’ve been through together. Then Mike gets the urge to look up, daring to try and finally feel what he’s been avoiding all this time. Their eyes meet, and Mike sees Will’s breath catch. He wonders if Will’s waiting, waiting to take the jump. Bridge the gap.
Mike can’t help but feel a little disappointed when Will leans back against the headboard again, disconnecting their touch. But it doesn’t discourage him at all. In fact, it’s more of a curiosity than anything, a curiosity about Will’s flickering expression, his little smile, the way he stares at Mike knowingly.
Oh.
Oh , he wants– he wants Mike to…
To bridge the gap. Take the plunge. Conquer his fear.
Mike’s so grateful—he’s so, so grateful for him.
Will sighs contentedly, wiping a tear from beneath his lash line as he looks around the room. Mike doesn’t follow his gaze, keeping it firmly locked on Will, wondering why he no longer feels that fear—the terror that this will be ripped away from him. Mike moves closer, inching his body toward Will as slowly as possible. Will’s eyes appear to catch on something on the dresser, and he grins, amused.
“God, I look terrible, don’t I?” he laughs, sniffling.
“No,” Mike whispers, still moving closer. His voice is all seriousness, full of wonder. He lets his eyes rake down Will’s body to make a point. Then, Mike locks their eyes together, sincerely in awe. “You look beautiful.”
Will swallows. “What?” he almost-mouths.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Mike is ready to crane his neck towards Will, tilting his face to the side and cupping Will’s jaw with gentle hands, but Will meets him in the middle. And in that moment, Mike knows this is it. This is the final piece of the puzzle he’s been trying to solve his whole life. Maybe he was born to do this. Definitely.
Maybe he should be thinking about how stupid he’s been for not doing this sooner, but he has no time for that. His heart swells, and he has no room for regret.
He’s a little overeager, leaning in a bit too hard, at least for how he wants the kiss to be—soft, loving, conveying everything he’ll be repeating for years to come. But Will’s shaky hands grab his nape and pull him in, embracing it, and Mike is floored. Will is kissing back. He’s running his fingers through Mike’s hair, oh my god , this is the best day of his life.
Sliding a caring hand up Will’s jaw, Mike angles him just right, their lips sliding into place in a way that sends sparks throughout Mike’s body, stealing a sharp breath from him. He can feel Will trembling, but maybe it’s just Mike to be honest, because he’s still holding back so much. He’s been holding back for what feels like decades, so used to it. Maybe they both have been.
Breathless, Mike gains the confidence to pull back just a bit, their noses still brushing as he catches up. He takes a moment to take in Will’s face up close—the way his gorgeous hazel eyes flicker over his own, the way his lips shudder.
“Mi– Mike,” Will whispers, though he’s really just mouthing it.
Mike wants to ask what’s wrong, but before he can, Will’s lips are back on his, and Mike realises Will just wanted to speak his name for a moment. The thought makes him let out a small noise, and Will soon reciprocates.
It’s almost scary how much this feeling isn’t dissipating as they continue, how much Mike wants to be close to Will, to drink him in. His hands stray from his jaw, betraying the best of his intentions as they grasp onto Will’s bare shoulders, sliding down his arms and avoiding the injuries as best he could. He feels Will’s muscles tense with the contact, shivering at the way Will gasps against his mouth. Maybe he should calm down, sensing how much he’s escalating this, feeling how much Will’s shaking. He really doesn’t want to mess things up now–
But then Will parts his lips and runs his tongue over Mike’s top lip and—oh God, whoever said that Mike knows how to hold back anything? Whoever said that he knows what self-control is? Because now he’s chasing, racing after that electrifying contact, tilting his head further to the side to kiss Will open and slow, diving in like a man willingly jumping into the ocean to drown.
Will makes a sound, something between a gasp and a whine, and it’s like a gut-punch—a divinely good one. Mike pulls back, staring at him, and he finds everything’s in a haze like he’s floating or something. Will doesn’t just stare back—no—he looks, he licks his bottom lip, and a couple blinks later Mike has to contend with the fact that Will’s pressing his fingers against his skin roughly, curling around the back of his neck. But it’s not unpleasant at all , in fact, it’s good, it’s maddeningly good.
Mike’s eyes adjust to the light, watching Will’s hooded eyes glance over him and he just can’t resist, he can’t stop himself, leaning back in to press his lips over Will’s, sliding his palms onto his cheeks. Fuck , he forgot about his cuts on his hands, but they’re numb enough, his brain still foggy. The kisses are softer now, more tender as he feels Will grinning underneath his mouth. It allows him to wrap an arm around Will’s waist, memorising every twitch to his body, every lovesick sigh against him. He repeatedly goes to his lips, sucking the corners, the bottom one, the top, oh he could do this all day, he could—
A little giggle, the sweetest sound Mike’s ever heard, comes from under his mouth, and he does the same, shaking his head as he pulls back. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Will whispers, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Mike wants to study his face, so he leans back fully.
His eyes widen at the sight of blood smeared over Will’s left cheek, where he’d splayed his hand. He’d forgotten completely about the fact that was bleeding from it just a few minutes ago. “Oh shit,” he says, laughing at the absurdity of it.
Of course, the moment had to be just a little imperfect, but Mike finds he doesn’t mind—well, as long as Will doesn’t either.
“Wh- what? What’s…” Will puts his fingers up to his cheek, grinning a little. The smile fades for a moment as he looks at his fingers. It’s not like he’s absolutely coated with blood or anything, just enough to be a little funny. “ Mike …” Will rolls his eyes lightheartedly, “Oh my god, that’s so gross.”
Mike finds himself laughing uncontrollably, reaching behind him for a cloth from the medical kit and gently capturing Will’s jaw in his fingertips before wiping the blood off his cheek. “Sorry, sorry, I honestly didn't even notice.”
Will gives a little chuckle before the task is complete, and then he’s looking at Mike again, that stare that sends a little thrill through him, his eyes flicking down to Mike’s lips. But then, they travel to Mike’s hand, the one that had bled all over him.
“You okay?” Will asks, taking the hand in his own again and inspecting it like he’d done before. This time, before Mike can utter something like, ‘Yeah, don’t worry’, Will brings the back of his hand to his lips, kissing it slow and soft before looking back at Mike’s face. Mike’s heart swells and it’s almost too fucking much—god, he just wants to jump him right now, press his lips anywhere he can without hurting him.
“We need to wrap ‘em up,” Will says, giving a sympathetic, comforting smile as he leans forwards and grabs a bandage from where Mike had left them on the bed. “Here, lay out your hands for me.”
Mike smiles back and does as Will says, feeling himself blush, for some inexplicable reason, at the thought of Will wrapping bandages around his hands, the thought of automatically doing what he says without a second thought.
For fuck’s sake, he’s just kissed him silly, yet he’s still blushing at the thought of doing something so simple? Mike wonders how long this giddiness will last.
As Will begins to unravel the material, folding it over Mike’s hands and wrapping them slowly, with such care, Mike spots a stifled yawn on Will’s face. Then another, then another, this one definitely not as subtle. A surge of affection rushes through him. They’ve been through so much, and the rain pattering on the windows is a reminder of it all.
“We need to sleep,” Mike says matter-of-factly, watching with endearment as Will lazily ties up the bandages. It’s not the neatest job, but Mike doesn’t care one bit, leaning forward to brush their noses together.
For a moment, he feels a flutter in his stomach, knowing this is all so new for them. He knows he’ll keep that promise to Will—to make it up to him for the rest of his life, for everything he’s done.
Will laughs, continuing to nuzzle their faces together, and for a brief moment, all is right in the world. “Y- yeah… you’re right.”
Mike moves a little, going to the other side of the bed, before realising what he’s just assumed so tactlessly and stops. “Uh– do you… do you want me to–”
“Can you sleep here? Please?” Will answers for him with a question. Mike grins and nods, brushing some damp hair away from Will’s eyes.
He goes to grasp at the covers so he can get in and finally get comfy and warm when he hears a small gasp from Will at the movement. He glances back at him and, fucking hell, he’s so stupid. “Shit, is your leg… are you still hurting? Are you cold? God, I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice–”
Mike quickly goes for his bag, rifling through to find his spare sweatshirt.
“ Mike , Mike, it’s fine,” Will says with a slight airy chuckle. “You don’t need to do anything else.”
“You’re not cold?” Mike asks, clutching his sweater in one hand, staring at the way Will gazed longingly at it. He shifts closer to him in a flash, caringly brushing more hair from his face and giving him light touches on his bare arm, relishing in the way that goosebumps erupt wherever he touches. “I can help you, Will, if you want, yeah?”
Will nods, a loving smile quirking at the corners of his lips. Mike dresses him carefully, slow with his movements as he guides each of Will’s arms into the right holes and pulls the collar over his head.
“Thank you,” Will whispers, but there are tears in his eyes as he grins, letting Mike know he’s thanking him for more than simply dressing him for bed. “Can we…”
Mike watches as Will opens his arms just a bit, enough to encourage Mike to get under the covers. He throws them over Will as well, making sure they’re both warm.
Then, Will sidles up close to him, and Mike’s heart flutters like he’s finally living his fantasy. Mike gladly accepts it, letting their foreheads bump together softly, wrapping an arm around Will’s waist, and carefully pulling him closer. Happy sighs meld together as they settle in. Mike feels ready to pass out from both exhaustion and elation, especially when Will’s natural scent engulfs him in a haze of comfort and safety.
God he’s so in love. He is whipped , he’d do anything. Anything for him. Without even thinking, Mike breathes out a soft confession as Will’s hair brushes against his nose when the boy leans down. “It’s always been you, Will.”
A few moments of silence pass before there’s sniffling. Shit, is Will–
Mike instantly brings a hand to Will’s cheek, feeling for wetness. “Hey, hey, whassup? What’s wrong? You alright, you alright?” he rambles, searching in the darkness for any signs of hurt. Wait, now he’s confused—the sight of Will smiling accompanied with the sound of him letting out a sob makes Mike’s clouded brain want to question him again.
“M- Mike, I…” Will gasps out. “I never thought this would happen to me,” he says before inhaling harshly, shakily.
Mike’s heart clenches with affection, his hand gently stroking the back of Will’s head. He nods against Will’s face, eyes shut, listening to the soft whimpering from the lips brushing up against his own. “It is. It’s happening.”
Breathing a deep sigh, one that feels like relief, Will nods back, and Mike feels a hand move to the back of his own head, comfortingly rubbing his scalp. “Mm– you won’t… you won’t leave?” comes another small, shy question.
Mike shakes his head as soon as he hears ‘you won’t’. “‘M here, Will. Promise you.” He can’t resist it any longer, pressing his lips forward by a millimeter, connecting with Will’s in a gentle kiss that warms them both. Even when it’s over, their faces are still touching, eyes closed in the dark.
Eliciting a soft sound, Will sighs a breath of relief before sniffling. “Mike, I’m scared,” he whispers. “About what’s gonna happen next.”
“Me too,” Mike replies. He’s not sure what Will really means—whether it’s about Vecna and what he has planned for all of them, whether it’s about what El, Joyce, Hopper, and everyone else is up to, or whether it’s about how the town will react when they see two boys becoming attached to one another. Mike’s response will be the same either way.
“But whatever happens, whatever it is, we’ll be a team. Alright?” he murmurs against Will’s forehead, placing a loving kiss there. “You got that?”
Will nods before tucking his face into the cosy space in between Mike’s shoulder, neck, and the pillow, throwing an arm around his waist and shifting even closer with a soft, contented sigh. Mike feels his heart glow, stroking the back of Will’s head as he’s taken over by the tides of sleep.
“Mike?”
“Mm?”
Will shifts around a bit. “You… you do know that I… that I…”
Mike smiles sleepily, wondering why Will’s so shy. “Mhm, I know, Will. I know.” Will hums, the noise reverberating through Mike’s skin. “Me too.”
As he falls deeper down into sleep, Mike swears he can feel the soft, comforting touches of Will’s lips to his throat, maybe even his face, but oh well. He can feel it properly in the morning. And every day after that.