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Pain wasn’t new to Mike Wheeler.
He’d experienced chronic pain for years now, almost as long as he can remember. He’s sure it started around when Will went missing. Or came back. He can’t remember. It’s just…been there.
And it’s only gotten worse as time’s gone on. Not to mention him getting targeted by Vecna. It just made everything worse.
It was during the final battle, when the curse reached its climax, leaving Mike vulnerable in the Abyss with no one able to reach him until it was so close to being too late.
He wouldn’t have had El to save him.
He doesn’t remember who did.
Just that Will and Joyce took him away from the direct line of fire. He’d been hurt but spared from the same fate as Max, suffering with wounds from the Mind Flayer who caught him before catching Nancy.
That pain still lingered, just like the pain in his joints, in his legs, in every inch of his body it feels like.
The minute he was let out of that military hospital, Will clung to him, protected him, took him to Hopper’s cabin and let him stay.
Hopper gave one of the spare rooms to the two, since Mike’s house was still a crime scene. He seemed to loosen up on Mike, too.
They were still in the cabin now, months later.
Will and Mike were still sharing a bed.
And Mike was trying not to wake Will, because sleep was impossible and he was in pain. Again.
Nothing new but it still feels like he was being stabbed through. He cried silently, trying to hide.
But…of course Will woke up.
Mike knew he would eventually.
He always does.
His voice is scratchy, full of sleep. He barely gets a word out before seeing the shadow of Mike’s body and snapping up. Mike feels him get out of bed, hears his footsteps.
“Mike, what’s your pain level?”
“Eight.”
He had to force the word out, nails digging into his scarred forearms.
“Okay. Okay…I know you’re going to mostly have to ride it out, but your medication is here, and I’ll go heat up a heat pad for you, okay? Is it okay to help you sit up?”
Mike nods. Will shifts the blankets, being so careful as he helps Mike sit up, stacking pillows behind him to keep him propped up.
He opens the pill bottle and the water, handing the correct dosage to Mike. He takes them on his own, Will watching as he plugs in a heated blanket.
“I’ll get the heat pad for your neck. Are you comfortable sitting or do you want to lie down again?”
“I can sit until you come back.”
“Mike, it’s about comfort, I don’t mind.”
He knows Will doesn’t mind. Even if he doesn’t really like accepting help. He’s gotten better at it.
“Sitting. It’s not comfortable but…breathing.”
Will nods, pushing Mike’s hair back and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
And he’s off. Mike feels the slightest bit better. It’s a minuscule amount, but Will’s always helped.
Mike spends the minute and a half just focusing on breathing. Each deep breath hurt, as it always did, even out of flare ups.
He pulled the blanket over his chest, carefully pressing it against the mess of scar tissue beneath his shirt to feel the warmth, to hopefully lessen the pain even the slightest, before the medication kicks in.
It doesn’t work.
It never does.
And like always, Mike wants to throw something in frustration.
He doesn’t. Mostly because he doesn’t want to destroy anything. And because he doesn’t want to be in even worse pain by pressing his luck with moving like that.
He knows he can move his arms alright, even if they’ll spark with pain. His legs and hips were always most affected. At least until recently, then his torso was added to the list.
Before he knows it, Will’s back. Even as that minute and a half drags on.
Will’s fidgeting with the heat pad, carefully draping it behind Mike’s neck.
There’s no attempt to get Mike to lie down. Part of him wants to but this is usually the best position. Even as his head hits his knees. Will’s sat in front of him, just trying to soothe him. There never was much Will could do. But he did what he could. Brought Mike food and water, took care of the heated blanket and heat pads, and sat with him. Always sat with him.
And told stories that sounded like something straight out of Mike’s mental manuscript, filling the hell that was the silence, breaking the flow to ask if he was okay.
And Mik never was.
Isn’t now, his head guided to rest on Will’s shoulder.
He stains Will’s shirt with tears. They flow without him thinking.
His grip on Will’s shirt is weak. Weak but there.
“Let it out, I have you. If we need more help, Mom and Hopper are down the hall..”
Will always reminded him of that. In case he needed to go to the emergency room. It’s happened a few times. Especially his first few flareups since the final battle. He thought he was dying. He begged Will to get Joyce. He begged for Nancy until his voice was gone from sobbing.
He didn’t know if today was one of those days. But the reminder always helped. He gripped Will’s shirt tighter for a second. He understood.
“I got you. You have about 25 minutes until your meds kick in. Once they do, want to try and get some rest?”
He nods. He’s already so tired. He doubts the sleep will happen but it’s okay. Will’s here.
He cries until no tears come. He holds onto Will’s shirt like a lifeline, grip weak but there.
The pain doesn’t get much better.
Will still holds him.
He’s so fucking gentle it makes Mike want to cry all over again.
“Do you need more heat? Or to move? I can’t imagine this is any degree of comfortable…”
“My back. And…maybe we can see if lying down won’t kill me?”
“Okay. We’ll do that. Do I need to get another heat pad?”
Mike nods. And Will’s off. He soon returns with said new heat pad and some snacks, in case Mike can stomach anything.
They get ignored for now, and Mike forces himself to move, lying on Will, that new heat pad half-between them, against the scar on Mike’s torso.
Mike relaxes almost immediately, despite the pain.
“Sorry if I’m hurting you…I know the heat pad-…”
“Mike, it’s okay. Don’t apologize.”
He knows Will has scars on his skin from the heat pads. He’d caught them a couple times. But Will never said a thing. He knows Will doesn’t mind.
“I still feel I should…”
“Mike, you’re in pain. The heat won’t kill me. Don’t worry, okay?”
It was a tough ask, but he tried. Will played with his hair, an encouragement to get him to rest.
He felt Will’s heartbeat against his ear. He’s partially climbing to Will’s shirt again.
Sleep still felt impossible. But he was so fucking tired.
His eyes closed on their own. Will continued that story again. Mike couldn’t process any of it. He just decided to focus on Will’s heartbeat instead.
Eventually, it lulls him to sleep.
Will doesn’t sleep. He stays up. He protects Mike, humming the song that kept him safe from Vecna. Even if he never needed the song, just Will.