Chapter Text
When Will came back to himself, it felt like gravity was realigning as he settled back into his body.
It was the strangest feeling, the way that he settled back into his body, seeing out of his own eyes instead of from the Demogorgon’s eyes. It was odd, like he was being shoved back into a shell that didn't have space for all the teeth and claws that he felt like he had.
His ears were ringing; an eerie sound that made everything seem unreal.
Why was he still alive? Vecna’d had him in his grasp, helplessly at his mercy and then he had just dropped him and walked away. Why had he done that, why hadn't he just snapped Will’s neck and gotten it over with?
That was only one of the questions that he had bouncing around in his head. There were so many questions that he didn't have the answers to, so many things that he wanted to know, that he wanted to solve.
He thinks that he might have solved at least one of them though. One of the ones that had been eating away at him ever since the day that he realized that he didn't like boys.
He wiped at his nose, sleeve coming away bloodied as he swayed in place. He surveyed the desecrated military base in front of him with hazy eyes, flicking over the broken bodies and bits of rubble, the ringing in his ears slowly dying down until.
He snapped his head forward when he registered the hysterical wailing sound that was splitting the air under the sound of fire crackling and metal shrieking.
His eyes snagged on where Mike was kneeling crumpled in front of a knocked over tank, head in his hands and the most heartbreaking sounds leaving his mouth. He sounded like he was in pain, Will could see his shoulders shaking from where he stood.
He stumbled forwards, passing his mom where she was shakily getting to her feet. He was exhausted, legs feeling like they were weighed down by rock with every step that he took, but he powered through it. Something was wrong with Mike, there had to be, or Mike would have already been on his feet and checking to see if Will was okay. That was what he had always done, ever since they were little kids.
It didn't matter if Mike had also been pushed around by bullies, he would always, without fail, turn to make sure that Will was okay, his brows furrowed and eyes big in the way that only he seemed to be able to make them. Mike had sad, dog eyes, always had. Big and soulful as he looked at you with whatever expression he had. There was just something about how big and dark that they were that made them like that.
So, it wasn't right that Mike wasn't there right now, staring him down with those dark eyes filled with concern.
He could see the blood when he got closer, his heart dropping to his feet when he saw the blood soaked hand that Mike was clutching to his face.
He sped up, stumbling the last few steps between the two of them before falling to his knees and resting his hands on Mike’s shoulder’s, pushing the other boy up a bit so that he wasn't hunched over as far as he had been. Will needed to be able to see his face.
Mike flinched away from the touch, letting out a choked sound that interrupted the frantic sobbing that he had been doing for a second before they picked right back up. Will had never heard Mike sound like this, not once in their entire lives.
The sobs sounded like they were scraping his throat, tearing their way out and leaving Mike’s mouth in a wail.
“Mike, oh my God, Mike are you okay, where are you bleeding?”
Mike didn't reply, just kept gasping out wounded noises, his hand still clutched over his face where the blood was coming from. Oh God, if Will had been just a second later, would Mike even be alive to cry like he was doing now, or would it have been more than his face that was covered in blood?
“W-Will, my, uh, my eye, Will, my eye.”
Will jerked when he heard Mike speak, the other boy’s voice coming out pitchy as he gasped around his words, choking on the blood that Will could see dripping into his mouth.
“Let me see it, Mike!” Will demanded, trying to make his voice as demanding as possible but he knew that it came out more shaky and exhausted.
Mike lifted his head, or, he tried to lift his head, all that really did was tell Will just how out of it that he was. Mike’s head lolled on his neck, dipping back and forth a the one dark eye that Will could see rolled back and forth.
Mike looked lost, eye focusing on nothing but seeming to look at everything. He kept making those sounds, the ones that tore through Will’s chest like a physical blow.
“Will, I uh, someone’s crying,” Mike hitched out, a hiccup between his words, and Will watched in horror as his entire body seemed to start shaking even harder than it had before, fingers twitching against the ground and shoulders heaving.
His eyes caught on his mom as she came into view, moving to kneel behind Mike and cupping a hand to the back of his head, palm probably getting wet from Mike’s bloodstained curls.
“You’re crying, Mike, nobody else is here.” His mom said, voice shaking, eyes frantic and blood speckled across her ashen skin as she took in the same thing that Will was seeing.
Blood, tears, how Mike’s entire body was trembling, the way that neither of them had any idea how bad the damage was underneath his hand.
Mike turned towards her, and Will was glad that something had managed to catch his attention, because that meant that Mike was still there somewhat, even when his head dipped and bobbled with the movement.
“No, ‘m not cryin.” Mike hiccupped, his head falling backwards again.
Will was pretty sure that the only things keeping Mike from falling over right there were his hands on the boy's shoulders and his mom’s hand on the back of his head.
“Will, go find something for the bleeding, anything, I don’t care, take it off of someone if you have to.” His mom said, voice urgent.
Will wanted to protest, he wanted to stay there with Mike so that he could figure out what to do to make everything better. But then he looked back down at the blood that was still streaming down Mike’s pallid cheek, dripping down his neck to stain the collar of his shirt, and he knew that he had to listen to her.
He pulled his hands from Mike’s shoulders, muttering an apology that he was ninety percent sure that the other boy didn't hear and stumbled to his feet. His head swam at the sudden change, blood rushing through his ears but he brushed it off.
He took on towards the nearest body, stealing himself to ignore the way that half of the man’s head was gone. What mattered was that the man's shirt was still in one piece. He struggled with it for longer than he should have, but it turned out that taking a shirt off of a corpse was more difficult then he thought that it would be.
He kept darting glances at where his mom and Mike were. She was talking to Mike, her voice low enough that Will could barely hear her from where he was. He was pretty sure that Mike was saying something back, but he couldn’t tell with how much Mike was shaking.
He looked back towards them again, watching as his mom tugged Mike off of his knees to lay against her, his head thrown back against her shoulder. It looked more comfortable then kneeling had looked, but all Will could see was the way that one of Mike’s arms was laying limp at his side and his face, neck and shirt were glinting wetly in the dimly burning fires and flickering floodlights that filled the area.
He got the shirt off eventually, the edges of it stained with blood but it would still do its job. He was about to move back towards his mom and Mike when his eyes caught on the knife that was clipped to the dead man’s belt. He grabbed that as well, and then he was stumbling back towards where he was needed.
“I couldn't find anything else but I found a knife too, so that means we can make strips and wrap it at least.” Will said, holding out the shirt for his mom to see as he dropped to his knees as close as he could get to Mike’s bleeding side.
Mike’s head rolled a bit in his direction, but his eye still wasn't really focusing on anything. He had probably just heard Will’s voice and zeroed in on it.
“That’s fine, we just need to stop the bleeding until we can get him to the hospital.” His mom said, distracted as she stared down at Mike.
Will froze. They couldn't take Mike to the hospital, not when the military definitely knew who all of them were now. It wouldn't be safe, there wouldn’t be anything that they could do to stop it if they decided to storm the hospital and take Mike as leverage.
But if they couldn't take Mike to the hospital. Then how were they supposed to fix this? There was no way that Mike didn't need stitches, not to mention antibiotics and pain medications.
“We can't go to the hospital, mom, the military knows what we look like now, they’ll come for him if we leave him there.” He said, voice breaking as he held a bloody shirt in one hand and a stolen knife in the other.
“... there are still leftover sedatives at the Radio Station, we can get there, give them to him and fix him up. I know Murray practically stocked that place like a damn hospital, it’ll have to be good enough.” His mom said after a pause, something cautious determination lining her tone
“Okay, okay.” He sucked in a breath, looking at the things in his hands and at Mike “Mom, what do I do?”
He didn't know what he was supposed to do, this entire situation had spiraled out of control. He wasn't equipped for this, none of them were. He was fifteen, Mike was fifteen, neither of them should have been stuck in this situation. But they were anyway, because the world wasn't fair.
Mike’s head rolled back towards him from where he hadn't noticed it rolling away, actually seeming to focus for a second as he stared up at him.
Will was scared, he didn't know if whatever he was about to do would make things worse, and he knew that he would hate himself until the day that he died if something like that actually happened.
“Cut off a square and fold it a few times but make sure that it’s still big enough to cover everything. We can put that over it and then use the rest to tie it down and make sure it doesn't move.” His mom said, chin dimpling as she pursed her lips, before she turned to address Mike softly, “You have to move your hand, Mike, we need to see what’s wrong.”
It took barely a second before Mike was dropping the hold on his face, hand smacking limply against the tarmac. Will watched in horror as even more blood streamed down the boy's face, like the hand against his face had been the only thing that was keeping it from spilling.
The gasp that left him was involuntary when he realized how bad the damage actually was. He had been hoping against hope that the damage would only be superficial, a slash down his cheek or one on his forehead, but instead he was greeted with what was probably the worst case scenario.
There was a slash going straight through Mike’s eye, starting above his left eyebrow and cutting down until it ended with a cut through the corner of his lips. It was deep, freely leaking blood and twitching every few seconds whenever Mike’s other eye blinked. It was horrific, maybe one of the worst injuries that Will had ever seen first hand.
He had been possessed in the lab when the Demodog's had attacked, so he hadn't seen any of that go down. He had seen Billy Hargrove’s injuries though, and those were infinitely worse than a single slash wound but that said more about how bad Billy had been hurt than how little that Mike had been. And then there had been the Unknown Hero Agent man who had bled out in the back of Argyle’s van.
But none of those had ever been as personal as the one that Will was looking at now. He hadn't known Billy Hargrove, and he hadn't known the Unknown Hero Agent Man, but he did know Mike. He knew him better than he knew anyone else. He had grown up with Mike, playing side by side for years, and even when they weren't on the best of terms, Mike was still one of his favorite people in the entire world.
“Fuck, mom, his eye, fuck, his eye.” He breathed out, horrified and blinking away the tears that wanted to blur his vision, hands never stopping as they cut the shirt into the shape that he needed, one big piece and a few long strips.
He couldn't afford to falter, he needed to stop the bleeding.
“‘S it gone?” Mike asked, voice slurred enough that it took Will a second to figure out what he had said.
Will couldn't bring himself to answer that, couldn't look Mike in the eye and tell him that he had just lost half of his vision because Will hadn't been fast enough to stop the Demogorgon.
So, instead of replying, he pressed the newly reshaped wad of fabric up against Mike’s face as gently as he could.
It wasn't gently enough, not with the way that Mike let out a choked cry, trying to jerk out from under the fabric. Will just pressed it harder, hating the way that he could already see blood soaking through the edges.
Mike couldn't move away though, not with the way that Will had a hand gripping the unharmed side of his jaw and his mom’s arms wrapped tightly around his ribs.
“Hurts, hurts, Will, it ‘urts!” Mike spluttered brokenly, his voice pitching higher when Will once again pressed down.
“I know, I am so sorry, Mike, it’ll be over soon and then we’ll get you on the good drugs. The ones that me and Robin stole will knock you out hard enough that you won’t feel a thing.” He tried to soothe, feeling frantic.
Suddenly, there was a weak grip around his wrist where it seemed like Mike had managed to find enough strength to lift his hand and wrap his fingers loosely around the wrist that Will was using to try and stop the bleeding. Mike didn't do anything, didn't try to pull his hand away, the hand just sat there, fingers twitching against his pulse as a steady stream of silent tears dripped down Mike’s face.
He had to move Mike’s hand eventually, having to tie the fabric to Mike’s face with the strips that he had. His mom held it in place from behind with one hand, the other still wrapped around Mike’s ribs even though the boy wasn't trying to squirm away anymore. He wasn't trying to do anything any more, and if Will hadn't been able to see the rise and fall of his chest and the way he blinked every few seconds, he would have thought that Mike was dead.
He tied the first strip higher up, trying not to put direct pressure over the place where his eye had been, even when he did it anyways with the second strip because it was stupid not to put direct pressure on the wound you were trying to keep from bleeding.
Mike didn't even react, not when Will and his mom hauled him to his feet, practically dragging him towards one of the still standing military trucks. Mike was limp as they hauled him into the back seat, Will bulling him up to rest against his chest so that he could keep Mike from moving if he suddenly panicked.
Honestly, Will would have probably preferred if Mike was panicking to the blankness that he was seeing now. Mike was still awake, but it was like he wasn't even there, blinking randomly and barely even startling when Will had to prod him to keep him from falling asleep.
There was blood quickly soaking into the fabric on his face, leaving a dark spot in the center of it that was slowly spreading.
The walkie in Derek’s lunchbox that Will hadn't even noticed his mom grab, buzzed from the front seat, static flaring before Lucas’ frantic voice came over it.
“Did any of you see that?! What the fuck just happened?” Lucas asked, voice strained, “Is everyone alright, are you all alive?”
“Mom, hand it to me!” He called, reaching out a blood-soaked hand to grab the walkie after his mom had scrambled to grab it without driving off of the road.
“Lucas, are you still there, are you okay?” Will asked into the receiver, holding his breath as he waited for a response.
“Yeah, I’m okay enough, I’m still down in the tunnels, the Demogorgon’s… they got the kids.”
Will could hear the pain in his voice through the walkie, and he clenched his eyes closed for a second.
“I know, they took the kids that were with us too, Derek and the rest.” Will said into the walkie, “And what do you mean ‘okay enough’? Are you hurt?”
He couldn't help the panic that spiked through him at the thought of having to deal with another hurt Party member. He didn't know if he would be able to handle that, seeing Mike like this was already terrible enough.
“I got grazed on the chest, it hurts like a bitch, but it isn't that deep and it’s not going to keep me from moving, what about you guys?” Lucas asked.
Will wished he had better news to give.
“Me and mom are okay, just banged up, Mike though… one of them got him in the face, Lucas, right through the eye.”
There was a swear from the other side of the connection, the sound of something clattering to the floor.
“Is he still alive!? Is he okay?” Lucas asked, louder than anything else that head asked in the last couple of minutes.
“He’s alive, he’s breathing and he’s awake, but the eye is just gone, Lucas, and I think he’s in shock because he’s not reacting anymore. Can you try and get in contact with Murray and Robin, see if they can come get you and if Murray could hurry back so that he can help us with all the medical stuff he has?” He asked, before another thought hit him, “Can you ask Robin if she can get Vickie? Her gi- her friend from the hospital? We can’t take Mike because of the military but we need someone who knows what they're doing.”
“No need Byers,” Another voice joined the channel, “Me and Murray are on route to Sinclair, we’ll steal a car or something to get him and Murray to the station and then I’ll head straight to the hospital.”
Robin sounded more serious than Will had ever heard her, her voice flat where it usually held a lilting sort of inflection.
He swallowed a lump in his throat that formed at the sound of her voice, so relieved that all of them had made it out of this terrible fucking night alive, and then he almost started sobbing when Erica joined in the broadcast.
“Pick me up on your way back to the Squawk, if you make me walk after all the bullshit that I just saw, I will literally never forgive you.”
Will pressed the walkie against his forehead, the tears that had been building since he had seen Mike knelt on the floor with blood streaming down his face finally falling. They burned as they ran down his cheeks, probably leaving trails in whatever grim was clinging to his skin.
Mike made a sound from where his head was laying against Will’s chest, his good cheek pressed into Will’s shirt and Will automatically ran a soothing hand down the boy’s back. Mike was crying too, tears leaking steadily from his eye, leaving light trails through the blood caked under his eyes as they fell to leave a tiny damp spot against Will’s shirt.
“It’s okay, Mike, we’re almost there, we’ll give you the good painkillers once we’re there. Just a few more minutes." He murmured into Mike’s bloodied hair, some of the pitch-black curls already drying with a crunchy cast of blood defining them.
There was blood soaking into his shirt where Mike’s shirt was pressed against him, going cold as soon as it was out of the body where it was supposed to be. He shivered against the wet, slimy sensation, but he didn't make even a single move to push Mike away.
He kept his eyes on Mike, gently prodding him every time that his eye looked like it was going to flutter closed. By the time that the truck was pulling up to the squawk, Will had taken to consistently drumming his fingers against the good side of Mike’s forehead to keep him awake. He knew that it probably hurt when he touched that close to the wound, but Mike’s eyes had been closing every other minute by the time that the drive was over.
His limbs felt like lead as he dragged Mike out of the backseat, but he didn't let them stop him from practically shouldering all of the other boy’s weight.
Mike made a choked sound when he was moved, head limp on his neck but other than that, he didn't react. This was wrong, Mike always reacted, it didn't matter to what. He was loud and opinionated, so it felt wrong to see him so still.
His mom opened the door for him, and Will dragged Mike through the halls, even doing the more difficult thing of taking him all the way down to the basement even when walking down the stairs made him feel like dying. It would be easier to do everything else if they were downstairs, that was where they stored all their supplies.
He hauled Mike over towards the table that they used for their war meeting, pushing aside chairs so that he could heave Mike on top of it, laying him down, gently setting Mike’s head down so that he didn't hit it. The last thing that Mike needed was a head injury on top of all the other ways that he was hurt.
“Mom, get the pain medication!” He called over his shoulder as he arranged Mike in the most comfortable way that he could.
He shot a look at the boy, making sure his eye was still open before he darted towards where the blankets and sheets were stored, feeling terrible that he was leaving him alone even if it was only for a minute. He needed to get Mike warm again; he knew that that was something that helped with shock. He needed to get Mike’s temperature back up before the shock got worse.
He tugged open the closet, grabbing the first stack of blankets that he saw and piling them into his arms.
He ran back into the room, arms laden with blankets and was glad to see that Mike hadn't moved and that his dark eye was still blinking blearily towards the ceiling.
He was laying blankets over Mike’s still form when his mom hurried into the room, a few vials, syringes and what looked like the suture kit that Murray had picked up from who knows where clutched in her hands.
“I got it.” She said frantically, setting them on the corner of the table and unwrapping one of the syringes from the plastic packaging that it was wrapped in.
He heard footsteps pounding their way down the hidden staircase and ripped his head around to see Murray of all people, running faster than Will had ever seen him move before, the Sinclair siblings following after him.
“Did you already give him any of that?” Murray demanded, coming up to the table and letting out a swear when he saw the boy laid out on it.
“No-no, I haven't given him-” His mom said, shaking her head and Murray was quick to take the vial and syringe from her.
“Good, we can’t give him enough to knock him out because his heart could fail if he goes unconscious, he’ll need to stay awake at least until the bird can get her nurse friend here.” Murray said, putting the syringe through the cap of one of the vials and drawing out what seemed like the tiniest bit of the medication with practiced hands, “It’s going to suck but I’m going to make an educated guess and say that he needs stitches?”
Will nodded absently, one of his hands moving to clutch at Mike’s where it was hanging out from under the blanket. His eyes landed on Lucas when the boy staggered forwards, hands knuckling tightly around the edge of the table as he stared down at Mike with a stricken face.
“Then he’ll need them done awake. I can do them.” Murray said, flipping the corner of the blanket up to get access to Mike’s blood covered arm.
“You know how to do stitches?” His mom asked, sounding stricken at the idea of Mike getting stitches done while awake.
Will felt the same way, he would much rather that Mike be knocked the fuck out before anyone came anywhere near his face with a needle and thread. All he could hope was that the pain meds did their job and that the shock was enough to dull whatever remained.
He flinched as he watched Murray piece the needle into Mike’s limp arm, the needle sinking in farther than Will thought that it should. He didn't like needles, not after how many times he had been stuck with them after he had been rescued from the Upside down.
“Yeah, I can do stitches. It’s a vital skill to have when you are in my profession. The odds of getting maimed while searching for the truth are truly astronomical.” He chuckled as he reached for the suture kit, undoing the zipper and pulling on a pair of the rubber gloves that were folded away inside of it.
Will watched as he threaded a needle, before turning his focus back to Mike, pulling up a chair so that he could sit by Mike’s head and still hold his hand. He watched as a tension that he hadn't noticed before, left Mike’s body, the pain medication seemingly kicking in. The boy’s head rolled against the table, eye fluttering as he mumbled something incoherent under his breath, hand clenching in Will’s.
He looked more alive than he had five minutes ago, moving enough that Will didn't have to watch his chest to make sure that he was alive.
“Is he going to feel it?” Lucas asked, eyes trained fearfully on the needle from where he was sitting by Mike’s feet, his shirt off and a towel pressed to the wound against his chest.
“Probably.” Murray replied, sounding apologetic, “Well, definitely, but the faster I get it done the fast that it can be over. I’ll need him to be held down if he starts struggling, but hopefully he should stay as still as that dead Demogorgon was.”
Will swallowed against the reminder of what he had done, but now wasn't the time for him to tell everyone that it had been him that had taken out the monsters. He couldn't afford to distract Murray and his mom when they were the only adults in the building and one of them was about to do stitches on his best friend's face.
Lucas actually gagged when Murray untied the torn shirt from Mike’s face, Erica’s face going ashen from where his mom had tucked her under her shoulder to try and shield her from what was about to happen. Will didn't feel very far behind Lucas,
Murray whistled as the gory slash marks were bared to the open air, new blood weeping down the side of Mike’s face now that the cloth had been pulled away. Mike whined, eye rolling in his head and blood staining his lips, mixing with the drool that was leaking out of the side of his mouth, a tiny pink bubble forming in it every time that Mike heaved out a breath.
“You sure you guys all want to be here for this? Byers here would probably be able to hold him down all by himself if I need him to.” Murray said, lining up everything that he was going to need on the table top besides him.
“I’m not leaving him.” Lucas said, determination in his voice, “He’s never left us, so I’m not going to leave him, Erica should leave though.”
Erica looked pissed at his words for a second, but Will watched her shoot a look back towards Mike’s face where blood was starting to stain the wood of the table. He saw even more blood drain from her face, before she was shrugging off his mom’s arm and darting towards the stairs.
Will sighed in relief once she was gone. He didn't want her to have to see what was about to happen. He didn't want to see what was about to happen.
“What he said, I’m not leaving, let’s just get this over with.” Will said, clenching his eyes shut as he watched Murray pick up the needle.
He couldn't watch, he just couldn't, but he couldn't cover his ears because he was holding Mike’s hand and he almost thought the sound might have been worse than anything that he might have seen.
There was a squishing sound, one that repeated over and over, and then there was Mike, making heaving little sobbing sounds, not even full sobs. They were a cross between a hiccup and a breath that made it sound like he was choking. Mike’s cold hand was clenching erratically in Will’s hold, fingers gripping weakly every time that Will heard the needle pushed into Mike’s skin.
Mike cried out, louder than he had before and Will felt his eyes fly open without his control, darting towards Mike’s face and taking in the sight of Murray pulling the thread through the edge of the skin where Mike’s eye had used to be. There were stitches being placed vertically down the main slash wound, but there was also a line of smaller horizontal ones being placed to hold the remains of an eyelid closed.
The thread was too dark; it stood out against the blood and the pallid skin like sharpie against white paper. It shouldn't have been there. Mike was moving the smallest bit, his shoulders rolling back and forth against the surface that he was laying on and his fingers twitching, but the hold that Murray had on his face was keeping him from turning away from the new pain.
Will felt bile pooling in the back of his mouth now that he was watching, unable to look away now that he knew what was happening. It was like a car crash, he couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away from the tragedy that was unfolding in front of him.
Mike would never be the same after this, there was something that was going to be irrevocably changed once he was on the other side of this. His face would never be the same, his sight would never be the same.
Will had thought that it had been bad when Lucas had tearfully described the way that Max’s eyes had gone bloodshot and white, but now that he was looking down at Mike with half of his face mauled by a creature straight from his nightmares, he was pretty sure that this was worse.
No, both things were equally as terrible, but Mike’s was hitting him harder because he had been there to see it. He had Mike’s blood staining his hands and clothes, he had watched as Mike had slowly gone limper and limper until he was barely even responding to the pain anymore.
He watched as Murray wiped away some of the blood before he started each stitch, Mike barely reacting when it was the needle that was jabbing into his skin, it was the thread being pulled through his torn flesh and the wound being pulled together that sent Mike jerking pitifully, wounded noises falling out of his mouth right alongside the blood stained drool.
Nothing felt real as he watched Murray methodically place stitches. There wasn't something that should have been happening and his mind was having trouble comprehending that it was.
He didn't know how long it took for Murray to finish the stitches, but the end was heralded with one final snip of the scissors in the otherwise silent room, Mike’s sounds of pain notwithstanding.
Will moved in an exhausted daze as he tucked the blankets closer around Mike, watching with half an eye as Murray wiped down Mike’s face the best as he could, skin stained pink and freckles even darker than normal because of the blood loss.
Mike’s eye was half lidded, breath whistling through his nose as he stared up at the ceiling.
This night had been absolutely terrible, worse that Will could have even imagined it going. So many scenarios had passed through his mind when the plan to get the kids out of Hawkin’s was hatched, but not in a single one did he imagine that this was how it was going to go.
He had managed to tap into Vecna’s powers, taking control from the portion of the hivemind that he was able to tap into and he had managed to keep three of his friends from dying. He had to keep telling himself that or the guilt would eat him alive if he stopped to think about Mike’s face and the slash across Lucas’ chest.
He was exhausted, whole body aching from the pain that had transmitted from the burning Demogorgon’s and how his bones had creaked when Vecna had suspended him in the air.
He wasn't really surprised with the way the world tilted around him when he stood up, he really should have expected given the darkness that had been creeping in around the edge of his vision for the last twenty minutes.
The world tilted and his last thought was that he was glad that his mom had managed to lunge around the table to catch him before he hit the cold, hard ground.