Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The light was blinding as Mike opened his eyes, coming to in a panic, shaken to his core, breathing hard and fast, squinting as his eyes adjusted, trying to look around at the people surrounding him. His friends. His sister. Will was notably absent. 

“Mike, I thought- I didn’t know if you’d wake up,” Nancy said through panicked breaths, her voice cracking as tears slipped from her eye, which she ignored as she pulled him into a suffocating embrace. His friends followed suit, burying him in a pile of love, and he was grateful, but he had more important matters to worry about than his own safety, his own life. 

His thoughts turned from Will for a moment, thinking about the vision he had been shown, checking to see if El was present — she was right by his side, looking relieved but anxious. He knew he had to talk to her after he had brought Will home, and he supposed this was an extra thing they ought to discuss. He had to keep her safe. They all did. He realised then, why, perhaps, he was shown this. Before, he hadn’t been sure, had just assumed that Vecna had shown him visions of her dying merely to scare him, but it occurred to him then that, since he had been ripping away every last memory and thought he had regarding Will, perhaps this was yet another way of doing so. Scaring him into protecting El to further isolate Will, to discard his safety in preference for El’s. Mike refused to let that happen, refused to let himself be tricked and, whilst he was intent on ensuring her safety, Will’s was more pressing. 

“You scared the shit out of me, Wheeler,” Max admitted from where she sat in her wheelchair. 

“I’m surprised you even cared,” Mike huffed a laugh, but they exchanged a look that showed they were both glad he had made it out. 

Nancy stayed right next to him, not moving her hand from his shoulder. He realised then that she had almost lost both her little sister and brother in the span of mere days. His heart clenched in his chest, but he had a one track mind, and it was stuck on Will. He had time. He could have all the excruciatingly difficult conversations that he wanted to avoid but knew he couldn’t, with all the people he needed to once Will was safe and sound, he conceded, already dreading it. 

“What happened?” Dustin asked once they had all let go, dispersing again as Mike stayed half lying on the floor.

“I-” Mike didn’t know where to start, and, frankly, didn’t really want to explain what had happened, and instead focused on what really mattered. “Where’s Will?”

“Will? He was just on the-” Joyce began to say, trailing off as she turned around to find that Will was not where she thought he had been. 

“Did anyone see him leave?” Lucas asked, looking around, but was met with shaking heads and fearful eyes. 

“He could have just gone out for some air?” Robin suggested, with a wince, betraying the fact that even she didn’t believe herself. 

“I know where he is,” Mike announced, clambering up from the floor onto his feet, bolting towards the door, certain of where he was going to find Will now that he knew he wasn’t at the Squawk anymore. 

“Where are you going? Mike?” Nancy called behind him, following him out of the room. 

“Out. To find Will,” Mike stated bluntly, not turning around to face his sister. 

“Mike, you can’t go running off by yourself, especially after what just happened,” she explained frantically, standing in front of him, blocking his way. 

“I don’t care about that, I need to find Will, and I know where he is.”

“Okay, then, where is he?” Jonathan suddenly appeared behind him, joining Nancy in stopping him leaving. “Is he in danger?” 

“He’s- it doesn’t matter, just let me go and find him.”

“Not on your own. Let us come with you,” Jonathan suggested, none of them willing to give in.

“No,” Mike frowned petulantly, feeling like a whiny child but not caring in the slightest. He didn’t want them to be there, needing to be able to talk to Will without anyone else present. Once he saved him, and he would save him, they had to talk. Alone. 

“How are you planning on getting to wherever he is? You’re just going to walk all the way there?” Nancy asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Okay. She had a point. 

“I don’t- I don’t know. I just need to find him,” he said, his voice laced with desperation. 

“And you won’t tell any of us where he is? Or if he’s even okay?” Joyce questioned, coming up behind him. 

“He’s-” Mike wished he could say that Will was okay. That they just needed to talk, that he could find him and bring him home with ease. But that wasn’t the case and he knew it. “Just let me go and find him.”

“We will,” Nancy told him, “but let me and Jonathan drive you there, okay? And we’ll be there if anything happens and you need our help.”

Mike sighed, “okay,” he surrendered, thinking only of Will, “if you promise to stay in the car unless I ask for help, you can drive me there and wait outside.”

“No, I’ll drive,” Joyce argued, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Mom, you should stay here in case anything happens. We’ll be fine on our own,” Jonathan brushed her off. 

“Will is- is God knows where, potentially in danger, and if you think I’m just going to sit here and wait for him to get back-”

“Mom, please. Just let us handle this. We’ll make sure Will gets back in one piece. He’d appreciate knowing that you’re here, safe.” 

“But Jonathan-”

“He’s right,” Hopper appeared suddenly, looping an arm over Joyce’s shoulder, gently pulling her away. “Let them sort it. Let Mike do what he needs to do.”

“The more we stand around talking, the less time we have to find Will,” Mike snapped, pushing past Nancy to leave. “I appreciate that you all want to come, and frankly I don’t care who does and doesn’t at this point as long as you stay in the car, we just need to go.”

“Mom, I need you to trust me,” Jonathan looked intently at Joyce, fire in both of their eyes. 

“I do trust you, Jonathan, but I need to be there for Will.”

“You’re always there for him, mom. Always. He knows that,” he told her, his voice softening. “Let him handle this one without you, just this once.”

She sighed, “okay. I love you. Be safe.”

“I love you, too,” he told her, pulling her into a hug. 

“Can we go now?” Mike huffed impatiently, unable to stand still, fidgeting as he paced up and down. 

Nancy nodded. 

“Just remember, you’re only there to drive me. You’re staying-”

“In the car, yes I know. Also we’re all taking walkies and a walkman each. No arguing,” she said firmly, going back to grab supplies and car keys, throwing Mike his rucksack. “Be on hand in case it all goes to shit. I have no idea what’s going on but just in case,” she muttered to Robin, who saluted her with an anxious smile.

Mike all but ran out to the car, breathing in the fresh air deeply before he climbed into the back seat, letting his sister and Jonathan take the front seats. 

“So, where is he?” Nancy asked as she started up the car, turning around in her chair to look at him with an unreadable expression that Mike didn’t want to believe was pity. 

“The church,” Mike mumbled, before biting his lip hard enough to taste the iron on his tongue. 

“What’s he doing there?” Jonathan questioned, bewildered, as Nancy began to drive, sensing Mike’s haste as she sped faster than he had ever seen her drive. 

“I don’t know,” he sighed, unable to offer a better response, unwilling to tell them that he was certain it was Vecna’s doing. Or the Mind Flayer, or whatever it was that wanted desperately to steal his boy away from him. 

Not your boy, a voice in the back of his mind reminded him, but he pushed it down, refusing to acknowledge it. He had bigger problems than that right now. 

“How do you know he’s there?” Nancy prodded, as it began to feel like Mike was being interrogated. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as his heart pounded with the fear of what was to come. 

“I-” he paused, unsure of how to tell them without telling them everything that he had just seen, everything he had just realised. “I saw it.”

“When you were in your trance?” Jonathan asked. 

Mike nodded. 

“What else did you see?” 

He shrugged, offering no other answer. Jonathan and Nancy exchanged a look, both frowning, communicating something Mike couldn’t read. He was reminded of him and Will, of their own unique ability to read each other when others couldn’t. 

“Mike, it’s okay, you can tell us, whatever it was,” Nancy tried to get it out of him, but Mike had no words to describe the feelings breaking out of his chest. 

“It was just- it was Will,” was all he could manage, his voice breaking, betraying him, once he got to his best friend’s name, his eyes welling up. 

“Okay, so what was Will doing in this vision?” Nancy asked gently. 

“It wasn’t a vision, or it started as one but then I saw- they- they were memories. That I think Vecna made me forget. But now I remember and I don’t know what to do, I just need to see him, but he’s in trouble and I- he- I need to save him and I-” Mike spoke very quickly, mind racing as the tears began to fall, “I’m scared.” He began to cry in earnest at that admission, his vision fogging as he let himself break down, not remembering the last time he cried in front of another person, let alone his sister. 

“Mike, hey, it’s alright, we’ll find him, okay? We’ll find him,” Jonathan spoke gently, in the same tone Mike had heard a younger version of him use when he talked to a little Will, his sad but determined eyes filled with kindness that Mike wasn't sure he deserved. “We’ve found him before.”

Mike nodded, but fear still gripped him, squeezing him tightly, as his hands shook and his mind raced. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to save Will in such a state, forcing himself to take deep breaths and focus on Will; he tried to dwell not on his despair, but his love for him. 

Mike’s stomach was churning when they pulled up outside the church, terrified of what he would find when he walked through the doors. He’d seen enough doors for one day, he thought with a soulless laugh. 

What if he was too late?

What if Will wasn’t alone?

What if he was about to walk into some kind of death trap?

“You okay?” Nancy asked once she stopped the car, twisting around to see him. 

He nodded. 

“If you need anything at all in there, we’re only here, okay? If you’re more than forty five minutes, I’m coming in to find you.”

“I might need more time than that. Just- I’ll be fine.”

“An hour. Then I’m coming in,” she raised an eyebrow. 

“No. I don’t know how long I’ll be, but just let me take as much time as I need. Please. I’ll let you know if I need help.”

“Okay,” she sighed, a forlorn look in her eye, “Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Good luck. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Jonathan turned to him then. “He’ll be fine, just be careful,” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Mike realised then how much restraint it must have taken Jonathan to allow Mike to do this alone, rather than barging in there himself and bringing his brother home. In the chaos of his own misery, he was devastated to find that he had forgotten that Will meant a lot to the rest of them, too. They all wanted him safe just as much as Mike did. Guilt bubbled up to the surface, but he tossed it away, forcing himself to focus on one thing only: finding Will. It gave him a sickening sense of nostalgia for a time he almost wished he hadn’t had to have remembered. 

“Thanks,” he gave what he hoped was a smile, but his lips barely twitched, before clambering out of the car, slinging his bag onto his back, and walked towards the church. 

He attempted, fruitlessly, to get his breathing under control as he pushed the door open, wincing at the darkness that greeted him as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a click. 

The light of the moon shone through long, thin windows, and an eerie silence blanketed the room. Mike shattered it, as his footsteps echoed against the tiled floor. Frames were hung on the walls, figures on crosses or adorned with halos, sheep and lions resting together in an unlikely harmony, the innocence of a baby in a stable, paintings depicting scenes of light, of hope, of peace, of joy, of love. Mike felt a twist in his gut at the darkness that had fallen upon the room, at the countless sins resting within him, in his body and in his mind, hissing and snarling at him, taunting the part of him that desperately prayed not to be different, and he forced down the shame, quashing his own disgrace with all of the strength he had, for himself, for Will. The neat rows of pews sat exactly where they had in the memory, the altar casting a shadow over the silhouetted figure of Will, who knelt before it, and Mike didn’t waste a second, rushing towards him as soon as he saw him, ignoring the incessant pounding in his chest. 

As he reached him, crouching before him on the cold floor, it was somehow worse than Mike had feared. Will’s usually hazel eyes, bright and full of life, were overcast, entirely white, clouded and cold, as if somebody had taken his best friend and replaced him with a doll, an unseeing, unmoving doll, glass resting in the sockets. 

He found himself not hesitating now to reach out and touch him, as he grabbed his shoulder and gave it a shake, “Will? Will, can you hear me?” 

There was no answer. 

Not even a flinch. No small glimmer of life emanating from him in a flash. 

“Will, please, it’s Mike,” he said desperately, still shaking him, with both hands now, but to no avail. “Please,” he whined, almost under his breath. 

Refusing to waste just a second, Mike shrugged his bag off of his back and rooted around for what he was looking for, pulling out his walkman and headphones, rummaging further until he found a tape that he had not yet played, for it did not belong to him, not anymore. In his messy scrawl, he had written ‘for Will’, hoping to gift it to him, before he was forced to forget, both about Will and the present, which had been weighing down his bag for weeks, breaking his back with its unwavering significance that Mike had not been offered the chance to unpack, the answer to the gaping pit in his chest. Attached was a letter, and he tore off the paper as he fiddled with the box, inserting the tape with trembling hands, placing the headphones atop Will’s head and pressed play, pleading, praying to all the gods he didn’t believe in that it would work, that Will would wake and they would all be okay, that he could read him the letter and perhaps work things out between them. 

As he heard the familiar sound of guitars bleeding through the headphones placed gently atop Will’s head, he unfolded the letter he had written just a few short months ago, and decided to read it to him, doubting Will could hear it through the noise of music, or that sound could even reach him, but he wanted to try nonetheless, to speak the words out loud just in case Will never got to read them for himself. He needed him to know. He needed to know for himself that he had tried. He needed the catharsis of letting it all out, even if the letter didn’t reveal the full truth. Mike couldn’t even remember exactly what he had ended up writing, just that he had written and rewritten it time and time again, not quite managing to get it right, finding that every time he tried, it blurred too many lines between them, but if he drew the line where he thought it ought to be, it didn’t feel honest anymore. Looking back, he decided he needed to erase the line entirely. 

“Will, 

I wanted to make you something special, because you’ve made me so much beautiful art over the years and I always worry that I’m not giving anything back, even though you say I don’t have to, and that my campaigns are like my art (I really appreciate that, by the way). You’re always doing things for me and I worry that I’m not doing the same. I hold closely every piece you have ever gifted me, including every scrap of paper with scribbled pencil lines drawn in a haste. They all mean the world to me, Will, as do you. One day I’ll write a book and dedicate it to you in the hope that it might hold a fraction of the significance to you that your art means to me. 

Anyway, I think you’ll like this. It’s just a compilation of some of the music we’ve spent so much time listening to over the past few months in my basement. I always love it when you come home with a new album, because it means I get to sit with you and it almost feels like it used to when we were younger. You’re the only piece of normality I can find at the moment. It’s been nice getting to spend time with you again, not only because we can forget about the end of the world, but because it’s just easy. I like being with you, probably more than being with anybody else. It’s still different, though, to how it used to be when we were kids. I don’t know if it’s my fault, or merely the result of getting older. I think growing up would’ve been easier if I’d let you stay by my side through all of it. You’d have made it brighter, warmer, maybe, like an eternal summer. It felt so cold without you. I miss the sun. I miss you. I know you’re right here, but I wish things hadn’t changed. 

Sorry this isn’t very articulate, and I’m sorry I couldn’t get it done in time for your birthday, but you mean so much to me and it’s been so hard trying to get it right. Your music taste is much better than mine. Don’t judge me too harshly. I hope this is enough to last until the world ends. 

Love,

Mike”

His voice cracked as he uttered the word ‘love’, pouring out every ounce of it he had into Will, his true feelings hidden inscribed between the lines. Still clinging to him with one hand, his eyes fixated on him as he begged him to fight it, to get himself out of whatever hell he was in, hoping that the music would trigger the same memories that it did for him, helping him escape. 

This couldn’t be the end. He refused to accept it. He wasn’t going to lose Will. Not now, not ever. He grabbed hold of both of his arms, holding him with gentle desperation, with all the love he could muster, leaning closer to him to catch his scent, breathing it in as he cried against his chest, pressing his weight into him, and Will didn’t budge, didn’t move a muscle as Mike’s body shook, tears dampening Will’s jumper. 

“Will, please, I can’t- I can’t do this without you, I- I need you. I need you to wake up, please, Will-” he choked through sobs, his chest burning as he ached for his best friend, clinging onto him, fully wrapping his arms around him now, so close he could feel his heartbeat, offering him a slice of comfort that nothing else could bring him. The music still played in his ears, but seemingly to no avail. He thought back to all the memories he had just reclaimed, all the history he had just uncovered between the two of them, and prayed that it wasn’t all for nothing, that he could bring Will to safety. He couldn’t lose him again. The thought of having just experienced all that he had, having just allowed himself to begin to come to terms with the part of him that scared him the most, and it mean nothing at all, made his heart break in his chest with every passing second that Will stayed in his trance, unmoved by the music, the one thing that he thought could get through to him, could find him and bring him home, could bring him back to Mike. 

His hope dwindled with every moment that went by, but he refused to give up on him. As long as his heart still beat in his chest, he believed he could save him. 

Will’s neck twitched. Then his arm. 

Mike pulled back, not letting go, but loosening his grip enough that he could look up to him, to see his face, his eyes, as he awoke. 

Will’s eyes rolled into view, and Mike’s heart leapt. 

He blinked, then tore the headphones from his head, discarding them on the floor beside him, looking right at Mike, but not seeming to see him. His eyes were a dark shade of brown, his pupils wide. 

It wasn’t Will, not really, Mike realised as he stared at the familiar, but painfully wrong, version of his best friend. 

“Will?” 

Will didn’t respond, not even seeming to hear him as he stared blankly into the darkness, unseeing, empty. 

It reminded him of those few short years ago when Will’s consciousness had been taken captive. Hospital gowns and wooden sheds. Blood, and agonising screams that he desperately tried to block out with his hands, but that still haunted him in the dead of night. 

They had saved him once before. He could do it again. 

“Will?” he said again, pitifully, unsurprised by Will’s lack of reaction. “Please?” 

Will knelt, motionless, his headphones still playing music as they lay on the ground beside them. 

He blinked again, before looking up, seeming to, at least somewhat, register what was before him, or rather who. There was no flicker of expression or emotion in his face, but for a moment, Mike saw a flash of Will in his eyes, before it disappeared in an instant, being replaced by this darker, shadowed version of him. Mike yearned to reach inside his body, to root around for what was rotten, for what was broken, and fix it, just to bring Will back to him. 

“Mike,” he said, emotionless, dull. It echoed, bouncing from wall to wall, making Mike’s ears ring as he heard the voice over and over. It didn’t sound like Will, not really. The voice was deeper, though not like it was in the mornings before he was fully awake, scratchy in a way that Mike secretly quite liked; it was grating and cold, devoid and lifeless. It wasn’t Will. It wasn’t his best friend. 

Despite that, he had seen him, he had recognised him, he had said his name. A part of him was still in there, if only a tiny sliver of him. Mike’s heart surged with the knowledge that he could be saved. He clung onto him tighter, shaking, but determined. 

“Will? Will, I know you’re in there, please, Will,” Mike begged, desperation rushing through his veins as he tried to fill himself with hope. 

“Mike,” Will repeated, the same hollow tone, the same vacant eyes, drained of life, emptied of everything that made him Will. 

Will twitched again, his neck twisting to one side unnaturally, his hands coming up towards his face jerkily, as if being yanked by strings pulling his limbs at awkward angles, but he didn’t look in pain. He didn’t look like he felt anything at all. Mike frowned, thoughts racing as he watched his body spasm, his eyes still blank, unseeing. 

In a second, without any sign of warning, Will lurched towards him, wrapping his hands around his neck, clawing at him, pulling him into a tight, sickening embrace by his throat, before throwing Mike backwards with a strength he didn’t know he possessed. The back of Mike’s head hit the tiled floor beneath him hard, dizzyingly, but he barely registered the pain as he stared up at Will, who now towered over him, laying on top of him, bracketing his hips with his knees, the pressure on his neck getting stronger by the second, Will’s expression still vacant, without a hint of life in his darkened eyes, his irises now almost entirely consumed by the black hole of his pupils. He struggled for breath, seeing stars as the already dark room began to fade around the edges, desperately willing himself to believe that it was his quickly depleting oxygen causing him to dig around in the shameful depths of his mind to times when he had imagined Will like this, pressed close above him, trying fruitlessly to push the thoughts away as their foreheads were almost touching, noses not quite brushing, inching nearer to him, the taste of salt sitting heavily on his tongue, either from sweat or tears, or both, he wasn’t quite sure. 

“Will-” Mike rasped, attempting to gasp for air, as his vision blurred, Will fading out of focus in front of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel the pain he knew was there as he felt him press closer to him than he had ever been. Will’s fingers were digging into his neck, certainly leaving bruises from where they gripped him tightly, relentlessly, but they were so close, so achingly close. 

With all the remaining energy he could gather as he slowly slipped away from himself, strangely comforted by being beneath the boy he loved most, Mike reached his arms up, cupping Will’s cold hands gently, shaking as he blanketed Will’s skin with his own, tracing the outline of his fingers, trembling, silent tears slipping from his eyes, dampening his cheeks as he struggled to utter his name, falling further away from his own body. Distantly, he felt an odd relief at his departure; if he were to die at the hands of anybody, he would want it to be Will, even if it wasn’t really Will at all. Will would never hold him like this, would never hurt him, would never be able to live with himself if he knew, but for Mike, his mere presence was enough to put him almost at ease in his final moments, no longer gasping for air, body ceasing to cry out for oxygen, as he gave in, his vision going black. 

Mike let out a tiny gasp. 

It was small, minuscule, but it was more than he had managed in the moments prior, the grip on his neck loosening ever so slightly, giving him room to breathe, just a little. Mike’s hands tightened around Will’s once he had mustered the strength, squeezing once, twice, feeling Will’s steady heartbeat on his wrists, beginning to breathe in synch with his pulse. He wasn’t sure what had caused Will to stop, not daring to believe that it was merely his own touch, his delicate hands, but struggled to find an alternative answer, though, if he was honest, he didn’t really care, was just grateful to be alive in a way that he hadn’t been since he was a small child. 

Will was still looking through him, cold and distant, but every now and then, his expression flickered with something familiar, and Mike knew, there and then, that he was still in there. He just had to find him, somehow access him through the shadows that threatened to steal him away into the darkness. Mike only had to find the light, and guide him towards it. He just had no idea how. 

The music and letter had worked in a way, he supposed, having awoken him from his trance, but hadn’t brought him all the way back. He had to try something else. Something new. 

Or perhaps something old. 

Something he had tried before. 

It was just him, this time, he reminded himself. It had to work. It had to be powerful enough to reach him. Every word had to count.

Unsure if he could even speak after the tight grip that Will had caught him in, the grip that was still slowly loosening, he attempted to say his name. Just his name, uttering it like a prayer. 

“Will,” he choked, barely audible as his throat throbbed, deep purple bruises forming, Will’s hands still wrapped around him, encased in Mike’s own hands, steadier now. 

“Will- I-” he paused, coughing, neck burning, but he forced himself to continue. It was all he could think to do. His voice was quiet, scratchy, but with a warmth, a softness, reserved just for his best friend. “I think I was forced to forget about you. I think that whatever it is that’s holding you captive and controlling you right now made my memories of you slowly fade until I could barely recall a single one. For a while, you were just my friend, Will, and I wasn’t able to question it, because that’s all I knew. I think it made me seem distant, but you’ve always had such a gravity that I can never resist, and I still felt that even when I couldn’t remember how we met. I’m like a magnet to you, Will. But I’ve avoided you on purpose, too, of my own accord, because the pull I feel towards you scares me. You don’t scare me, though. You never have. I scare myself. And I’m terrified of losing you, and I can’t let that happen now, Will. Please,” Mike spoke gently, ignoring the burning in his throat, the tightness in his chest, as he continued. 

“Earlier, I revisited some memories. I don’t know how, but they were your memories. I realised, belatedly, how little I’ve been there for you these past few years, and how much better you deserved. I couldn’t be more sorry, Will. I’m supposed to be your best friend, and I used to treat you like that when we were kids, but I messed it all up because- I- I’m not…” he trailed off, unsure what he was trying to tell him, “I’m more similar to you than I realised. It freaked me out, because I had all these weird feelings about you that I didn’t understand, or perhaps understood perfectly well, but didn’t want to, and I thought if I pushed you away, tried to be normal, or how my parents expect me to be, then I could get rid of them. But when I pushed you away, it always made me feel worse, and I was just hurting both of us. Being around you has always been so easy, Will. I feel so much lighter, like nothing could harm us, even with the end of the world looming over our shoulders. I don’t feel that shame when it’s just the two of us laughing in my basement or reading comics together or- or anything; I just feel safe. I know you used to feel like that around me, too. I think you still do sometimes, but even when you come to me, it feels like we’re both holding back. I know we both had secrets, and we both drowned in them, even within our own little sanctuary. Like that night when you had a bad nightmare and you came into my room. In the moment, in the dead of night, it was safe. There were no dangers around us, no alarm bells ringing in my head that you were too close to me when you fell asleep in my bed and we got closer and closer until you were in my arms. It was all I wanted. I wanted you to need me and feel comforted by me and you did. You did. But then I woke up and you’d already gone, and we never spoke about it, and I pushed it to the back of my mind and pretended it didn’t happen. For weeks after that, I hardly slept and I refused to acknowledge the fact that it was because I was waiting up for you, hoping you’d come back. Then there was that evening when you were in my room and just never went down to the basement to sleep, and we both fell asleep in my bed. You drifted off first, and I never wanted you to leave, and somehow in the night you ended up in my arms again, but the same thing happened; we just never addressed it and pretended nothing had changed. Talking to you is the easiest thing in the world until it comes to talking about myself, or things that matter, or things that I don’t want to confront. I just avoid it until I suffocate. And I know that hurts you. I know it does. I wish I could go back in time and never hurt you or make you feel like you couldn’t be yourself around me, because I just want you to feel safe with me again. I want to go back to when we were kids, playing make believe games about wizards and magic spells and monsters. Do you remember those games? They didn’t even feel like games at the time. It was real, all of it. Please remember, Will. I want to go back in time and never break that Paladin’s Oath I made to you when we were little. I know it’s not real, really, but the sentiment was. I swore to it because I wanted to always protect you, and from now on, I always will. I promise. For real, this time. I meant it then, and I mean it now. I want to follow you everywhere, and if not, I want you to follow me. If you do, I’ll always look back to check that you’re behind me. I just want you close to me, no matter the risks. I don’t want to have to regret anything anymore.” 

Will’s hold on Mike’s neck was featherlight, now, barely there, delicate, almost tender. Mike could nearly pretend that it was really Will as he caressed his best friend with his own trembling hands, tracing soothing circles and little patterns on his palms, willing him to come back to him with his gentle touch and soft voice. He could feel him getting closer to him the more he spoke, as his grip loosened and he almost began to relax against Mike’s body, but his darkened eyes told a different story, vacant and cold. It wasn’t enough yet. But it was working. He just had to keep trying, keep talking. He found it not to be as difficult as he thought it might be, pouring his heart out to the boy he loved. But he had to be more honest. He was still dancing around the one thing he knew he needed to tell him, not out of fear, but because he wanted to know that Will was really listening when he told him. With the small chance that he still reciprocated, that Mike remained to be someone he needed, Mike wanted Will to remember hearing those words. He decided to get a little braver, a little bolder. 

“Do you remember that day in the basement? Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me had just come out and you managed to bribe Murray to sneak it in for you with his ‘groceries’. You were so excited to listen to it, and I was too, but mostly because it meant I got to spend time with you. You were so enthralled by the music, and you were sketching me while we listened. I think I nearly kissed you that night. I think you would’ve let me. I asked you if I could have the drawing of me once it was finished and you were so embarrassed, but the next day, it appeared on my desk, signed ‘love, Will’. It was yet another thing we never spoke about, and I never thanked you. Like with everything, I was too scared, too scared that if I acknowledged it, I’d have to confront a part of me that I was truly afraid of. I’m still terrified, but it’s less scary with you. It always will be.

“I remembered your painting, Will. Do you remember making it? I think it’s beautiful. I always love your art, but I think this one might be my favourite thing you’ve ever made. I didn’t understand it when you first gave it to me because I was too wrapped up in the fact that everything I thought I knew about myself had crumbled away, and I felt guilty and scared and trapped. You told me how El felt when you gave it to me, but I know now that it was you. It was all you, and I’m so sorry I didn’t realise sooner. I think maybe a part of me suspected it, because deep down I knew it wasn’t true, El didn’t need me, but I needed to believe it, and I didn’t think you’d ever lie to me. I wanted to be needed, but not by El. By you. By you. It’s all I want and need. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, or your kindness, or your love, but I’d do anything, Will. Anything you want if it means I get to have you,” he confessed, tears clouding his vision, but it didn’t deter him. He stopped for a moment, not wanting to speak his next words into fruition, but couldn’t let himself avoid it. “But I also know that this- this crush you said you had is something you got over. I mean- I- I’m fairly sure it’s me, given the painting and everything, and I hate the idea that I could’ve missed my chance just because I was too scared to admit to myself what I wanted and who I am. I’m always too late. Don’t let me be too late to have you, Will, please. When you talked about getting over me, you made it seem like I’m just- just some random crush, just a guy you barely knew and who wasn’t really important in the end, just a bridge to getting to where you are now, but I don’t want to be your bridge, I want to be the thing that’s waiting on the other side. I’ll always wait for you, like I know you waited for me all these years. I got here eventually, and I need you to still be there. I need you to still need me like I need you. I’m just like you. I’m-” he paused to take a breath, realising he had barely stopped, just let himself ramble incoherently, messily, spurting out all of his thoughts like a fountain, and he couldn’t help but continue. But he had found himself in a moment where he had to say something aloud that he never had before, something that he had only just allowed himself to think about, let alone use the actual word to tell anybody. He took a breath, his hands sweating from where they still held Will’s, feeling his heart pounding in his chest, sensing the gaze of the many paintings hung around him boring into his head, knowing, seeing, judging; he almost couldn’t say it, almost couldn’t bring himself to confess to his sins whilst enveloped in such holiness, sure that he would not be forgiven by them. But perhaps he would be by Will. Perhaps that was all that mattered. He reminded himself that if Will could say it in front of everyone he held dear to him, Mike could tell just one person, the surrounding righteousness that he could not possibly share be damned. He could tell just the one person that mattered most. “I’m gay, Will. I’m like you. And I’m sorry for not realising sooner, but I’m sure you understand better than anyone why it took me so long. We’ve always understood each other more than other people. We’ve always just clicked in a way that we don’t with others, and we’ve always had that strange ability to know exactly what each other are thinking without even needing to speak. I think we lost ourselves along the way somewhere, and it’s my fault for pushing you away. I resent myself for it deeply, but I know now that I did it out of fear because I love you, Will. I’m in love with you. I always have been. I love you and I can’t lose you again. I always believed in you and you in me more than anybody else, and it’s just always been me and you, together. You inspire me, you make me a better person, and I like who I am when I’m around you, Will, more than when I’m with anyone else. Maybe all of this makes me sound crazy, I don’t know, but we said we’d go crazy together, right? I hope that promise wasn’t broken alongside everything else I ruined with you. Because I swear I meant it and I still mean it. It was always you, for me. It always will be. I’ve always loved you, even before I knew what that meant. I loved you when were kids and I wanted to spend every second of every day with you, and we used to cry when we went home from our playdates even though we’d see each other the next day at school. I loved you when we fell out for a day because you made a friend without me and I got jealous and I was mean to her because I didn’t want anybody else to get to know you in the way that I did. I loved you when we got put in different classes in the second grade and we both cried every day for the first month. I loved you when Jonathan used to cycle over to drop you off at my house when your parents were arguing or your dad was lashing out at one of you — I always used to wrap you in the tightest of hugs and let you cry in my arms for as long as you needed to. I loved you when you showed me Castle Byers for the first time, and we both discovered the exhilarating feeling of freedom. I loved you when we had to hide from bullies at school and we used to reassure each other that they were wrong, that the words they hurled at us weren’t true, and it always made it feel better. I loved you when you went missing and I loved you when I thought you were dead. I loved you when I jumped off a cliff to prove that I was brave, because I thought you were the bravest person in the world, and you’d gone. I loved you the first time I realised I was staring at you and couldn’t bring myself to look away. I loved you when you stared back. I loved you when we promised that the two of us would go crazy together. I loved you when you weren’t even you, when we had to lure the evil out from inside of you, and the idea of losing you was the most terrifying thought in the world. I loved you when I forced myself to push you away because the depths of my feelings were too scary for me to handle, so I had to pretend I didn’t feel anything at all. I loved you when you moved away and I tried to make myself forget about you, but you were all I could think about. I loved you when I saw you for the first time in months and you were all I could see, even when I deeply hated myself for focusing all my attention on you. I loved you when I ruined your fifteenth birthday. I loved you when you told me how you felt in the back of a pizza van, even though I didn’t realise what you were trying to tell me at the time. I loved you when you said that I was your heart, and I loved you when I realised that you’re mine, too. I loved you when I told El that it was her that I loved. I loved you when you lived with me for a year and a half, and I spent most of that time trying not think about the fact that I did. I loved you in the basement, surrounded by music and the feeling of safety that I always get when I’m with you. I loved you on your sixteenth birthday when we cycled out to Lover’s Lake and stayed there long after dark, just talking. I loved you when you first used your powers and I thought you were the most magical person I’d ever laid eyes on; I was just completely transfixed by you, Will, and I still am, always. I loved you when you told us all that you’re gay. I loved you when I relived our entire history and finally allowed myself to understand how I truly feel. I loved you when it hurt inside to and I loved you when I realised that it didn’t have to be painful. I’ve loved you for my whole life, Will, and I need you to know that. I loved you then, like I love you now.

“Please, Will, you mean everything to me, and I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose you, so please, if there’s any part of you in there that can hear me, just fight. Come back to me, please, Will. I love you so much. Loving you is the best thing I’ve ever done. Please, Will,” he begged through choked sobs, his voice laced with desperation and pain, tears streaming from his eyes as he gazed up at Will, who was still not in his body as he stared right through him, not a hint of expression or acknowledgement of Mike and his words, his confession. 

Mike fought bitterly for his fading hope that was slipping away from him, determined not to give up on Will, regardless of how little chance there was that his boy was still in there somewhere. He refused to deem him a lost cause, refused adamantly to stop trying. As long as he was alive, he could be saved, but he was struggling to believe it as each long, drawn-out moment passed with nothing to show. 

Then Will’s hands slowly moved, his fingers dragging along Mike’s neck, and he braced himself for another attack, before he softly closed a loose fist around Mike’s own, holding his hands with such gentleness that he almost believed it was really Will. Almost. Mike didn’t dare draw a breath as he cupped his boy's hands in his own, careful not to squeeze too tightly, but with enough strength that he hoped Will could feel it, could be grounded by it. Will’s hands began to shake, and Mike steadied them with his own, feeling his pulse quicken beneath his fingertips, as his breaths grew heavier, his chest rising and falling in quick succession against Mike’s. 

The chandelier flickered above their heads in Mike’s peripheral, flooding them with light, if only for a few moments, just as Will’s eyes became engulfed with terror and began to dart from side to side, glancing around him in what Mike could only describe as sheer panic, but they were still dark, still wide. 

He wasn’t Will yet. 

But he would be. 

He was beginning to fight, Mike was certain. 

~

“He’s lying to you, William.”

The voice hissed into his ear, slicing through the impenetrable darkness, through the fog eclipsing his vision, an icicle piercing through his chest, puncturing his lungs. He had heard every word. The shadows were deep inside of him. But he had heard. Somewhere, he registered distantly, in his heart, perhaps, it meant something to him. 

The vine wrapped around his neck tightened. 

He squirmed, no longer comforted by its weight, by its hold. He could feel a dull pressure on his palms. It dragged, attempting to pull him away, but to no avail. He felt, all of a sudden, all at once, trapped. Caged. The dissonant whispers of the shadows were no longer music to his ears, no longer charming him like a flute to a snake. 

A different voice was calling him. 

Calling to bring him home. 

Desperate. Warm. Familiar. 

He struggled within the depths of his mind to find its source, but returned empty handed. There was nothing to search for. Nothing to be found. Lifeless. Cold. Unknowing. A desolate blank slate. 

“He cannot offer you what we can. Stop searching for him. You won’t find anything in there, in that sweet little head of yours.”

“Will, please!” a desperate shout sounded, forcing its way through the mist, into his chest. 

A flicker of light. 

He chased it, watching it vanish before he reached it. 

“What was yours is now mine. What was mine is now yours. Your thoughts are mine, your secrets, your desires, your memories. They all belong to me, as mine do to you. We are becoming one, William. There is no use resisting.

“It has already been done.”

Will’s clouded vision darkened further, as he began to feel his heart racing in his chest once again, trying to cling on to a tiny snag in his brain, in his thoughts, anything. 

He was drawing nearer, deeper, dragging him further from himself, but a flash of light beamed amongst the fog once again, accompanied by a strangled cry, which was getting more familiar by the second as he attempted to recall the words spoken to him, attempted to allow them to sink in, as his mind tangled itself in knots. 

He could see through tiny windows into memories, but the glass was fogged, his vision blurred, echoes from the past coming to him distantly, but many not his own. Many he did not recognise. But some he did. 

Those he did shared something in common. They reeked of warmth, and Will felt disgusted, repulsed by the shimmer of yellow light glinting around the edges, glimmers of golden frames bathing them in sunlight, which he hoped would burn them. 

“Yes, William. Destroy them. Fight them. Come to me, to us,” he encouraged, luring him closer as flashes of life fluttered before him, and his mind split open, torn between the two beckoning hands, one clutching ahold of his palm, the sensation growing stronger by the minute, begging for his return, the other a still disembodied voice weaving its path amidst the fog, tempting, but not enough. The surrounding dark clouds threatened to overcast the sunlight still beaming at him from the small windows of light that Will felt a tug towards in his chest, and he reached out to them, not yet choosing them, merely looking, investigating, intrigued. 

“Will! Can you hear me, Will? I can see you, Will, I can see that you’re in there!” called that voice again, as his vision flashed, for just a moment, with the sight of the boy before him, and Will laid eyes on the desperate expression that painted his face, as he begged him to come back to him, the shadows now only in his periphery, providing him with a momentary glimpse of relief. 

He saw him. 

Mike. 

Mike. 

“Yes, Will! That’s it, come back to me! I love you so much, Will, please!”

Will had heard him utter those words already, but this time he grabbed ahold of them before they could escape his grasp, before they could slip away again and fade into the abyss surrounding him. In the darkness, they were a beacon of light, guiding him, leaving a trail of memories in their wake, wisps of reality revealing themselves to him slowly, hints from the past laced through Mike’s words, as Will slowly began to recall their childhood fantasy games, the excruciating hours he spent on his painting, their moments shared in the basement mere months ago. Their fear, but also their joy. Their trepidation, but, most importantly, their love. 

Their love. 

Not just Will’s, but Mike’s, too. 

These flickers of memories were submerged in it; love seemed to seep through the cracks between them, filling every crevice, shining light on every shadowed corner, bursting out in bolts of lightning, electrifying and hot to the touch, whilst gently cascading from their mouths with each word they spoke, woven with comfort, each others’ sanctuary, a safe haven. 

Mike. 

Mike loved him. 

Not even the shadows that loomed over him, that hissed inside of his mind, threatening to overpower him entirely, could block out the sheer force of this revelation once he had truly grasped ahold of it and taken it in the palm of his hand, inspecting it, allowing it to become the truth. 

Mike loved him. 

Will had to make it back to him. 

“Mike-” he whimpered into the darkness, the sound of his own scratchy voice grating, but a relief. He hadn’t lost himself entirely. Though he was slipping. 

It wouldn’t be long, now. 

“Will! I’m here, Will, I’ve got you, just keep fighting, keep going, I love you,” Mike cried, audibly gasping for breath as he merely had to lie before Will and watch him suffer. 

His every word spurred Will on to fight, to bring himself home, to run back to Mike, but the vines began to choke him, caging him in, and the fog grew thicker, forcing its way towards him, into him, deep within him, taking over his body as Will clutched tightly to the tether that was his best friend. Mike. His Mike. 

“He cannot do anything for you, William. I can offer you so much more.”

“You’re nothing!” Will spat, the vine pressing hard against his throat, restricting him, but he spoke at last to the voice for which he still could not find a body. 

“Will?” Mike questioned quietly, the soft confusion in his voice sending shockwaves through Will’s chest. 

“I can offer you a new world, Will. A new world made for you, a world where you wouldn’t have to pretend.”

“I don’t want a new world,” Will whispered. “I just want Mike,” he confessed through a lump rising in his throat, his voice cracking once he reached his name. 

“Will,” Mike breathed, barely audible, but Will would recognise him anywhere. 

“You are nothing to him, William. You know that, deep down,” the voice taunted, but for once, the jab fell flat, and Will felt nothing. 

Mere hours ago, Will would have believed that, had accepted it, or at least, had tried. Had pretended to. It would still keep him awake at night for years to come, he had been certain, but he was beginning to make peace with it. Now, however, Will was sure that it was not true. Mike loved him. Mike loved him exactly how Will wanted to be loved. It was not a thought that crushed him with the weight of his own burning shame, however — no, it could only be thought of as something beautiful. Something to cherish dearly, for as long as he lived. Which, he was now realising, may not be as long as he hoped. He craved just a little more time. Just a moment with Mike would be enough. A moment where he was fully present, fully himself, the cold grip of the fog banished. 

It took everything within him to cling to the flickers of life that he prayed wouldn’t slip through his fingers, every bone in his body aching for him to give in to the darkness, to let it take him, to lose himself entirely, the shadows still circling. 

He revealed himself, then. 

A familiar hand reached towards him, vines twisting up its fingers, weaving their way up to its wrist, snaking up its arm. Henry’s face came into view amongst the mist that shrouded them, as his clawed hand rested upon Will’s cheek, caressing the skin there, in what appeared to be a gentle touch, but made bile rise in his throat and his heart race in his chest, paralysing him with fear that he didn’t dare show. 

“Relax, William. You are home, now.”

The pressure on his palm was all he allowed himself to focus on, that constant tether, connecting him to himself, the real him. As long as he retained that, a part of him believed he could make it home, if only a minuscule fraction of him truly thought it was possible. 

“Not with you. Never with you,” he hissed through gritted teeth, squashing any trace of fear from his eyes as he glared up at the figure looming over him.

“Whatever he’s saying to you, Will, it’s not true. I’ve got you, I promise,” Mike’s soft voice rang through the fog, and Will tried to squeeze his hand, hoping Mike could feel it. He was rewarded with what felt like a gentle press of lips to his fingers, and something fluttered deep inside his chest, pushing away the shadows, if only for a few short moments that seemed to last for an eternity, but it was not long enough. 

“Why retreat in cowardice to a world that can never truly love you, rather than choosing to join me in creating a new world made all for you, William?” Henry stroked his cheek and leaned down towards him, levelling Will’s face with his own. Equals, Will thought distantly. He wasn’t sure if it came from himself or them. 

Will couldn’t reply, not trusting his clouded mind to focus on anything other than his anchor to himself, letting Henry stare through his eyes, and he willed himself to stare back, to appear strong. Henry had called him weak. Mike knew he wasn’t. That was enough. He drew all his attention to the memories just about in his reach, flooding his thoughts with Mike, pulling strength from it as he recalled those blue and yellow swings, fantasy games played late into the night, magic spells and wizards and monsters, holding his best friend’s hand when he was scared, the two of them promising to go crazy together, that feeling of safety he got from nobody else, endless works of art, from childish scribbles to masterpieces, nights listening to music in the basement, shame and caution blanketed by the unstoppable, undeniable sensation of love. 

When it came at last, the light was blinding. 

Its source was unclear, but Will basked in it, feeling weightless, untouchable, seeing at last through the thick fog, the circling shadows no longer beckoning him in with sly hisses. They still spoke, but he didn’t hear it. He didn’t need to. It was not him that they addressed. 

Will saw Mike in flickers, flitting between his body and his consciousness. All he could hear was Mike calling out to him, begging him to fight, to come back to him, to keep going. 

Following Mike’s lead was what Will did best. It always had been. 

Latching onto the love that embraced him, onto his own feelings and Mike’s, he searched until he found it. 

Freedom. Pain. Energy. 

Leeching from the strength of the figure who still stood before him, less threatening, less monstrous in the shimmering light that danced around them, he drank in all that he could, and then some more, tugging, thieving, feeding, until he felt it deep inside his bones, his body trembling with the effort, not with fear, but with a power that dripped from him. 

The vines once trapping him, pinning him to the wall, were torn from his body as he lunged towards the figure, towards Henry, who did not look afraid, but proud. Will felt disgusted. 

Will gathered all the strength within him, forcing his arms out, sending Henry flying backwards, throwing him into the darkness beyond his sight, tumbling through the air, his own screams ringing in his ears, his tensed fingers aching, straining, his arms shaking with energy, feeling the slam of Henry’s back against a wall as if it were his own, but he was not deterred. 

The shadows that still burrowed into his skin, deep in his chest, were frantic with the insistent desire to stay, and he trained all of his focus on ridding himself of his confinements, of the desperate world worming its way inside him, preferring to tear himself to shreds than be buried with that world still trapped within his bones. He refused to let his bones be all he had left of himself, all he consisted of, repulsed by the idea of being merely a vessel, a cage in search of a dying bird. 

A shrill, piercing yell echoed from the walls, reverberating around him, cacophonous and discordant, before Will realised that it was his own, as his body struggled to withstand the exertion it took to force the shadows out from within him. Mere wisps of pale smoke floated from his mouth, like seeing his breath on a chilly morning, the darkness still buried inside, roots taking hold, growing in his chest, taking his body from him, bit by bit. 

Henry marched back into view, not a scrape on his mangled body from the force at which Will tossed him through the air, and Will screwed his eyes shut, his energy tuned into the mess inside of him, blocking out his surroundings, his concentration focused, his fists clenched. 

The closer Henry walked, the more Will shook with energy, edging nearer to Henry’s consciousness, to his mind, seeing flashes of memories that he did not recognise but felt strangely connected to. A cave. A stage curtain, fluttering. A girl with dark hair, dressed in blue. The shameful sensation of a mistake. The exhilarating understanding of a miracle. The intoxicating thrill of a first kiss. 

His vision began to fluctuate back and forth again, from the dark depths of his eyelids to the view Henry was witnessing; Will watched himself struggle through the eyes of his tormentor, seeing the trembling mess that he truly was. Blood poured from his nostrils, and he started to scream again, agonising and deafening, as he willed the shadows out, with little to show for it. He slowed with the effort, staggering to one side as he tried to swallow Henry’s power. 

“You’re still weak, William, but I could help you grow stronger,” Henry taunted. 

Will watched himself as if facing a mirror, seeing a tear slip from his eye, dribbling down his cheek pathetically. He whimpered, a dying animal, ready to be put out of his misery. 

“Will, no, no, no, don’t give in, not now, not yet, keep going, Will, please, you can’t give up now,” Mike’s frantic screams sounded all around him, and Will had no choice but to continue. He had to fight. For himself. For Mike. He had to fight. 

“I know you can do it, Will, I know you can! Your power’s innate, remember? You’re magical, truly inherently magical, and I wholeheartedly believe that! Just hang on a little while longer, you can do it, please, I love you more than anything, Will!”

Mike’s panicked words enough to spur him back into action, anchoring him, the grounding pressure of Mike’s hands in his ever-growing, Will’s quietened snivels rose again from a whine to almost a howl, standing straight once more, facing the man before him, taking, taking, taking, the energy within him bubbling to the surface as he snatched it into his grasp, holding it in his fists with a gentle but firm grip, watching himself in flickers, as rivulets of scarlet cascaded from his eyes, pouring down his cheeks, escaping the tangled wreckage that was his body, mixing with his tears. Will could taste both, the tang of iron and salt mingling on his tongue. With his stolen power swelling by the second as he ripped away more and more of it for himself, yanking it away from its owner, dragging it towards him, Will hurled Henry to one side with a mere flick of his wrist, barely moving with how little effort it took, but he felt the violent spin with which Henry flew, almost falling alongside him with the sensation of his spine cracking against the wall, dizzying as his head collided with the stone with brute force. He wasn’t sure if the surprise he felt was his own or Henry’s. Perhaps it was both. 

With his newfound strength and all his attention on the pure, shameless love he felt deep inside his chest, which brightened the room with every passing moment, he reached out for all the power that danced anxiously, impatiently within him, taking it in the palms of his hands, grabbing relentlessly. Electricity surged, bursting from him as he yelled, trembling, feeling the blood dripping from his cheeks, his vision red and blurred, he held tight to the energy within him, alongside his shame, his suffering, his agony, his mistakes, his fears, and unclenched his fists, pouring it out with all the force he could muster, letting go entirely, draining himself of the hijacked power that rested within him, and sending the shadows with it. The thick clouds that had been swarming him were blown away, fog spilling from his mouth, his ears, his nose, circling him, round and round, unwilling to give him up, before he sent them, too, flying from his sight, far away from him, until he could sense them no more. 

Will stood for just a moment, breathing heavily, dark spots blocking his sight, but he had never seen truth, seen himself, so clearly. He swayed in place, before collapsing forwards onto his knees, steadying himself with his hands. His eyes flickered, blinking hard and fast as he felt the world spin around him, before it faded slowly, falling, sucked into a never ending black hole, until there was nothing. Nothing but the thick darkness that shrouded him. He embraced it like an old friend, allowing it to envelope him entirely. 

~

Will awoke to the sound of muffled sobs and a sensation on the back of his neck. He leaned into the feeling, the touch, its gentle caressing offering a comfort that he had never before experienced, not there, nor anywhere else on his body. 

His eyes ached with the effort it took to open them, but when he did so, the sight before him was enough for him to force himself to keep them wide. He was being cradled, an arm wrapping around him, coming to rest on his back, and a hand on his neck, holding his head up, a mop of curly black hair buried in his chest, shaking, wailing. 

The occasional devastated plea, or sometimes Will’s name slipped out between the cries, and his chest felt like it was going to collapse in on itself. 

“Mike?” Will whispered, barely audible amongst Mike’s sorrow, but Mike’s head shot up in an instant, a mixture of shock and relief painting his face, eyes wide, and mouth pulled into a disbelieving smile, as he breathed out Will’s name like it was something sacred. Perhaps it was, to him. 

“Will,” Mike repeated, just staring at him, dumbstruck, eyes darting to and from every part of Will’s face, breathing deeply. “You’re- you- you did it!”

Will nodded, summoning what little energy he had left to attempt to form a coherent thought. He leaned his body further into Mike for support, letting himself be held, not having the emotional strength to question his own actions, or worry about how Mike could react. 

“Are you okay?” he asked him, in that voice reserved only for Will, that tone that made his heart soar and butterflies do somersaults in his stomach. His thumb was tracing the back of his neck, and it took everything inside of him not to shudder, to keep his breathing under control. 

“I-” Will started, but realised he didn’t know how to answer. Was he okay? Physically, he supposed he was aching to his very bones and utterly exhausted, but surprisingly unharmed. Mentally, also almost drained of energy, but decidedly less okay, knowing that the flashes of memories would plague his dreams for years to come. “I will be,” was what he settled on, which Mike seemed reluctantly acceptant of. 

“I thought I lost you,” Mike breathed, staring at him with such reverence, such disbelief, that Will felt his heart skip a beat. 

“I’m still here, Mike.”

“What happened?”

“Later. I’ll tell you later,” Will mumbled, not wanting to even think about anything that had occurred in the last few hours — not that he even had any idea of how long he had been trapped. For all he knew, it could have been days. 

He wanted to remember nothing. Except- 

Except one thing. 

Mike nodded, “Of course, Will, of course. And if you never ever want to tell me, that’s okay, too.”

“I will. Just not now.”

“Okay. Okay. Wait- can I- I want to-” he tried to say, struggling against something locked deep inside his mind, before pulling Will close to him, wrapping both arms firmly around him, a hand coming up to tangle his fingers in Will’s hair, Will’s head pressed close into Mike’s neck, shutting his eyes as he inhaled that familiar scent, clinging to Mike’s jumper, their heavy breaths coming and going in synchrony, the beats of their hearts harmonising in their chests. Neither had any idea how long they stayed there, entwined in each other, basking in each others’ warmth, safety, and both boys refused to let go, gripping to each other for dear life. 

“I was so scared, Will,” Mike murmured into Will’s hair. 

“Me too,” Will replied, feeling the way that Mike shivered and leaned closer when his lips lightly brushed his neck with the movement. 

“I can’t lose you, Will, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You didn’t lose me, Mike. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here,” Will’s voice cracked as he confessed to things he never believed he would say out loud. 

Will held him tighter, closer, pressing a featherlight kiss to the skin between Mike’s neck and shoulder in a moment of bravery he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to replicate. Mike inhaled sharply, pressing his face further into Will’s hair, and he was sure he could feel both of their hearts racing at a hundred miles a minute. 

“Did you hear what I said? Earlier?” Mike asked in a small voice, not bothering to disguise his nerves as he tapped a finger against Will’s back, rhythm askew. 

Will pulled back to look up at Mike, meeting his eyes, an intense moment passing between them, the tension thick and palpable, before he nodded, “yeah. I did.”

“I meant every word,” Mike said — then, as an afterthought, just to make sure, “you definitely heard all of it?”

“Definitely,” Will confirmed. “It wouldn’t hurt to hear it again, though,” he added shyly, but didn’t avert his gaze, keeping his eyes trained on Mike, who didn’t dream of looking away. 

“Which part?” 

“Just the most important bit,” Will smiled, hardly daring to believe what he was about to hear, what he had already heard. Mike’s touch was enough to send his mind into a tangled frenzy, his messy thoughts incoherent and twisty, looping their way through his brain with one singular word. One singular name. 

Mike let out a little laugh, and ducked his head for a moment, catching a second to breathe. Will didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful sight as his curls fell across his forehead, almost brushing his eyes, which had a shine to them that Will had never seen before but didn’t want to ever look away from. He stared at the smile tugging at his lips and realised with a swoop in his chest that he had never wanted to kiss him more than he did in this moment, and the thought, the epiphany, that Mike probably felt the same, hit him at full force, his heart stuttering. 

Mike looked back up again at Will, who’s gaze hadn’t left him for even a second, and locked eyes with him gently, before speaking. “I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too,” came out of Will’s mouth before he had even registered what he was going to say. “I always have been. I don’t want to ever stop loving you.”

Mike beamed at him, looking more elated than Will had seen him for as long as he could remember. Will was sure he looked the same by the way his cheeks began to ache from his own smile. 

“Yeah?” Mike asked. 

“Yeah,” Will nodded. 

“What about earlier? You said you got over me- him- whoever it was. That it was never about him,” Mike stumbled over his words, anxiety taking over again, just for a moment or two. 

“I don’t- that wasn’t me. Well, it was, sort of. Vecna and I have been more… connected, recently. His thoughts and memories have been bleeding into mine, and mine into his, and he made me forget all about you. I think he knew you could help me escape him, help me not give in. So, he pulled me away from you, but he couldn’t fully take away my feelings, so I think maybe I interpreted it wrong because my thoughts were all a jumbled mess, and I knew you were important to me in some way, but it didn’t feel like you were in that moment because he was dragging you out of my mind. I don’t know what was real and what wasn’t. What was him and what was me,” Will began trying to explain, before quickly starting to spiral, reminded cruelly of Henry’s torment, his own uncertainty taking over. If he hadn’t been able to decipher reality before, unable to tell where Henry’s mind ended and his own began, what was to say that any of this was real? That Mike was really here, telling him everything he had ever wanted to hear and more, so much more. His breath caught in his throat and he lost it, couldn’t find it again, trapping it in his chest, inescapable, growing dizzy from panic, from the disorientation of his own idea of reality, his own tether to himself. It became overwhelming all of a sudden, the fear of his thoughts, his memories, not being his own, his sense of self becoming skewed, being tampered with, wholly out of his control. 

“Hey, hey, Will, breathe, it’s okay,” Mike spoke gently, softly, cupping his cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb up and down against his skin, not deterred by the blood on Will’s face now soaking his hand, soothing him slowly, bringing him back to himself. “Deep breaths, that’s it,” he encouraged. 

“Mike-” Will choked out. 

“I’m here, Will. I’m real, this is real, I’ve got you,” Mike reassured him, pulling him impossibly closer as Will’s breaths started to even out and the world before him — Mike — began to come back into focus. 

“Sorry-” but Mike was cutting Will off before he could even finish his word with a shake of his head. 

“No, Will, you don’t have anything to be sorry for, it’s okay,” Mike told him delicately, still stroking his cheek, not taking his eyes away from Will’s face. “I’m real. So are you. All of this is real. I love you, and that will always be real, Will.”

Will sniffed, but said nothing, content to just look for a minute, an atmosphere of understanding surrounding them, both satisfied with the silence that engulfed them in a warm embrace, allowing them to just sit, their thoughts clear as day on each of their faces as calmness started to fall upon them both. Busy in a daydream that he was almost certain was soon to come true, Will’s eyes drifted down from Mike’s face — his lips, if he was to be really honest with himself — his vision locking abruptly on something he hadn’t noticed before, the darkness of the room casting shadows upon the two of them, hiding it from Will’s view. There were several purple bruises dotting across Mike’s neck, fresh and angry, and they were, upon closer inspection, in the shape of hands. Long, delicate fingers. Familiar. Too familiar.  

“Mike, your neck,” he breathed, reaching out to trace the bruises with his fingers. Mike leaned into the touch, allowing Will to press his palm there gently, a tender touch, so as not to hurt him. “What happened?”

“Oh- I- nothing,” Mike looked away, flushing a bright shade of red, his eyebrows knitted together, not elaborating further, his lips pursing. 

“What do you mean, nothing? It looks like you’ve been strangled, Mike,” Will gaped incredulously, frowning, hurt by Mike’s obvious lie, but refused to show it. 

“I- it’s fine,” Mike brushed it off, but Will was having none of it, intent on finding out who had harmed him, and why, not to mention why Mike was adamant that he wasn’t going to give it up easily. 

His mind racing, a pit opened up, growing steadily in his stomach, protective and distraught, remnants of another consciousness, scattered remains of an invasion, rubble discarded within him, though he was sure it was influenced by his own aching feelings. He was reminded harshly of becoming overpowered, of the foreign urge to hurt, an alien bloodlust that he had no control over, clawing deep within him, mauling his true self, lacerating the part of him still present that begged to stop, to battle against it, until he let it win. The suffering had dug into his very bones. He hadn’t prevented it. Betrayal. Hurt. Fear. 

It hit him, then. 

It was him. It was Will. 

Will had taken the love of his life in his own hands, and nearly stolen the light from his eyes, the heartbeat from his chest, the breath from his lungs. 

He had taken the thing most dear to him, the person who held him the most gently, who wanted him in the most tender way possible, and had committed a betrayal so disgraceful that he wasn’t sure he could bear to live with himself. 

And yet, Mike had still told him that he loved him, and continued to treat him as though he were the most precious treasure he could ever hope to unearth. 

“Mike- Mike, did I do that?” he asked, a lump rising in his throat, incapable of tearing his eyes away from the boy in front of him, his bruised neck, the devastation in his eyes. 

“What?” Mike asked, playing dumb, but they were never very good at lying to each other. They only did it when they felt they had to, either to protect each other, or occasionally themselves. Will understood why Mike wanted to lie, but it only caused his heart to shatter in his chest. 

“Mike, just tell me, please,” he said, barely a whisper, not sure he wanted to hear his answer, but begging for it anyway, knowing he didn’t deserve anything Mike could ever give him, except for this. The guilt. The shame. The truth. 

“Will, it wasn’t you. I swear it, I know you. I know you, Will, and I know you would never do anything like that to anyone, let alone to me. I know you wouldn’t. It wasn’t your fault. You were possessed, okay? It wasn’t you who strangled me, it was Vecna, he just used your body to do it. It wasn’t you. I promise,” Mike assured him, rambling, but Will was shaking his head, refusing to accept Mike’s forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any of it. 

“But it was me,” Will murmured, small and pathetic, still letting himself be cradled by Mike, not strong enough to walk away, still taking everything he could get. 

“No, Will. No, it wasn’t. I know you better than I know myself. You’re the kindest, sweetest, most gentle person I know. You would never hurt me, or anybody, like that. Never. You weren’t in there at all, when that happened, Will. I could see it in your eyes. They were empty, vacant. There was no trace of the real you.”

“It was my body,” he whispered, unable to stop the waves of guilt from crashing over his head, drowning him. 

“I don’t care. It wasn’t your consciousness. That’s what counts, okay?”

“If you hadn’t come to find me, then it never would have happened,” Will sniffed, not meeting Mike’s eye. 

“Will, I’d die saving you a hundred times over, okay? This is hardly a scratch compared to what I’d go through for you,” he told him earnestly, unwavering love weaved into his tone. 

“I don’t want you to die for me,” he whispered, looking up to meet his eye, then, welling up at the mere thought.

“And I didn’t have to. If I had, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But I didn’t have to. You saved me and yourself, okay?” 

“I still hurt you,” Will whimpered, a tear slipping down his cheek, carrying all the weight of his remorse in a single droplet. 

“No,” Mike shook his head, clutching his face in both of his hands, staring at him with so much intensity that Will almost wanted to look away. Almost. “Nothing you do could ever hurt me, Will. Nothing,” Mike breathed. 

Will let out a pitiful whine. He leaned into Mike’s touch, finding the familiar comfort in spite of his own moral failing, on the brink of taking Mike’s word, nearly allowing himself to be absolved, but not quite. 

“Weren’t you scared?” Will asked, fearing the answer, but needing to know the truth. 

“No,” Mike told him without even a moment of hesitation, or a glimpse of dishonesty. “It was you. How could I possibly be scared of you? You looked beautiful, even when you were hardly in there at all.” 

A soft breathy whisper of Mike’s name was all Will could respond with, Mike’s words rendering his thoughts useless, turned to nothing but a giddy scream. 

“I’m not afraid of this anymore, Will. Not if you’re not,” he paused, then — “can I kiss you?” Mike asked suddenly, or perhaps it wasn’t sudden. Perhaps Mike was always going to ask that. It was merely a matter of when. 

Will blinked. Once. Twice. 

Mike looked completely sincere, gazing at him as if he never wanted to look away, glancing at his lips, then back up to meet his eyes again, his own eyes filled with affection and want. 

Will had never yearned for anything more. He ached to say yes, to give him his word and close what little space was between them, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the fear that he had hurt him, no matter how out of control he had been. There was a part of him still in shock that it was something that Mike wanted, after everything he had done. The hurt he had caused. Not to mention the disbelief he felt at the idea of Mike wanting this at all, regardless of Will’s unforgivable actions. He had been so certain that he would never get this, not with Mike, nor anybody. He was still learning to come to terms with himself, to be okay with himself, and the first part of that process had been understanding that the love and acceptance had to come from within him, not from somebody else. He had accepted that Mike would never love him back, that Mike couldn’t because he wasn’t like Will. He wasn’t different. He wasn’t gay. But now, here he was, holding him in his arms, begging for a kiss, and telling him that he loved him more than anything. He wanted to believe it. He needed for it to be true. But he just couldn’t let himself be convinced.  

“Are you sure?” Will questioned, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on Mike’s jumper, nervous, uncertain. 

“I’ve never been so sure of what I want in my entire life, Will. I’ve never needed anything more than this. I don’t care that Vecna used you to try and hurt me, okay? I don’t care. It wasn’t the real you. This is the real you. This is the you that I love with my whole heart,” Mike said, clinging to him, getting closer to him with each word he spoke until their noses were almost touching. 

“Mike,” was all Will could say, before he leaned up towards him and pressed their lips together, finally, at last, hearts soaring in their chests at the gentle brush of lips, light and barely there, but Will was suddenly drenched in Mike’s warmth, in the feeling that nothing had ever been so right, so perfect, so real. 

Will pulled back, opening his eyes to stare at Mike, who had a blush crawling up his cheeks and a smile tugging at his lips, which he wet slightly with his tongue. He glanced back down at Will’s mouth, asking permission with just his eyes, and Will’s tiny nod was all he needed before he tugged Will up to meet him halfway, in more than a mere gentle brush of lips this time, catching Will’s bottom lip between his own in a bruising kiss, deep and electrifying. In the chilly room, Will felt nothing but the heat radiating from Mike’s body surrounding him, and he was dizzy with it as he was kissed, and kissed back, with an eagerness that Will had never before felt. The chandeliers above them began to buzz and fizz, before brightening the room, bathing them in light, casting halos around their heads, matching those of the paintings that stared down at the scene before them, but Will didn’t feel their judgemental gaze upon him and Mike, feeling positively saintly as he allowed himself to have and take the one thing he had always craved. It wasn’t a sin, he realised there and then, because how could anything so perfect, so achingly good be so treacherous?

Will gasped, feeling Mike’s tongue run along his mouth, lips parting just enough to grant him access, his thoughts turning to nothing but a string of Mike’s name. He heard himself murmur it quietly, needily, almost a whine into his mouth and he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed by it when Mike let out a breathy response, calling out Will’s name with just as much want. With just as much desire, their shame nowhere to be found, lost on the other side, separating time distinctly into before and after this moment, Will feeling like his entire life had been building to finally, finally kissing Mike, feeling like his life had only just started. It was something that Will had imagined more times than he would care to admit, but no dream could compare to the reality, as Mike cupped his face in his hands and let out the occasional sigh, making it known to Will that he wanted, needed, this just as badly. The taste of iron was thick on his tongue from the blood that still decorated his face, but it was overpowered by a taste so distinctly Mike that it made his head spin. When Mike bit his lip, Will’s hands, tangled in Mike’s hair, gave a sharp tug in response, their mouths swallowing the noises they elicited from each other. The blood that had shone on Will’s cheeks, glistening in the faint sliver of moonlight as it trickled down his neck, was everywhere, Mike’s wandering hands coating Will’s jumper in scarlet, alongside the strip of skin where it had ridden up above his trousers, Mike not being able to stop himself from grabbing at his waist, or perhaps simply choosing not to resist the urge, the temptation. He felt utterly depraved as Mike turned Will’s blood into a deep crimson paint, Will’s body into Mike’s own work of art, his own canvas on which to create, in an unspoken act of gratitude for having been Will’s muse for as long as they had known one another. 

Will tried to break away, gasping for air, panting heavily as Mike chased his lips, pulling him in for another chaste kiss before letting them part with thinly veiled reluctance and unhidden, unabashed desire as he stared at Will as if he were the most divine thing he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. Will didn’t feel intimidated by his gaze, instead feeling, for the first time in his life, wanted. Needed. Perhaps, beautiful. He didn’t feel like he was sinning, committing a crime he ought to keep to his chest forever, when he looked back at Mike, knowing that his face must have conveyed exactly what Mike’s did, and relishing in their mutual understanding, their acceptance of each others’ and their own feelings. It had never been clearer to Will how Mike felt, not a sliver of doubt in his mind that they were on the same page, that whatever was going to come next was going to be something that they would face together. 

“Will,” Mike breathed, a grin spreading onto his face as he cupped Will’s jaw and let himself stare. 

Will could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks as he uttered Mike’s name and allowed himself to look back, to drink in the sight before him, a hand still resting in Mike’s hair, playing with it gently between his fingers, fiddling not with nerves but with the knowledge that he could do that, now. That Mike liked it. That Mike wanted it. 

“Are you okay?” Mike asked, ever the worrier, ever the protector. Ever the Paladin. His Paladin, Will realised with a blush. 

Will nodded, “more than okay.”

“Me too,” Mike replied, planting a gentle kiss on Will’s cheek, adding more blood to his already scarlet lips. He paused, eyes flicking downwards for a moment, before leaning back in to kiss the mole that sat above Will’s lip, only then pulling away again, satisfied. 

Will could do nothing except stare in awe, and Mike didn’t seem to be fairing any better, as they watched each other with pounding hearts that were more full than they ever had been, and Will suddenly felt the inexplicable urge to tell him this. 

“I love you,” he told him again, in a whisper, not out of a desire for secrecy, but because it felt like swearing an oath, a vow, the sheer intensity of the feeling in his chest rendering him almost speechless. He knew this was an oath that Mike, too, would swear to, and one he would not break. 

“I love you, too,” Mike grinned, with not a glimpse of hesitation or uncertainty in his voice — a promise. 

Will untangled his hands from Mike’s hair, dragging them along the back of his neck and round to where the bruises from Will’s hands were blooming, vibrant purple brandishing his pale skin. He outlined the marks with his fingers, in control this time, delicate and tender, careful not to push down on them and damage him further. Though Will got the impression that if he wanted to, Mike would let him. The thought didn’t make guilt bubble up in his chest, instead making butterflies swarm in his stomach. He leant upwards, tilting his head just right, resting his face in Mike’s neck, pressing his lips to a bruise crafted by his own thumb, leaving the faintest stain of blood behind in his wake, adding red hues to the purple decorating his skin, the bruises themselves like kisses. 

“Will- what are you doing?” Mike asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as Will didn’t pull back, instead just burrowing closer. 

“I hurt you,” Will started, covering Mike’s lips with his hand the moment he began to protest, “I hurt you, so I’m kissing you better,” he told him simply, as if it were obvious, before pressing a second kiss to a different bruise, and then a third, and then they both lost count, as Will covered Mike in a blanket of kisses, blood, and boundless love, a thousand unspoken words exchanged between them. Will still felt a desperate remorse for what he had done, consciously or otherwise, but as Mike allowed him to absolve himself, rid himself of the guilt for a sin he had not committed, he felt it slipping away slowly, never entirely, never wholly, but it no longer sank, anchoring him to it, chaining him to his betrayal. It mattered less when Mike had a hand in his hair and the other on his waist, beneath his jumper, dragging his thumb up and down, and he had Mike’s skin under his lips, eliciting the occasional throaty gasp or whisper of his name that only spurred him on further. It was gentle and innocent, yet Will felt his entire body go up in flames, heat radiating from Mike, too, as he poured out all the love inside of him, finding an infinite supply, needing nothing more than to give it all to the boy who held him and pulled him impossibly closer, no doubt in Will’s mind, for the first time in years, that he felt exactly the same.  

Will felt less hidden than he ever had, and he had thought that it would be like putting himself through hell, allowing somebody to see every part of him, to know him in the way he ought to be known, but with Mike, nothing had ever felt so right. This was how it was supposed to be. There was not a trace of fear in his gaze as he looked at the boy before him who he had loved for longer than he had known what it meant to do so and felt, finally, at peace. Serenity fell upon them amidst the destruction that lurked in the shadows, and he knew that their current safety was temporary, but the sanctuary they found again in one another was here to stay. 

“Mike, are you two okay? You’ve been gone ages, we’re getting worried,” sounded a voice from inside Mike’s backpack, slightly muffled, but clearly his sister. 

Mike groaned, rolling his eyes, before pulling away from Will to answer, but not before checking that he was okay to sit by himself without help — he was, though he had been enjoying having to lean on Mike for support nonetheless. 

“Nancy, we’re fine, just give us a few minutes,” Mike sighed — though Will knew he was grateful really — before shooting a grin at Will. 

“What happened with Will? Is he okay?” Jonathan asked, voice thick with anxiety. 

Mike offered the walkie talkie to Will, who smiled gratefully, taking it from him, the tips of their fingers brushing, both feeling the spark, the rush of electricity they always felt whenever they touched, but this time it wasn’t charged with uncertainty, but a definitive sense of understanding. Of trust. 

“Hey, I’m okay,” Will replied, voice small, hating the fact that his brother was worried about him, but he knew it was inevitable. “Is everyone else alright? Where are you all?” 

“Nance and I are waiting outside in the car for you and we’ll drive you back when you’re ready. Everyone else is back at the Squawk and Mom’s worried sick. Can I let her know you’re alright?” 

“Yeah, you can. Thanks. We’ll be out soon.”

“Take as much time as you need. You sure you’re okay? Mike was pretty freaked out earlier,” Jonathan said, and Mike sent a glare in the direction of the walkie talkie still in Will’s hand. Though he hated the idea of others being worried about him, the thought of Mike being frantic about saving his life made his heart soar in his chest, and he shot him a look that both mocked him for caring so deeply about him, but that confessed all the love and gratitude he felt in merely a glance. 

“I’m fine, now,” he told his brother, and it didn’t feel like as much of a lie as it may have done earlier, though he knew deep down it wasn’t yet his reality. "I’ll explain later.”

“Okay. See you soon?”

“Yeah. See you,” Will said, before handing it back to Mike, who stuffed it, alongside his walkman and headphones, into his bag. “Wait-” he gasped as he remembered. 

“Yeah?” Mike asked, looking up suddenly at Will’s abruptness. 

“I believe that’s mine,” he said, pointing at the walkman with almost a smirk, a sly smile creeping up onto his reddening face, which was no match for Mike’s crimson cheeks as he realised what Will was referring to, “and that,” he added, gesturing to the letter which lay discarded on the tiles. 

“Yeah, I- yeah. You heard all that?” he asked, taking out the tape. 

“I told you I did. Every word, remember?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Here,” he said, holding out both the tape and the letter to Will, who took them and immediately opened up the letter to read the words he had already heard, just to check they were real. Just to check he had heard correctly. And he had. It was everything he needed. 

“When did you make this?”

“Ages ago. It was in a pocket of my bag that I never go in because I wanted to make sure you didn’t find it. But then I suppose half of my memories got taken from me, and that went with it. I’m sorry. I wish I’d got to give it to you under better circumstances.”

“Mike, you saved my life with it. You don’t have anything to apologise for. It’s perfect. Thank you, Mike, really,” Will smiled softly, before shuffling closer to him again to pull him into a hug. The angle was awkward, but neither cared as they looped their arms around each other, content to just be so close. Mike placed a kiss in Will’s hair, and Will had never been so at home. 

“What are we gonna tell everyone when they ask what happened?” Will questioned, a hand fiddling with Mike’s hair, Will noticing that he was beginning to find it making its own way there increasingly often without him even realising. 

“That you used your insane powers again to save the day again?” Mike said as if it were obvious. 

“That’s not what I- I didn’t save the day,” Will shrugged. 

“You saved yourself. You saved me. I think that counts,” Mike argued, speaking gently, encouraging him in a tone that made Will’s heart melt. 

“But it’s not like I killed him or anything. I can’t do that on my own. We need El. Kali, probably. Maybe even all of you. I’ll still be a target. I’m still connected to him. Nothing’s changed.”

“Will, everything’s changed.”

“Not like-” he sighed, “you know what I mean. In terms of Vecna, nothing has changed.” 

“Will, nobody’s going to be expecting you to turn back up at the Squawk having murdered Vecna. That would be ridiculous, and of course you’ll need help to do it. We’ll do it together, yeah? Like we promised?” 

Will huffed heavily, not replying straight away. “I suppose. I just feel like I could’ve done more. I got myself out and ran.”

“Will, look at me,” Mike said, tilting Will’s face up to meet his eyes. “All you could do was save yourself. If you had tried to do any more than that you might not even be sitting here in front of me right now, okay? You did what you could, and you did what you had to do to save yourself, and that’s the most important thing. I’m so insanely proud of you and impressed by you that it’s actually driving me crazy, Will. What you did was incredible.”

“Mike, you don’t even know what I did. I haven’t told you what happened yet,” Will reminded him, but Mike just shook his head. 

“I know already that what you did was amazing. However you did it, you broke yourself out of your own possession, Will. You’re magic,” he reassured him. 

“You broke me out of possession, Mike. I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Okay, sure, I helped, but you still fought him off, Will. That’s undeniably incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, pulling him in again, kissing the top of his head, burying his face in his hair.  

“I love you so much, Will.”

“I love you, too, Mike,” Will smiled, leaning up to pull him down into a kiss, cupping his neck, a hand in his hair, still overwhelmed at the thought, the knowledge that he could do that now, whenever he wanted. 

The world had not ended yet, but soon it might. They had not yet won. Evil still lurked on the precipice of their lives, threatening to jump, bringing them spiralling down with it. Destruction was still burrowing its way into their skin, crawling through their veins as they risked everything they had to beat it, to confront it head on. They were both merely acutely aware of this as they allowed themselves to exist for a few infinite moments in their own bubble, their own microcosm of love, where their fear, their shame, their despair was locked out, banished for a short time, creating their own heaven within the hell in which their lives were trapped.

At last, Will knew what it had all been for. There were still conversations to be had, apologies to be made, forgiveness to be dealt out in time; these words remained in the air, unspoken for now, a silent agreement to save that for another day, to let them sit for now, to bask in each others’ light and hold past memories dearly, appreciating the love that they held.