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“Will?” Mike whispers. “What—” he trails off. Dustin and the others are shouting over the walkie, all their voices overlapping in panic, but Mike’s only listening to Will.
“Use it on me.”
Will shifts on his knees, his grip on Mike’s arm tightening like he knows Mike is dying to run. He places the knife into Mike’s hand.
“At the military zone, I felt like I was burning when they hurt it. It has to work the other way around, right? It’s a hivemind. If you hurt me, it should weaken all of them.”
Or: in a moment of panic, Will convinces Mike to hurt him to save the Party. In another moment of panic, Mike kisses him to keep him conscious.
Bookmarked by dunphee
16 Dec 2025
