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The first time he felt it, he was lying on his back. The fresh, green leaves of grass poking his arms and fingertips. He had his eyes closed and felt the warmth of the sun on his skin. He heard his friends' voices in the back, mixed in with other blissful summer sounds; some people playing ball, splashes of water, laughter. He breathed in the air and scent of someone grilling far away from them, but right now it felt close. Then he felt something else and heard some heavy breathing, disturbed by a laugh and wet footsteps on the soft ground. When Mike landed down next to him heavily, Will didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to spoil the moment, so he just lay quiet, hoping his friend would think he was asleep.
Then Mike whispered his name. It mingled perfectly with the other sounds around him, it felt warm, so familiar and yet strange. Will felt tingles down his spine. And then he opened his eyes. It took a while for them to adjust to the blinding light of the sun, but his pupils dilated as soon as they found his friends' face. His eyes as wide as his grin, his breathing still going heavy and his dark hair hanging in wet strands down in his red flushed face. That's when he first felt it.
The next time, he remembers, happened after a sleepover. He had awakened to an empty room, watching the dust sway in the morning sun that came through the blinds, landing on his face. At first, he lay there, still, taking his time to wake up, before he heard sounds coming from the upstairs. He slowly realized that it was his best friends' voice, off-tune and off-sync with the radio. When he entered the kitchen, Mike did not notice him, his attention was obtained by the frying pan in front of him. He was making some scrambled eggs.
Will allowed himself a moment to take it all in. The sound off Mikes' voice, singing off and on with the song that was playing on the radio, the awkwardness of his movements, when he jerked his lanky hips from left to right in his strange way of dancing, holding onto the frying pan as he tried to concentrate at his task of cooking. Will smiled to himself, closed his eyes for a brief moment to inhale the scent of breakfast and then he felt it again. His chest tightened, but not in a bad way. It was buzzing through him. He was desperate to feel more of it. "Mike!"
Will was shaking. He probably had never been so afraid in his life. No, not even in the Upside-Down. They said she had collapsed at work and they had brought her right to the hospital. They hadn't called him, though. Did they even know, she still had a son, waiting for her at home? They must have known. When Hopper parked his car in the driveway, frantically exiting it and sprinting to the front door, Will immediately knew something bad had happened.
He felt panic wash over him like a wave. He was all alone! Jonathan was in New York and now something bad had happened and he was all alone.
Hopper tried to calm him down on the way to the hospital and continued to try, once they had arrived in the waiting room, but it was no use. His mom wasn't alright, and Will couldn't stop himself from crying bitterly.
Eventually, Hopper sat down next to him, caressing his back, asking if there was anything he could do for Will. "Can you call Mike, please?"
The moment his best friend walked through the hospital doors, completely distraught searching the room, looking for Will, relieve overcame him.
It was going to be okay.
When he jerked out of his sleep, he couldn't make out where he was at first. He was covered in cold sweat and shivered, his eyes darting through the dark room, trying to sort out the situation. Was he still with the Mindflayer? Was he in the hospital? Then Mikes' hand brushed over Wills' lower back and he immediately relaxed. No, he was safe. He was home. "Come here!", Mike whispered, as Will lowered himself into a warm embrace, that seemed to lift the weight right off his chest.
"I'm here." Mike placed a soft kiss on Wills sweaty forehead, grazed his back and whispered sweet nothings into his ear. His mouth slowly moved further down Wills' face, kissing his eyebrows, his nose, his eyelids and finally his mouth. When they parted, they both just stared at each other in the dark. Wills' eyes had adjusted, and he could make out the soft contours of Mikes' face. He reached out to touch his hair, then his face. He couldn't say anything. Mike leaned forward again, kissing him, reassuring him. Will couldn't think of anything except the softness of Mikes' lips.
"Do you feel it?"
Mikes' voice was nothing more than a whisper.
Will took a deep breath, the cold, pure January air filled his lungs. He was probably supposed to feel anxious, but instead, he felt calm. He watched the sky become dark and sensed the warmth of Mikes' hand in his own, felt the fabric of Mikes' shirt and jacket on his cheek. Mikes breath was gentle and even. He turned his face to look up at the boy, he was lying on and nodded.
Yes, he could feel it. He could feel everything.
And Mike could feel it, too.
Everything was going to be okay, as long as he was with him.