Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mike has been very cautious this last week.

Everything feels fragile. The ground they walk on, entire streets cracked open to the cursed dimension below. The looks on his friends and family’s faces, like at any moment one word would send them crumbling into despair—though they were assuredly already there.

Since arriving back in Hawkins, every morning when Mike awakens and remembers the state of everything, that now-familiar panic and horror clenches his insides. It doesn’t let up until he finally falls asleep again in the evening. That is if he’s able to. He usually wakes multiple times in the night now, images of everyone he cares about dying or the earth being consumed whole haunting his dreams.

And Will. Dreaming of Will has become a pattern. He hadn’t dreamt of Will’s lifeless body in the water that night in quite a while. Now he sees it almost every night, and if Will’s not in the water, he’s in his bed, or down in the basement where he’s currently sleeping. Each time Mike wakes, he finds himself tiptoeing down the stairs to check that Will is still there, still breathing.

He’ll cautiously approach and watch the small rise and fall of his chest, and listen to his even breath. He usually listens until it calms his own breathing down, and things start to feel real again, just enough until it feels okay to walk back up to his bedroom.

Mike feels like he’s been tiptoeing through everything. When everyone gathers around to discuss plans, and eyes gravitate towards him in the quiet moments where he would usually speak his mind, give an idea, something, instead he stands motionless, afraid. Any move feels like it could set off a landmine. Any thought he has could open an entire dimension of reality that he’s not yet prepared to face. 

El broke up with him quite promptly the day after seeing Max. She said the problems they were dealing with were too big to have to worry about the problems between them. She didn’t have the space for them. Mike understood that and instead of being sad, instead of being heartbroken like he thought he might have, he felt… relieved. He was relieved to not have that plaguing his mind anymore. Not another thing to be fucking careful about. 

Because Mike feels like he’s going to blow. If he’s jostled or shoved in the wrong way he thinks everything is going to rupture. Everything. Himself, the world, it’s all going to fall a part. Chaos seems to be taking root in every part of town and in every person he comes across. His natural instincts to want to help his friends are going haywire, he can’t focus, he can’t breathe.

For once in his life he’s not rearing to take action. Mike wants to bury his head in the sand because everything is too much. For once in his life he feels like there’s nothing he can do.

Mike can’t get his panic under control. It’s like it’s still real, like it’s still happening. His breath is erratic as he squeezes his eyes shut, stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it, it’s not real.  

He sits at the edge of his bed. Opening his eyes to stare down at a speck of lint on his carpet. He doesn’t know what time it is. Late. He just woke up from another dream where he saw Will’s body being dragged from the Upside Down. His still cold form covered in lichen, wanting to run to him but not being able to.

In his dreams all he wants is to get to him, and now in his waking hours it’s all he can think about. Everytime he sees Will in the flesh, everytime he comes into his sight, Mike rejoices. His brain can’t catch up with his rapidly changing emotions, but just seeing Will makes everything sync up.

Mike doesn’t have the capacity to wonder if he should feel this way or not. He doesn’t care honestly, not anymore, not when he feels like this. He can’t take it anymore. That’s what he needs right now, it’s all he needs really. He stands to make his way downstairs for the fourth time this week.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs to the basement, the grip on his heart loosens a little when he sees Will’s body sprawled out on the couch. He inches closer, not being able to stop his desire to just hear it. 

Crouching down next to Will’s sleeping form, he stays as silent as he can. In the utter emptiness of the room the only sound is Will’s soft breath. Mike closes his eyes and tries to breathe with him, scrambling, desperate to find it. The dim light and Will’s breath feel like the only anchors he has at the moment.

Without thinking or knowing what he’s really doing, Mike reaches a hand out and places it over Will’s chest. It’s warm and… thump, thump…

Mike smiles softly to himself. The subtle vibration feels nice and soothing, and it’s undeniable.

That’s what Mike likes. It’s undeniably true. Will is here, breathing, and Mike can feel it right in his hand. Nothing can be more real than that.

“Mike?” Will’s groggy voice stirs him awake.

He shifts his head, his eyes peeking open, “Mm?”

He sees Will propped up on his elbow, a hand resting on Mike’s arm. Mike lifts his head, his back creaking and his knees screaming in protest.

But he can’t focus on that because Will’s hand is still on his arm. His arm , which is currently slung over Will’s chest.

Why Will hasn’t used that hand to throw him off already, he doesn’t know, but the look on Will’s face says that he’s quite confused by Mike’s sudden appearance at his bedside.

“What are you doing?”

“I- um…” Mike’s groggy eyes stare at his hand on him, he can still feel Will’s heart beating in his chest, “Just- I had a weird dream. I just came to check on you,”

“Oh,”

Will continues to stare at him, he swallows, “Um,” he looks down at Mike’s arm resting on him again and Mike quickly pulls it away now.

Their gaze meets and Mike can’t read Will’s expression at all, “Was it a bad dream?” Will asks.

“Um… yeah, kind of,”

Will opens and closes his mouth. This was a horrible idea, and he’s mucked it up, “Sorry, I’ll go now-”

“Stay,”

“What?”

“Stay here, if you want. You know I get bad dreams too,”

“Right, yeah um, okay,”

There’s a moment where Mike can’t look at him. He feels so caught, Will’s gaze burrowing into him. Why the hell did he come down here? He should've just rolled over and dealt with it.

“Why’d you come to check on me?” Will wonders, like Mike isn’t even there.

“Huh?”

“You said you had a weird dream and you came to check on me,”

“Oh, I- it’s- it’s really nothing, just a bad dream. I was worried something had maybe happened to you,”

Will’s eyes fall. Then he shifts and scoots back on the couch making room, “Here,” he pats the space, “if you… if you want to stay here,”

Mike stares at the space lying right in front of Will, it’s honestly much too small for the both of them, especially given Mike’s long legs. Yet Will is offering it, despite the fact that Mike came barging into his space and plastered himself to his chest in his sleep.

He lies down and maybe it was the wrong choice to lay facing Will, but lying with his back to him feels like it would feel much worse.

Will’s face is casted in the yellow lamp light, not having slept in the dark for years. And it’s close, he’s really really close. Mike can feel Will’s breath leave his body, part of his body grows weak just hearing it, like it could send him to sleep in an instant.

“What happened in the dream?” Will whispers.

He shakes his head, “Nothing really, it was just-” he shrugs.

Will stares at him, waiting. Mike feels like he’s been seeing that look on his face a lot this week. Usually he’d fold, give in to whatever Will wanted from him. But not now. Everything’s too fragile right now.

Not to mention that what’s going on in Will’s mind has got to be five thousand times more stressful than anything that’s plaguing him. 

“You know you can talk to me,” Will says, it’s said in a hush. Softly, delicately, unintrusive. 

He looks at Will’s lips, noticing how they barely part around the words, how close they are to him, the way the air between them is hot and moist, mirroring everything warm and vigorous that pumps through his body. Mike feels that insane urge inside him tugging. Touch him, feel it, taste it.

“I know,” he sighs. A beat of silence passes, Mike doesn’t take his eyes off Will’s lips. However, he can feel Will's studying him.

Mike closes his eyes; it’s so much to take in. “I- just, not right now,” he lowers himself some, resting his head on his arm. He senses Will doing the same.

“Here,” Will says, pushing his pillow underneath Mike’s cheek.

Mike tries to be inconspicuous when he inches just a bit closer. Will doesn’t move back, well, he doesn’t really have any other place to go. 

Their breathing evens out, and here Mike can listen so much more closely. He wishes he could feel his heart too like before. He maneuvers his other arm in front of himself, his forearm brushing against Will’s chest, pressing in just slightly, he really has no idea if he’s being sly enough.

But then he feels Will press back. Just a little, barely noticeable. He holds it there, Mike breathes in deeply, and presses in even more. He’s still, he waits to find it.

Thump, thump…

It’s beating much faster now than it was earlier. Mike sighs.

Thump, thump…

Thump, thump…

Mike revels in it. It’s like everything has fallen away. It’s like nothing matters. The pumping of Will’s blood is all that really matters. He imagines it washing over his skin, feeling the heat of Will’s body inside him, thump, thump, here, here.

Will is alive, and not only that but he’s here with him, body against his, heart in his grasp.

Will Byers… 

Will stirs. He’s here again. He’s been here since the moment they got back.

They left you all behind.

Will tries to roll over but there’s no room. A pair of arms are wrapped tightly around him, holding him in place against the back of the couch. 

Looking down he finds Mike there against him. Side of his face smushed into his chest, ear placed directly over his heart. Will swallows and stares, the scene taken straight from one of his daydreams. The two of them coiled around each other, Mike, so close, just them and nothing else. 

It could be a trick, he thinks. What if One’s messing with him right now? What if Mike is actually not here?

Mike has been acting strange recently… 

He shakes the thought from his mind. The way in which Mike has been acting strange is entirely born from Mike himself. And honestly Will is pissed about it. He can read Mike like a book even if the other boy liked to believe he was well versed in skirting his emotions. Usually Mike’s closed off bouts only lasted until Will could sit him down alone and press him just enough. But no, Mike didn’t want to be cracked this time and… and…

They don’t want you around anymore…

You’re a nuisance

Will squeezes his eyes shut. Shut up, he thinks. 

You know I’m right

Mike seems to be holding on even tighter, he wishes this made him feel better. At any other time it would, he would drown in this moment, because when will he ever get to experience something like this again? Letting his mind pretend that Mike loves him, in the same way he does him. But no, now it just hurts. Hurts him down to his bones, because this isn’t real, even if Vecna isn’t behind Mike’s strange behavior.

Suddenly Mike’s arms are too tight, and being pressed up against this couch is suffocating. He tries to extract himself from him, jostling and pushing Mike back, who groans at the sudden aggressiveness.

“Mm- Will?”

He’s able to get his upper half up, one of his legs is firmly nestled underneath Mike’s and he’s pretty sure it’s completely asleep. He grabs Mike’s leg to move it off him, but Mike is sitting up and grabbing his arms.

“Wh-” he starts.

“Wait, don’t go,”

Will looks at him curiously, “Huh?”

“Uh…” Mike stares at him and Will gets the same feeling he did last night. This strange feeling like Mike was trying to look into his soul or something and then chickening out half way. What the hell was going on with him?

Mike’s still not saying anything and Will’s really had enough, why can’t you just fucking talk to me?

“My leg’s asleep,” he states.

Mike continues to stare, and then, like it took the words a whole minute to reach his ears, he comes alive again, “Oh! Sorry, sorry…” he throws his legs off him and Will tries to shake his leg out over the edge of the couch, it’s gonna hurt.

“Also, sorry for… um, being so clingy last night,” Mike mutters.

Will shakes his head, “No, it’s okay I-” he cuts himself off. I missed you… I miss you.

“These dreams will stop soon, I hope, and then…”

And then I won’t need you anymore. Yeah, Will knows that part.

He sighs loudly, shaking his leg out, the pins and needles burning up and down his veins.

“You okay?” Mike asks.

“Yeah, it just-” he winces, “hurts right now,”

Mike is still very close, if either of them moved just an inch over they’d practically be on top of each other. Mike’s hands wander to his leg and Will freezes at the movement, what is he-

Mike presses his fingers into his thigh, like he’s trying to work the blood through. Will’s mouth hangs agape. Mike continues down his leg, over his knee and down his calf, Will can’t do anything but stare.

“Better?” Mike asks, after his hands travel back up.

Will stares at him, “Um-” he says, looking back down at Mike’s hands on his leg, “Ye- yeah, uhuh,”

Mike gives him a small smile, sheepish, “Yeah, sorry for suffocating you,”

“It’s okay,” he says, his voice coming out a little high. Honestly it was really okay to Will, almost preferable even. He wishes Mike would suffocate him every night.

“Like I said, I mean- you can bother me any time in the night… I’m not really sleeping that well right now anyway,” he shrugs, as if he’s not begging Mike to come back every night. Maybe Mike would talk then, or maybe not, but it would be something.

Mike nods seriously, “Yeah, yeah, I… well I can’t-” he shakes his head again and Will wants to scream, “Well sleeping with you feels a lot better,”

Will’s heart clenches, he wants to cry, he wants to scream, he wants to kiss Mike and also push him off this couch.

You’re never going to get what you want

You’re always going to suffer in this place

You were made to suffer in this place

Vecna’s voice rings true for once.

Will sinks, that feeling that’s always dormant inside him pulling his body down. 

That was one thing he’s always been right about. Will could find flaws through logic in almost everything else. But that, that was true. He felt it so deeply in his bones. The despair of the inevitability of it all, that one day he’s truly going to have to face the fact that he is alone. Not merely physically or emotionally, but this twisted, knotted, putrid thing wrapped up inside him will keep everyone at arm’s length, unreachable, unknowable. Years will go on and he will always be trapped somehow, everyone will grow up and grow apart, but he will be left just the way he is.

“Will?” Mike’s concerned face studies him. Will wishes he had just shut his eyes when he woke up, and enjoyed the soft silence of laying with Mike. He wishes he had just pretended and indulged the moment for longer, feeling the way his heart pounded against Mike’s ear.

His heart’s pounding much harder now.

In a burst of sudden movement Mike’s hand comes out to rest over his heart, like he couldn’t hold back the action any longer, which of course only exasperates the issue, “Will I-”

Sudden knocking on the basement door interrupts him. 

“Will?” Karen’s voice calls down to them, “The boys are here to pick you up, do you know where Mike is?”

Mike pulls his hand away from his chest, “Y- Yeah Mom, I’m down here!” he calls back to her.

They share a look after Mrs. Wheeler tells them to hurry up, as their friends are waiting for them. 

Will senses that they both are letting a million things go unsaid. He wishes he could reach into Mike’s body and rip it out of him, the same way he wishes he could rip inside himself and purge all the parts inside that make all of this hurt so spectacularly.

“Shotgun!” Robin calls as soon as they all step outside the Wheeler’s house towards Steve’s car.

“What? I'm designated shotgun!” Dustin cries, turning his outraged expression back at Steve sulking behind all of them.

“Fight it out amongst yourselves kiddies,” Steve drones, checking his watch, “we’re running late anyway,”

“Sorry,” Will mutters beside him. It wasn’t technically his fault, if anything it was Mike’s who didn’t wake up in his room to hear his alarm, but he still felt bad for making them all wait.

“No sweat Byers, it’s hardly the end of the world,” Steve snorts at his own lame joke. Mike on the other hand turns to give Steve a very unimpressed look.

Robin easily maneuvers past Dustin’s attempt at sneaking into the front seat, “Snooze you lose pip squeak,” she taunts.

He throws his hands up, “I don’t like the way she plays Steve,” Dustin complains, as he clamors into the back seat with a very quiet Lucas.

Once again he and Mike are resigned to the trunk. He feels Mike’s eyes at the side of his head, hoping to share a look, but Will can’t, right now he feels much too heavy. Vecna’s voice was weighing on him like a ton of bricks. A look would send him over the edge.

The car ride is mostly silent, there’s not really any light topics of conversation to fill the air with. Mike sits across from him, both their legs outstretched towards the other, and Mike’s have immediately wormed their way under his. Will separates his time by staring down at their legs touching and glancing over the back seat to where Lucas is resting his head against the window.

Every time Will looks at Lucas he thinks of Max, which then makes him think of Vecna, and then he thinks that it’s probably going to him on that bed next to her any day now.

The thought makes him turn away, but unfortunately Mike’s eyes catch his in the movement, shit. 

He won’t care, not after he knows

Will grits his teeth, and forces himself to look away and focus on the other passengers in the car.

None of them will

The four boys are stationed outside the gym, receiving incoming groups of Hawkins' residents. Mike eagerly takes the task of passing out flyers, handing half the stack to Will, leaving Dustin and Lucas to tend the front table.

Kicking loose gravel under his feet, Will avoids eye contact even as he slips the pieces of paper into outstretched hands. He notices heads turning, people doing double takes as they pass by. Is that Zombie Boy?

Mike nudges his shoulder, coming to stand next to him—though they should be spread out to pass out the flyers.

“Ignore them, they’re being stupid,” Mike says.

Sighing, he says, “I think you’re not supposed to be over here,” avoiding his gaze.

He hands a few flyers to a family that approaches them, forcing a tight smile.

Once the family moves on, Will turns to Mike, noticing how still and quiet he's become.

“Sorry,” Mike mutters, turning and promptly walking back to his original spot.

Will kicks himself internally. Mike was already pulling away; he didn't need to push him faster.

They’re never going to want to look at you ever again.

I know how miserable you really are.

He looks down at the flyers in his hand: Hawkins Stay Strong! Together! His grip tightens. No, not together. What utter bullshit.

Turn away, turn away…

A jolt of adrenaline runs through him. Screw this. He throws the stack of flyers on the ground, a breeze immediately scattering them. Why was he helping these people? Why was he here? Zombie Boy. Fuck that.

He starts marching off, not caring where, just away. Away from all these eyes, away from—

“Whoa, Will, where are you going?” he hears Mike call after him.

He doesn't answer, weaving through volunteers moving between tables and boxes of donations.

“Will!”

He turns another corner, reaching the back of the gym, facing overrun bike racks and the vacant outdoor basketball courts.

Will rarely felt anger like this. He wasn't an angry person, didn't lash out. But right now, he wants to scream at something, someone, anything.

They won’t ever understand you

I can 

You and I can make them sorry

Will buries his face in his hands. Scream, he thinks. I need to scream. This isn't fair.

"Will! What's wrong?" Mike calls out, finally catching up and placing a hand on his shoulder.

It will never be fair

Will Byers, let’s make them sorry

"Shut up!" Will screams, his shoulders caving in as he jerks away from Mike.

Mike turns him around, Will’s eyes are squeezed shut. 

“Will, what-”

“Dude! What are you guys doing?!” Dustin exclaims, running up to find them, quickly followed by Lucas.

“I don’t know, just-” Mike starts, but Will doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to be around any of them.

“Go away,” his voice comes out cold.

“What?”

“I want to be alone, I want you guys to leave me alone,”

“Will, what’s going on?” Lucas asks.

Will doesn’t know what he would’ve said—whether he would’ve confessed about Vecna's voice in his head or just told them to fuck off again—but it doesn’t matter now.

“Well, well, looks like the freak show is finally back together again,” comes a distinctly agitating voice behind them.

“Son of a bitch,” Dustin mutters.

Will turns around to see the owner of the voice he probably hates the most, coming in second only to the one in his head.

Troy Walsh emerges from the edge of the woods at the other end of the basketball court, flanked by his two detached limbs, James and Eric.

Troy crosses his arms in front of his chest, “You guys wanna play a pick up game or something?” he asks with a teasing lilt.

“Why don’t you pick up your shit and eat it Troy,” Lucas shoots back.

Lucas’s attempt at a jab is met with the other three boys dissolving into laughter, “Oh I’m sure you’re real good at that Sinclair,” Eric laughs.

Troy smirks, “Oh, how’s your girlfriend doing? Or wait no, not your girlfriend anymore is she? Got taken in by your freak cult,” 

Dustin is quick enough to grab Lucas’s arm before he starts stalking towards them, “Don’t dude… he’s not worth it!” he shouts over to them.

“Maybe it’s Henderson you need to beat up Sinclair,” Troy offers, “seeing as he was best friend’s with your freak leader,”

Dustin flips him off. 

“Awh, look how tough they’ve all gotten,” James coos at them, shouldering Troy, “Especially Zombie Boy, he looks like he wants to kill you Troy,” 

Troy joins in, “He’s gonna take me into the woods, and try and eat me! Oh no!” he jokes, causing his friends to laugh harder.

“No, no,” Eric adds, “he’s gonna take you into the woods and try and turn you gay!”

Their laughter hangs in the air. Will feels his body harden, his heart picking up pace, make them sorry.

“Shut up Troy!” Mike yells beside him.

Troy’s laughter starts to die as he locks eyes with Mike, smiling to himself. “Oh, Wheeler , you’re probably so happy to have your little friend back. Now you’re not the only sad little fairy walking around anymore,”

“I said shut up,” Mike says again, but with less conviction than before.

Troy takes a couple of steps forward, all the joking gone from his face. “God it’s been sad watching your faggot ass mope around here this year, at least now you guys can mope together,” he says in a sad mocking tone.

The air is knocked out of Will. His fists clench.

He’s not sure what they’re saying anymore. James says something that makes the other two laugh and Troy backs up. Staring at the back of his head as he goes, Will watches the way his face turns back to look at Mike and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t listen to them Will,” Mike cautions.

Will takes a step forward.

“Will,”

He hardly registers Mike speaking his name beside him or the hand coming to rest on his forearm. No, all he can register is that smug look radiating from Troy's face across the way. 

He brushes Mike's hand off and starts walking over towards the other group of boys. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do once he reaches them. But that look in Troy's eyes and his pitying glance at Mike twisted a hand around his gut and directed him to move. Has Mike been putting up with these jabs all year? Has Troy been using his absence to berate Mike, day after after, name after name? 

His pace picks up, he can hear his own breath panting through his nose over the sounds of his friends behind him, calling out in confusion.

Troy turns back around. His eyebrows raise at Will's advancing form. His friends snickering on either side of him. Will doesn’t know what he’s going to do. All he knows is that he has nothing to lose anymore. Mike won’t ever love him back, he might not ever be able to be himself in this town, he won’t ever get what he truly wants.

But he can take this.

He can take that stupid smug look off Troy's face. He can do that right now.

When he reaches Troy he’s still laughing, laughing at his stone cold face.

“Awh wanna protect your boyfr—”

Will swings and his fist connects with Troy's jaw. Troy stumbles back, grabbing hold of his face. Before his friends can come to his aid, Will sees red and he quickly grabs him by the collar to make the connection again.

Make them sorry

He's only ever seen his Dad throw a punch, when he was drunk with his buddies messing around. He hopes he’s hitting harder than that. He’s hoping it hurts, he’s hoping he’ll suffer.

“Will!”

Will swings again, hitting Troy just where he did. Troy’s weight sways and falls to the ground. Quick to follow him, Will’s knees hit the ground as his fist screws into his face again, sliding and crunching into his nose.

“Fuck, dude!” he hears one of Troy’s friends yell. Will feels the impression of the other boys trying to grab his arms and pull him off, but he jerks off their attempts, pummeling into Troy’s face, over, and over. Blood has broken out of his nose, hot and gushing down his face. His bloody mouth, spluttering, and coating Will’s fists in fresh warm blood.

Seeing him struggle to spit the blood out for some reason makes him angrier. This weak, pathetic boy, how dare he think he can speak to Mike that way. How dare he think he’s better than them, he’s the fucking loser. Will hits harder than he ever has, and Troy’s head lobs to the side, going still. It doesn’t stop him, he goes to do it again.

“Will! Will, stop!”

That’s Mike, or Dustin or-

Hands are grabbing him all over to stop him, but Will doesn’t want to stop, he wants to turn Troy to dust.

Lifting him by his collar, Will brings Troy’s fucked up face level with his. He looks like he can barely open his eyes.

Will seethes, panting, “Don’t you ever fucking say anything to him ever again,” he shakes him a little when his eyes glaze back.

“You understand?!” Will screams.

“Mm, shi- yes,” Troy spits.

“You worthless piece of shit, I’ll kill you,”

“ Will -”

Will jumps at hearing Mike’s voice so close. He’s crouched down next to him, a hand on his shoulder. Everyone else has frozen in their attempts to pull the two apart.

Turning to see Mike’s soft face inches from his, staring at him in awe, his expression is slack with shock, cheeks and ears turned pink. Will can’t find himself. What has he done?

“Will, it’s okay. Stop, please,” Mike speaks so softly, probably the only ones to hear are him and Troy. Which…

Will looks back down at what he’s just done, pummeled their middle school bully into the ground until he was a bursting vein. Dark rusty blood oozing from his cavities.

He feels the need to say sorry creep up on him, to backtrack, to take this back. But no, no … he won’t say that. He won’t let himself say that. Troy deserved it, and Will stands by that.

He looks at Mike, “S-Sorry,” he murmurs, his voice hardly registering. 

Mike’s face is impossible to read. His eyes shake with worry, his brow scrunched up, he opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He steels his face, “Let’s- let’s go, c’mon,” he tries to take Will by the arms but he doesn’t budge. He can’t. 

Mike shoves him to the side, off of Troy’s body as James and Eric swarm him to help him up.

“You’re fucked for this you know that?” one of them says, as the two of them hoist Troy beneath his arms.

“Yeah you’re fucking dead Zombie Boy!”

“Not when Zombie Boy’s Dad is Hopper you dumbasses!” Dustin yells back at them, coming to stand in front of him and Mike.

“Oh my God, dude?” Lucas comes down to sit at his other side, “What the fuck?”

Will registers the shock and horror in their voices, yet he can hardly react, can hardly move.

He stares ahead at where Troy last was, frozen. What the fuck is right. 

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin groans, hands in his hair, turning around to the look at the three of them on the ground, “Will, wh-”

“Shh,” He hears Mike hiss.

He can’t move. 

“Will,” Mike jostles his shoulder again.

“Mm,” Will looks down at his hands, his right one bloody and broken, the skin at the knuckles obliterated, he’s not sure if that’s his blood or Troy’s. He faintly registers an ache starting to bloom there, how many times had he punched him?

He feels Mike gently take his hand, “Shit, we should-”

“-That’s gotta be broken,” Lucas says.

“Yeah, no shit,” Dustin chimes in, coming down to look himself, “He wasn't letting up, I think I heard bones crunch,”

“Well, hopefully that was Troy’s jaw not-,”

“Guys shut up,” Mike cuts in, settling himself in front of Will, ignoring the other two.

Will looks at him, his face is as pale and impassive as a ghost. Mike stares at Will’s hand, holding it tenderly in his, not minding if the blood drips onto him. Will watches him curiously. Mike's eyes soften as he takes a breath, as the blood continues to drip, and Will wonders if he mistakes it, but he thinks he sees the smallest upturn at the corner of Mike’s mouth.

“Mike?” Will asks cautiously, finally finding his real voice.

“Um…” Mike swallows, “I’m gonna take him home,” he looks up at the other two boys who stand behind him, “I got it,”

Will thinks he sees Dustin roll his eyes as Mike pulls him up to standing. 

“You sure?” Lucas looks between the two of them cautiously, “Will, are you good?”

Will opens his mouth to speak, but Mike beats him to it, “He’ll be fine, I got him,”

Will looks back at them as Mike pulls him away, watching his friends' faces contort into palpable concern. Will he ever not be the freak? Even amongst them?

Mike is a flurry of movement when they get back to the Wheeler residence. No one is home, and that’s a small solace to take given the afternoon.

Mike brings Will into the upstairs bathroom first, holding his hand underneath the running water which makes him hiss.

“Sorry,” Mike whispers. He doesn’t understand why Mike is being so quiet given the fact of their profound solitude, but Mike’s been quiet all week.

Mike holds his hand as he dabs at the gash across his knuckles with a cotton swab drenched in alcohol. He flinches, but eventually the area numbs. He waits for Mike to ask what happened, to ask him, what the fuck was that? He doesn’t.

Although Mike asks a million other questions, “Are you light headed?” “Do you feel okay?” “Do you need water?”  

“No, I’m fine,” Will mutters.

Mike stares at him, “Let’s go to my room,” he says, shoving all the first aid supplies away.

“Sit down,” Mike says when they get inside.

Will doesn’t sit; he doesn’t actually want to be here. He wishes he could go home, home home, and bury his face in his pillow. He can’t believe he just did that. He looks down at his hand, now amateurly wrapped by Mike, part of the gauze already showing a faint hue of red soaking through the layers.

“Will,” Mike tries to get his attention, as he sits down on the edge of his bed.

Will doesn’t turn to him, doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t want to say anything. He wants Mike to speak. 

“Do you need anything?”

Will shakes his head.

“Are you sure? It’s- anything, really, whatever you need I’m here,”

Will lets those words sink in. Quite a bold thing to say, Mike hadn’t been there in quite a while. Not for him.

“Do you know what I really need?” Will turns to him, “If you could fucking talk to me,” 

Will doesn’t know who he’s become in the last hour; he doesn’t recognize the harsh tone coming from him. However, he feels it, he feels his losses taking hold of him, he has nothing to lose anymore.

“Huh? What?”

Now the floodgates are open, “You say everything is fine, it’s all whatever, but then you mope around like- like- just talk to me! It’s driving me crazy-”

“-What? What are you talking about?” Mike quickly stands in front of him, 

“You’re obviously… going through something, feeling something, and you won’t tell me. I know you, don’t try and lie,”

Mike looks downright outraged at the accusation, “I’m not lying. I don’t lie to you!”

“Well you’re not saying anything either. You avoid it, you stop yourself. I can tell Mike, you’re so easy to read,”

Mike takes a stuttering breath, “... I- Will- this- this is about you right now, you just went crazy on Troy need I remind you,”

“Don’t change the subject! You always do that. Not to mention I probably wouldn’t have punched him if he hadn’t said all that stuff to you…”

Mike stares for a moment, “Was that- was it really because of me?” his voice drops drastically.

“Yeah…” Suddenly Will is embarrassed, maybe he shouldn’t have said that. “Um just- I really want you to talk to me…”

Mike’s eyes fall, he chews on his lip, “I just- I’m sorry… it’s confusing and telling you just feels like it would make things worse,” his face falls into defeat.

“Why?”

 Mike shakes his head slightly, “You don’t need to deal with it. There’s enough horrid shit going on right now,” he emphasizes. 

“No.”

Mike glances at him, “No?”

“No. I want to deal with it. What is it, tell me,” Will pushes. He needs to know; he needs Mike.

Mike takes a sharp intake of breath, “Um,” he takes a moment looking around, looking like he’s bargaining for time. He goes to grasp Will’s injured hand around the wrist, but Will sharply pulls it back.

Mike looks like he was kicked in the stomach. 

Will holds his gaze, “You know I wanna take care of you too right?” he asks softly, “I mean we all would, if you just let us,”

Mike cowers under Will’s words, continuing to eye his injury. 

After a moment he gives a wry smile, “Yeah, looks like you really took care of me today,” he says sarcastically, breaking the tension.

Will holds his hand up in between them, “This wasn’t really what I was referring to but-”

“It was really cool,” Mike cuts in, a spark of life coming into his eyes.

Will’s eyes widen, a curious smile forming at Mike’s words, “It kinda felt cool,” he admits quietly.

Mike nods earnestly, “Really, really cool, I- um, yeah I kinda… really enjoyed it,” he goes red as he tells him.

“You did?”

“I was so shocked at first, couldn’t believe it was you and then…” he drifts off, breaking out into a grin, rubbing the back of his neck where the redness has spread.

Mike shakes himself out of his trance, “Don’t tell the others but, I could’ve watched you beat up Troy for hours,”

“I wanted to,” Will breathes out, he doesn’t know how his mind flipped on him like that, but god he wanted to, “has he been saying stuff like that all year?” he asks, taking a seat like Mike had wanted him to.

Mike shrugs, “On and off. Nothing we haven’t heard before though,” he says non-committedly, suddenly avoiding Will’s gaze as he looks across at the clutter on his dresser.

“I wish I could’ve been there,” 

Mike’s face scrunches up as he picks at a peeling piece of wood, “No, no I’m glad you weren’t. I’m glad you finally got a break from all the idiots here,”

Will kicks his foot out to get Mike’s attention, bumping his ankle, “No, for you. Wish I could’ve been there for you.”

Mike’s eyes flit around, not knowing how to hold the moment. Cautiously, Will holds his injured hand out, as an offering, and Mike instantly gravitates towards it, wrapping a hand around his wrist and sinking to his knees in front of Will.

Taking solace in it, Mike’s other hand comes to delicately hold his fingers. The way he studies it makes Will blush for some reason. His eyes cascading over the broken skin, his thumb brushing across the part of his hand that isn’t covered or messed up. His fingers gently rolling Will’s in his hand.

“It was really cool,” Mike quietly says again, rubbing some of the dried blood off his skin, “You’re- it was just, never felt like that before,”

“Like what?”

“Like- I don’t know,” Mike shrugs, “when you yelled at him it felt… good. Like part of me was scared but I also felt… safe? Strangely. I know that sounds crazy,”

Will shakes his head, “No it doesn’t. You know I’m a thousand times crazier,”

Mike cracks a smile, looking up at him, “Good,” he says, “Cus I’ve been going so crazy this last week,”

Will’s hand twitches in Mike’s, “Will you tell me?” he whispers, “What’s been bothering you?”

Mike takes a moment, continuing to stare at Will’s hand. He opens his mouth, “It’s… it’s everything?” His brow furrows as he looks back up at Will. His eyes mist over, and Will could die.

His heart cracks, “Mike,” he says. Will knows the rarity of Mike’s tears, always soaking up his pillow, or sucked back in.

His grip on Will’s hand tightens, “Like it’s just everything. Vecna, El, Max, Eddie, this town, you, you a lot. And I- I can’t do anything I’m-” his voice cracks as he cuts himself off. 

Will can feel Mike’s panic and tears rising as he struggles to find more words, “like- like I’m stuck, I can’t move or-or anything,”

Will grips his shoulder with his good hand. “Mike, breathe,” 

“I can’t. That’s the thing- I just need you,” he struggles to say.

Will’s blood freezes, his brain trying to compute all the different possible meanings of that phrase.

Although his body can’t be stopped, tugging at Mike’s arm and bringing him in. He should be up here with him, but instead Mike sinks his face into his lap. Will panics with where to put his hands, finding himself resting them gently on his head.

Mike struggles to inhale deeply at first, his arms wrapping around his hips, trying to find his rhythm. Will’s not sure how he should proceed, he runs his good hand through Mike’s hair, who immediately sighs and sinks deeper into him. 

Will continues to pull apart locks of his hair, scratching his scalp as his fingers find pathways through his hair, waiting patiently for him to calm down. Mike continues to breathe, and then he begins to sigh, big deep calm sighs. Will smiles to himself at the sound, beginning to feel much more calm himself.

When Mike’s even breath has taken over, Will gently tugs at his hair to make him look back up at him. “Why can’t you breathe?”

Mike rises slightly, sniffling back his previous tears. His hand peculiarly comes back up to Will’s chest like it did this morning. He stares at it intently.  

“I’m- I’ve been having these dreams… about you. I used to have them sometimes after you went missing, but now it’s- it’s all the time . Every night, I see you dead, like how you were in the lake, or even consumed by the upside down. I hear you scream for help, but I can never get to you. I’m worried it’s like what Nancy saw, like it might be something he’s planning,”

Mike’s hand presses into his chest harder. It feels like the space between his heart and Mike’s hand is minuscule, like Mike really could press in more and be able to feel it beat against his skin. 

He feels the fear in Mike, he’s been feeling it too. Vecna could be listening to his words right now. He could just be waiting for the right moment. Any minute…

“It’s not…” It feels silly to try and tell him that’s not going to happen, “I’m here,” Will says instead.

Mike nods, hand on his heart, “Yeah I know… I know that right now ,” 

Will looks down at Mike’s hand and the way it looks against him. It looks right, and it feels right.  

Mike answers the question he doesn’t ask, “I’ve… sort of made a habit of checking on you in the night, to make sure you’re still- you know,” he takes a large breath, composing himself, “and also listening… to you, breathing, and your heart it’s kind of, the only thing calming me down, making me feel better,”

Will stares on at this revelation, a strange part of him isn’t surprised, he supposes part of him must have inferred this. Another part of him however, is about to turn to flames in Mike’s hand.

Does this mean…

“When you’re not around,” Mike goes on, “my mind just goes to the worst places, imagines the worst things that could happen. Feel like it’s him, but I don’t know—I can’t stop thinking about you,”

Will’s breath catches. Mike’s hand tenses and he looks up at him, seemingly realizing what his words sound like.

Mike breathes, his hand burning into his skin, “Your heart’s beating really fast right now,” he observes the fact like he’s not the sole cause of it.

“I’m-” Will starts, but Mike takes his hand and puts it over his own chest. 

The beat comes to the surface, Will feels it thump against his hand, only slightly slower than his own.

They take an inhale at the same time and Mike can’t seem to fight a smile, so Will joins him. 

Staying like that for a minute calms Will down—he gets why Mike likes this—but their gaze is so intense that Will has to break it and pull his hand away. 

“Mm-” Mike protests when he pulls away, holding onto his arm, and coming even closer. Rising some, Mike worms his way in between Will’s legs, one knee resting on the mattress, “Can I- Please,” his breath ghosts over Will’s lips.

Will stares, can he what? 

He nods anyway. He keeps nodding, “Yeah, whatever you-”

Mike’s lips interrupt him. Will freezes, as Mike’s mouth latches onto that point of pressure at his neck, where his vein pulses, where his blood is palpable under his skin. His lips and tongue run over it, sucking it into his mouth. Will’s hands grip onto Mike for dear life, because what the fuck.

Mike holds there for a minute, his mouth slowing, breathing him in. The heat of it makes Will dizzy, he wants to drown in this feeling, he wants to keep sinking lower.

“ Mm,” a pathetic whimper escapes Will. His head lobs to the side, silently giving Mike complete permission to continue whatever the fuck this is. 

Because what is this and what does this mean? Mike’s teeth gently scrape against that point and Will feels blood pump in double time through his body. Everywhere in his body, and that is so embarrassing. Mike’s mouth is hot and wet, and it sounds like he’s eating Will’s flesh and for some reason this makes Will so pleased, and so eager for more. 

More, more, “Mike, more,” his thoughts find their way out his mouth.

Suddenly Mike pulls back to look at him, his eyes have blown out, “Shit, sorry, I-” 

Will grabs him by the face, bringing their lips together, doing what they should’ve hours ago, days ago, forever ago.

It’s his first kiss, he’s not sure what he was expecting, but he’s quickly forgetting that fact and falling into Mike further. His mouth is opening and Mike is eager to slip inside. Will thinks about the fact that his tongue was on his skin, did he taste like anything? Sweat? Dirt?

Mike tastes like something soft and subtle, something familiar. He wants more, wants to pinpoint it. Dragging his hands from his jaw to his hair, the ache in his hand being thoroughly ignored, as he grasps a handful of Mike’s hair in his left.

Mike groans, pulling away to look at him, “This is real right?” panting as he asks, his eyes desperately searching Will’s face for confirmation.

“I really hope so,” he says, placing a hand over Mike’s heart, it’s racing , 

thumpthumpthump. 

Will smiles, looking up at Mike, “Shut up,” Mike says, as he cracks a smile of his own.

Will realizes as he’s looking at Mike that he hasn’t heard Vecna since they got home. He presses his hand further into Mike, fascinated to watch his chest rise and fall.

Mike eyes him with a slight smile. He rises from his position on Will’s legs and Will worries for a moment that this is all ending, but Mike moves to sit against his pillows and pulls for him to come closer.

He sighs as he settles in Mike’s arms, one coming around to hold his injured hand, “It is really cool,” he reiterates.

Will laughs, “Feels like shit,”

Mike kisses his palm, and his wrist, Will doesn’t fail to notice how his lips run over his pulse a few extra times. Then, like he can’t help himself, leans further over to chase the vein down his arm, “It just feels so good,” he tries to explain.

Will nods, it feels good to him too, maybe for other reasons, but he doesn’t want Mike to stop.

“Will?”

“Hm?” he murmurs, wishing Mike would just keep going.

Mike cups his jaw, turning his face over, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“You sure? Before you were-”

Will shakes his head, “It’s all okay, right now, ”

Nodding, Mike brings his hand over his heart once again, “Remember, whatever you need, I’ll do whatever you need,”

And Mike looks so open, and so sincere, and Will’s dreamt of getting just an ounce of this moment, “I need you to kiss me,” he says. There’s nothing else to lose, so he might as well take what he can get.

Mike seems to reboot, taking a second but he does, “Y-Yes, yes, yes- I-”

Will shuts him up, he wants this so bad. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, just that he needs to do it, and preferably never stop. He’s probably being much too aggressive, grappling at Mike’s neck and his hair, pulling his face into him, wrapping his limbs around him.

“Mm, mm,” Mike’s surprise vibrates against him. He tries to firmly hold onto Will’s waist, and then his back as Will falls too far against him.

Mike tries to pull away for air but Will’s hold on his face keeps his lips against his, kissing his open mouth. He runs his lips down to his jaw and his neck like Mike had done before. He wants to feel that too, taste every inch of his skin. 

Mike lets out a gasp when his teeth and tongue suck in his skin, “Shit, oh my god, Will, Will,” Mike babbles. 

Will feels an insane amount of glee run through him, he loves this, he wishes he could have Mike like this forever. How is it possible that people get to have this? Having Mike against him, with him, feeling him, tasting him, how can this be possible? 

“Mike,” Will breathes, answering him.

They find some kind rhythm, or something that may resemble one. One where Will isn’t suffocating Mike’s chest, and one where Mike’s tongue doesn’t fall out of his mouth. One where one exhale is the other’s inhale, and their arms find home in the curves around the other’s body. Fitting together, back and forth, deeper, closer.

Will is so desperate to meld their bodies together, no one has ever been this close and yet he only wants them to find a way to get closer. He can hear Mike’s heartbeat, feel it against his own, and yet it is still not close enough.

That pathetic whimper he let out before, has nothing on the sounds Will makes now. Sounding like a hurt animal, as Mike returns to that pulse point on his neck, it’s so sensitive and it could make him cry. 

“That’s- it’s- so good,” he whines.

“So good,” Mike agrees, the tone of his voice lost to everything they’re doing. 

Will feels everything for a moment gripping his insides. His legs around Mike’s tighten, and his hands in his hair grip harder, “ Ah ,” Mike gasps at the pain of it.

Tears trickle down Will’s cheeks, “Mike,” his voice is all wobbly as he speaks his name.

Mike raises his head from where he was in his neck, “Will?” he looks at him, voice dripping in concern. He moves to get up but Will can’t have that, he can’t leave, he can’t go, so he holds onto him, keeping him where he was.

Mike maneuvers his hands out, wiping the tears from his face, “What’s wrong? Did I do something? Should we stop? I- I know this is- you know, weird I was just-”

“No, no don’t stop,” Will gets out.

Mike nods, even if he looks a little unsure, “Are you okay?”

That same question, no he’s not okay, “No, I just- I just don’t want you to leave,” his tears leak out again, his voice shakes, god he feels like he could float away. He hates himself for voicing those fears, he’s ruining it, he’s ruining this moment he’s always wanted to have.

“I’m not gonna leave,” Mike insists forcefully, framing his face between his hands. His thumbs resting over that pulse point.

“Eventually though. Eventually you are,” he explains.

“ No, no I’m never gonna leave,” Mike declares.

The words spear through his heart, everything he wants to hear, but how can that be true? 

Will crumbles, the tears flowing faster, his chest heaving out sobs.

“ Will, Will, no don’t cry I’m not-” Mike cuts himself off to bring them closer again. Rolling them over and wrapping himself around him, “I’m not going anywhere, ever, ever.” 

Will cries into him. Hard. Everything the voices in his head have ever said to him coming out now in rolling sobs. Everything he’s thought of himself, and every confirmation he’s received. Alone. He’s always going to end up here alone.

“Will, Will, I’d never leave, I- I couldn’t-”

Mike’s voice reverberates in his ear, his hands run down the length of his body against him, “Please don’t believe whatever he’s told you,”

“Not- n-not him, m-me,” he cries, clinging to Mike’s shirt, stretching it out.

“Hm?”

“He’s just repeating what- what I think of myself,” he finishes in a hush.

“What do you think of yourself?” Mike’s voice has gone tense with stress and Will feels so bad.

“I’m- I’m not… meant to be-” Will can’t even get the words out, they’re so bad, “I’ll always end up alone, because… well I’m not good. I’m- wrong, I’m just wrong,” 

It’s so embarrassing to speak it out loud. He can hardly keep his eyes on Mike after he says it, he wants to crawl into a hole and die.

Mike grips him harder, “You are not wrong. In any way. Will, never think that about yourself, you’re the greatest person I know,” his voice is determined, and he almost sounds angry as he reassures him. 

“And I will never leave you, Will. Ever. I think… I think I would actually die if you were gone. I need you so much, more than- I need you more than anything,”

Will’s lip quivers, he hates that Mike is reassuring him like this, he shouldn’t have to.

“ Will, ” Mike’s voice breaks, looking at him. He kisses his cheek and his lips, and then in a flurry his nose, his temple, his eyes, his ears, “Will, I’ll never leave. I need you,” he moves down his neck, “I need to hear you and see you or I think I might die,” he whispers, pressing his ear against his skin.

Will grips onto him, “I need you too,” he whimpers, “But I need you closer,”

Mike looks at him, “I wish I could get closer,” he says very seriously.

Slowly, his hand moves under Will’s shirt, warm against Will's skin. It feels as if their skin could merge, it feels like it's one. Mike finds a spot on Will’s chest and stares as his heartbeat pulses under his palm. Will shifts slightly, pulling off his t-shirt and grasping Mike’s hand, pressing it to his chest. His injured hand spasms with the sudden aggressive hold. “Ow,” he winces.

Mike sits up, taking Will’s hand gently. “Careful,” he chides, examining it.

“It’s your fault,” he says, “Making me feel crazy,”

Mike doesn't respond, closely watching as fresh blood leaks through his bandage. Will follows Mike’s gaze as the line of blood twists down the back of his hand, trickling down into his palm.

Their eyes meet, and Will feels like they both understand, they both feel this. Silently, he turns his hand over, offering his palm. He can almost feel Mike's dry mouth as he swallows, his lips inching closer to Will’s blood.

Mike's eyes flick up to gauge Will’s reaction. Will nods with bated breath, and that’s all reassurance Mike needs, his tongue flattens against his palm, licking up the small patch of blood.

Will can’t believe his eyes. Mike is licking his blood away, kissing his clean palm, working his mouth over the side of his hand, and drinking the rush of blood back. He sucks at the skin, even when it's clean, as if trying to extract every last drop. 

Will's hand pulses in pain, and he places Mike’s hand over it. “My hand has a pulse,” he says.

“Wish I could feel it,” Mike murmurs, his voice distant.

Will stares at Mike’s mouth, the chapped lips stained red. His heart skips a beat. “Me too,” he purrs.

Mike turns to him and they kiss again. It feels different this time—still desperate, but more certain. The kiss tastes metallic, and Will realizes with sudden elation that it’s him . He’s tasting his own blood on Mike’s tongue. He wants more, to feel Mike the way Mike feels him. He yanks at Mike’s shirt, and Mike understands instantly. They roll over to the side and when they both feel the intense beat, the visceral sensation of their hearts beating against each other they lock eyes in glee.

“I mean it Will. I need you here. I want you here,” Mike licks the dried tears under his eyes, the hot tight skin of his cheeks becoming wet again under Mike’s tongue, “This tastes really good too,” he groans.

“It tasted good?” he asks with a slight laugh.

“Very good, I would eat you if I could,”

Will laughs as Mike's tongue runs over him, though the sentiment doesn’t feel entirely like a joke. He almost wants to tell Mike to try if he really wants to.

Will lets the feeling of Mike licking his skin wash over him. The hot puffs of Mike’s breath make everything feel humid and moist. He thinks maybe he should cry again, just so Mike can lick up his tears once more.

His mouth finds Mike’s, tasting himself again. Will doesn’t know how kissing is supposed to go and he really doesn’t care to know at this point; he enjoys the sensation of what he imagines eating Mike’s face could be—nipping at his lips, swallowing his tongue, dragging his teeth against flesh. Their teeth bump constantly clanging like bones.

Will wants to know what the inside feels like. He brings his good hand up, shoving his fingers between their lips. Mike hardly falters, letting him in and sucking on his fingers. Will moves them around, enjoying the hot, wet slide against Mike’s cheek. He digs deeper, hitting the back of Mike’s throat, making him gag slightly. It's so soft and wet, with still more room to explore. Will looks into Mike’s trusting, willing eyes and thinks he might be able to go further.

“I’m inside you,” Will observes with a smirk, continuing his exploration. He imagines Mike’s skull, stripped of flesh. The thought makes his insides twist, with what he believes now is desire.

Mike pulls Will’s fingers out, grumbling, “S’not fair,” and reconnects their lips.

Will sighs, not caring that his fun was cut short. The wetness of their mouths together is as close a substitute for the inside of their flesh as they can get. It’s hot enough, almost intoxicating enough, it’s just not close enough.

“Closer, come closer,” he tells him. 

“I know, I need more,” Mike breathes, his mouth going over his pulse for the umpteenth time. The skin feels rubbed raw at this point, but Mike bites and sucks, holding the vein between his teeth, feeling the blood pump in time with Will’s heart against his. Will moans, feeling a high he’s never known. His brain functions have completely broken down.

“Need. I want to be inside you too,” Mike whispers heatedly, and the blood only starts pumping faster, “Want to feel it,” he says.

Will would giggle or squeal, if his brain was on. Maybe he would even make fun of him for saying something that sounded that salacious. Instead, he groans, crushing Mike in his embrace.

Mike doesn’t stop talking, “Wish I could crawl inside you, feel your heart against me, wanna live inside you,” he murmurs, his lips placing the words along his neck and down to his chest.

“Your body is so warm and real,” Mike marvels, pulling back just an inch to look down at all of him.

Will smiles, “I think I’d like you inside,” he whispers.

The lost look in Mike’s eyes from this week has melted away, replaced by peace, “You would?”

Will nods, “Then I’d never be alone,”

Hands move to his chest again, Will’s starting to see them as his own, “Think I would fit?” Mike asks with a teasing smile.

“Yeah, I think it’s always been a little big for me,” he tells him. It's true—he has a lot of empty space inside him, hollow and waiting.

Mike’s forehead rests against his sternum. Will runs hands through his hair, “Then you’d never be scared,” he whispers.

Mike nods against him, “I’d always know you’re real,” he mumbles. He hums against the skin, moving to the side and presses their chests together again.

The heat of the skin glues them together, and Will never wants them to part. Noses brush and eyes lock, “If we just stay right here…” one of them says.

“We’ll always know,” the other finishes.

Breathing slows. Hearts beat in time,

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Their heart pumps against each other, louder than it ever has. Loud enough that the voice inside their head is drowned out. Always knowing that what is true is living right inside them. Together.