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the house was silent, the kind of quiet that only comes after something loud and terrible. the still in the house made it seem almost empty, except for the soft creek of the old floorboards beneath their boots and the distant hum of the heater.
they had made it out — barely. just barely. the dust, ash, and grime from the upside clung to them, as if it was refusing to let go. blood stained their clothes, remnants of the cuts and wounds they had earned during their escape.
mike walked quietly into the bathroom, resting his hands on the basin in front of him. will followed after, softly closing the door behind them with a soft click.
mike didn’t look in the mirror. he didn’t want to. he kept his head low, knuckles white against the porcelain counter.
will sat on the edge of the tub, arms resting on his knees, still catching his breath from their frantic chase out of the upside down. he looked pale under the warm light of the bathroom, almost too pale. the shadows under his eyes seemed larger, his chest rising and falling steadily now — a good sign.
“you okay?” questioned mike, his voice rough.
will didn’t answer right away, he just looked up the back of mike’s head, eyes scanning over his ruffled curls and the blood staining the ends. he swallowed, then said, “yeah. just…” he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.
mike looked back at the tub, studying over will’s face. the look on will’s face — the look in his eyes. distant. glassy. scared. he crouched in front of will, making the latter just blink.
without a word, he just stood up, reached into the sink cabinet, grabbed a washcloth, wet it under some warm water, and crouched back down to will’s level.
the brown-haired boy just stared, his gaze following every move that mike made, like he was admiring a piece of art.
mike brought the cloth up to will’s face, softly brushing over his cheek. “this alright?” he asked, flicking his eyes back and forth between will’s. will didn’t flinch when mike gently touched his face, just blinked slowly.
will just softly nodded, letting mike continue to wash his face and jaw. they sat in silence, but it wasn’t like the silence throughout the house. it was a comforting silence — an embracing silence. one that they both needed.
mike scrubbed gently at the grime on will’s face, careful around the bruises and the shallow cut on his cheek. even though mike continued to gently wash his face, the look in his eyes didn’t wash away, — mike wishes he could rid will of all his pain, all his worry — everything he’s been through.
as mike continued downwards to will’s neck, he reached his shirt collar, then hesitated. it was ruined — torn at the shoulder, stained dark across the stomach. without saying anything, will and mike locked eyes, and will understood.
he brought his shaky hands up to his shirt buttons, and unbuttoned it slowly. his fingers trembled as he slipped the buttons free, one by one. the shirt, stiff with dried blood and grime, hung loosely on his shoulders by the time he stopped. he didn’t shrug it off, not yet.
mike didn’t stare. he focused on the cloth instead, dipping it again in warm water, wringing it out. he didn’t reach out again until will gave him the smallest nod — almost unnoticeable.
carefully, mike peeled the shirt off will’s shoulders, his fingers brushing bare skin, now cold despite the heater’s quiet hum beyond the door. he worked slowly, like he was afraid will might shatter under his hands. and maybe, in a way, he was.
“does it hurt anywhere?” mike asked quietly, almost a whisper.
will’s mouth twitched — not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. “everywhere,” he admitted.
he brought the cloth to his collarbone gently, almost like he was testing the waters. he cleaned the bruises along will’s collarbone, then lower. there were scrapes on his ribs, a nasty one just above his hip. mike’s hands were steady, but his throat felt tight.
mike’s free hand hovered over a bruised spot near will’s ribs. the wound was bloody, dark and raw against pale skin.
he set the cloth aside and reached into the open cabinet again, this time for the first-aid kit. “you should sit on the floor,” he said softly, “i’ll grab the kit.”
will nodded and moved himself down, wincing under his breath. he leaned against the cool bathtub, watching mike as he rummaged through the cabinet. he returned with a small white box, flipping the latch open like he’d done it a hundred times.
“you don’t have to—”
“i know,” mike said, voice soft but certain. “i want to.”
so mike sat beside him, placing the kit on the floor in front of both of them. the silence returned as mike gathered the things he needed, some bandage, rubbing alcohol and a new, clean, washcloth.
mike carefully poured the rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball, wincing slightly at the sharp scent. he hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking back to will, who was still staring ahead, his hands resting limply in his lap.
“shit, will,” mike said, voice barely above a whisper, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out to gently touch the bloody spot near will's ribs. will flinched, just a small jerk of his body, but he didn’t pull away. “it looks bad.”
will looked down at the wound, gulping slightly when he saw it. mike looked up at will, whose eyes flicked back to his quickly. he grabbed the cotton ball and shifted it closer to the wound. “this is gonna sting, okay?” mike mumbled, making will nod softly.
mike didn’t say anything as he pressed the cotton ball to the wound, dabbing gently. will sucked in a sharp breath, but it wasn’t loud. just a quiet intake of air, like he was trying to steady himself.
"i’m sorry," mike muttered, as if he could take away the pain with the apology alone. but it didn't, and so mike continued to dab softly.
will shook his head quickly, even though the cotton ball burned against his skin. “don’t be,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “it’s not your fault.”
mike worked carefully, muttering quiet apologies every time will flinched or hissed under his breath. will’s hands gripped the fabric of his ruined jeans, knuckles white. but he didn't complain, and he didn't tell mike to stop.
he dabbed and cleaned the blood until it was gone, the wound now flushed pink from the alcohol. as mike finished, he set the cotton ball aside and reached for the bandages. his hands shook a little as he unwrapped the bandage, but he tried to hide it. his fingers brushed over will’s ribs again, featherlight, as he wrapped the gauze around him — twice, then three times — careful not to wrap too tight.
will watched him. studied the way mike’s brows furrowed in concentration, the way his mouth was set in a tight, worried line. watched the way mike’s hands, always so sure and full of energy, were trembling now.
“there, it’s… it's not perfect, but it'll help until we can get you stitched up properly,” mike breathed out when he finally tied off, sitting back on his heels. he looked up at will’s face, searching.
will looked at him then, really looked at him. his eyes were glassy, and for a second, mike thought he might cry — but will just gave him the smallest nod, swallowing hard as he put his shirt back over his shoulders, not buttoning it back up just yet. “thanks,” will rasped, voice cracking a little on the word.
mike’s face crumpled just a little — not enough to fall apart, but enough that will saw it. enough that it made his throat tighten all over again. without thinking, he reached up to brush will’s hair out of his face, thumb grazing his temple.
“you don’t have to thank me,” mike said, voice low and fierce. “i’m—” he broke off, biting the inside of his cheek. “i’m just glad you’re here. that you're okay.”
the touch was light, barely there, but will leaned into it. just a little. he sighed quietly, scanning over mike’s face slowly.
and mike did the same, studying closely at all the little features and crevices placed all over will’s face. his eyes landed on one spot in particular; the shallow cut located on his cheekbone.
“can i patch that one up for you too?” he asked will quietly, dragging his fingers over to will’s cut, outlining it softly, careful not to hurt will.
will brought his finger up to the cut, dabbing it softly and glancing at his finger, blood staining the tip. his eyes flicked over to mike’s as he replied with a soft nod.
mike gave a small, relieved smile — one of those rare ones that crinkled his nose a little — before grabbing another cotton ball and soaking it lightly in alcohol. he glanced up at will one more time, checking, and when will didn’t pull away, he leaned in.
his other hand found will’s jaw, tilting it gently so he could get a better look. his thumb rested just under will’s ear, warm and steady. will’s skin felt like porcelain under his fingers; cool to the touch, impossibly smooth, and ever so delicate.
“ready?” mike asked as he locked eyes with will. will just nodded softly and gave the faintest hum of acknowledgment, his eyes fluttering closed, careful not to break free from the grasp of mike’s fingers. slowly, his eyes fluttered closed.
mike dabbed the cotton to the cut as lightly as he could manage. will flinched, but he didn’t move away — didn’t even make a sound. mike’s stomach twisted all over again, hating the way will just took the pain without complaint. “sorry,” mike muttered again, instinctively.
when the blood was cleaned away, mike hesitated — cotton ball still hovering midair — because now they were so close. will’s face was inches from his, and mike could feel the heat rolling off him, see every tiny freckle, every scratch and bruise that hadn't been there before.
and will was still leaning into his touch, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. mike’s heart pounded so loudly, he was sure will could hear it.
“mike?” will questioned quietly, snapping mike out of his thoughts. shit.
“ye— yeah? sorry,” mike stuttered, quickly placing the cotton ball to the side and grabbing a bandage. he fumbled with the packaging, hands trembling even more than before. “shit,” he mumbled under his breath as he struggled to open the bandage with one hand.
will opened one eye, peeking at mike who was still struggling. mike could take his other hand off of will’s face, but he couldn’t. he just couldn’t. the boy’s skin was so soft, and mike couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of his freckled face in his palm.
“are you alright?” will asked, making mike just nod feverishly.
mike took one side of the packaging in his mouth and pulled the other with his hand, grabbing the bandage out and carefully taking off the excess paper. he moved will’s face to the side once again, gently placing the bandage on his cut.
mike smoothed the bandage down carefully, his thumb brushing the edge once, twice, like he was making sure it would stay. really, he just didn’t want to stop touching him. he let his hand linger for a second longer than necessary before finally — reluctantly — pulling away.
without mike’s hand there, will’s face felt colder somehow. emptier. he blinked up at mike, dazed, like he’d been yanked out of a dream.
mike sat back a little, putting some space between them, trying to calm the way his heart was still hammering against his ribs. he wiped his palms on his jeans without thinking, nerves crawling under his skin. “there,” he said, voice rough. he cleared his throat and tried again. “you’re good as new.”
will huffed a quiet laugh — small, breathy, but real — and it made something unfurl deep in mike’s chest. “thank you, mike,” will said, softer than before. like he really meant it. like he was thanking him for more than just the bandages.
mike shrugged, trying to play it off, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. he looked away at the floor, “anytime,” he said. and he meant that, too.
they sat there for a minute, just in each other’s presence — the weight of everything that had happened pressing down, but not crushing them. not this time.
then will shifted, wincing a little as he moved his side, and mike immediately leaned forward again without thinking.
“careful,” mike blurted out, hands hovering uselessly like he wanted to catch will even though he wasn’t falling. will looked up at him through his lashes, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
“i’m okay,” he said quietly. “really.”
mike nodded, but his hands didn’t drop right away. they just hovered there — like he wasn’t ready to stop helping, or maybe he just wasn’t ready to let go. he really wanted to feel will again, but he knew he couldn’t do that. so he dropped his hands back, placing them into his lap.
they sat in another silence. another silence that was crushing them with the weight of the world, but not suffocating. the silence stayed, until mike cut through it with his sharp voice.
“you should try and get some sleep,” mike suggested, his voice even softer now — if that was even possible. it was like he didn’t know how to speak to will, like he didn’t know how to offer it. “i mean… you’ve been through hell, literally. you need rest.”
will’s gaze fell on mike as he talked, almost soaking it all in. “you know… you did too.”
mike blinked. “huh?”
“you did too. you’ve been through hell too, and you still haven’t been patched up,” will pointed out, making mike blink once more. he was focused on will, he completely forgot about himself. “i mean, look at your shoulder, mike,” he gulped, making mike glance down to his shoulder, where his shirt was torn and a bloody gash peeked out.
he hadn’t even noticed how bad it was, his mind completely consumed by making sure will was okay. but now, seeing the blood and how it had stained through the fabric of his shirt, it finally hit him. “shit…” he mumbled under his breath, more to himself than anything.
he moved to reach for the first aid kit again, but will’s hand shot out and stopped him. the soft pressure of it on his wrist made him freeze and glance up at him.
“mike... let me,” will said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, but it was firm. it wasn’t an order; it was more like a gentle insistence.
mike looked at him, his breath hitching in his throat. will’s eyes were so soft, so trusting — like he wasn’t scared anymore. not as much, anyway. it made mike’s chest tighten with something he couldn’t name. and mike couldn’t deny him when he said his name like that.
so, he just nodded, taking his hands away from the first aid kit and letting will take the wheel.
as will sat up to grab the first aid kit, he groaned softly. “will—” mike muttered out instantly, about to jump up from his position and fumble to help will. but, a firm hand was placed on his chest, grounding him instantly.
“stop. let me take care of you,” will said sternly, but mike wasn’t phased. he knew it wasn’t because will was angry, he knew it was because will cared. “please,” he mumbled out after, his voice barely a breath — a quiet plea.
and that’s all will had to say for mike to listen, because then he relaxed — letting will open the first aid kit and examine its contents, carefully sorting through the bandages, antiseptic, and gauze.
he placed what he needed on the edge of the bathtub, closing the kit and tossing it aside. he dipped the cotton ball in the alcohol, just as mike did only minutes ago.
as he brought the cotton to mike’s wound, he froze. mike’s shirt was still on.
“oh,” mike mumbled aloud, realizing what will had stopped for. "sorry," he fumbled with the hem of his shirt quickly, pulling the cloth over and off his head. the shirt was stiff, and mike had to pry it off his skin to fully get it off.
the shirt hit the floor with a soft, wet thwack, and mike shivered a little — from the cold, from the way will’s eyes flickered up to meet his, and then immediately darted away again.
will swallowed, hard. his fingers hesitated over the wound, cotton ball poised but unmoving. "it’s gonna sting," will warned, his voice hoarse, almost apologetic.
“i figured,” mike said sarcastically, making will just shake his head and let out a breathy laugh. the curly-haired boy gave a lopsided smile, trying to ease the sudden heaviness between them. "i think i can handle it,” he added.
will didn’t smile back — not exactly. but his mouth twitched, and then he finally leaned in. the alcohol touched mike’s skin and he hissed, a sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t pull away. will’s hand was steady against him, grounding him, even as the pain flared under his touch.
will winced quietly at the sight, mumbling something that mike couldn’t quite hear, looking up at him through his lashes again. “sorry, does it hurt?” he questioned as he continued dabbing the cotton ball on mike’s skin.
mike shook his head. "it feels okay. you're doing great."
the corner of will’s mouth twitched again — another almost-smile, barely there, but real.
they stayed close like that. too close, maybe. mike could feel will’s breath, warm against his skin, and it made his stomach twist into knots. he told himself it was because of the pain.
will finished cleaning the wound with slow, careful strokes, like he was afraid of hurting him more. then, he pressed a fresh gauze pad over it, his fingers brushing mike’s skin again.
mike was suddenly very aware of how bare he was — his chest exposed, his heart practically hammering itself out against his ribs, right where will’s hands were.
will reached for the bandage, unrolling it clumsily, trying to be quick but yet still so careful. mike watched the way his hands moved — the way they shook just a little. he looked like he was trying so hard not to mess up, like it mattered.
mike didn’t realize he was staring until will finally glanced up at him, catching him in the act. they both froze. the world around them felt smaller — tighter.
will licked his lips, nervous, and looked down again, pretending to focus on wrapping mike’s shoulder. mike let him, but the weight in his chest grew heavier, and he didn’t know what to do with it. he didn’t know what to do with any of it.
once he finished, he leaned back, clearing his throat as he looked at mike. “is it… too tight?” he questioned.
mike stretched his shoulder once, cocking it back slightly. he shook his head softly. “no it’s… it’s perfect. feels just right.”
“good,” he sighed out, placing the bandage back into the first aid kit. “is there anything else i could do?”
mike looked down at his body, searching for any other injuries that he could’ve missed. “don’t think so,” he replied. “thanks," he mumbled, too quiet, too raw.
will just nodded in response, and his eyes softened. mike thought he might lean closer. he thought he might actually—
and he did. will did. he leaned in closer to his face, putting a thumb on his cheek, slightly caressing over the soft skin.
mike felt like he couldn’t breath. like this was all a dream, or maybe that he was still in the upside down. was will about to—
“you still have dirt on your face.”
oh. will wasn’t about to kiss him.
mike blinked, caught somewhere between humiliation and heartbreak, and managed a breathy, “oh.”
will smiled — barely — and wiped gently under mike’s eye with his thumb, brushing away the dirt. the touch lingered just a second too long. mike’s skin buzzed where will had touched him.
soon enough, mike started to lean into his touch — slowly, without meaning to, like his body made the decision before his mind could catch up.
will didn’t pull away.
his hand stayed there, thumb resting just under mike’s eye, the other fingers brushing lightly against his temple. his breath hitched — barely noticeable, but mike caught it anyway. felt it.
mike’s eyes fluttered shut. just for a second. he was lost in his thoughts. or maybe, he was lost in will.
and then, he remembered.
he remembered the reason they were here in the first place. the upside down. vecna. holly.
holly was still in there, and they couldn’t do anything about it.
a tear slowly fell from mike’s eye, dragging down his cheek. he barely even felt it as it fell — he didn’t even mean to start crying.
“mike?” will asked softly, looking at the tear flowing down his cheek. he brought his finger to the tear, wiping it from his cheek softly. "what's wrong?"
mike’s breath hitched at the gentle touch, at the way will looked at him like he was something fragile. but the heaviness in his chest didn’t ease. not really. not when holly was still in that place. still gone.
“she’s still in there,” mike whispered. “my little sister is still in there, and i’m just—” his voice cracked, and he looked away. “i’m just sitting here, doing nothing about it.”
will’s hand dropped slowly from his cheek, his face crumpling, guilt creeping into his expression. “mike… we had to leave. we couldn’t stay any longer, or—”
“we would’ve died,” mike sniffed. “yeah, i know. i just—” he didn’t finish his sentence. he couldn’t. he didn’t even know what he was saying as tears continued to stream down.
“we’ll get her out of there. i know we will,” will spoke as he brought his hand to mike’s, that was resting in his lap. mike looked down at will, tears still staining his cheeks. the way will looked at him — so softly, like will’s whole world broke when mike started crying.
mike just shook his head and looked the other way. “i just… i can’t stop thinking about her. about what he might be doing to her. about how we still don’t have a plan.”
will didn’t try to comfort him with lies — not the empty kind. that wasn’t how they worked. instead, he just scooted a little closer, their knees brushing. “we’ll get her back,” he said, determined. “i don’t know how yet, but we’re not done. you’re not done. we’re gonna fight. and we’re gonna win.”
mike looked at him — really looked — and found a quiet kind of strength in his eyes. not hope, exactly. but belief. a reason to keep going. he swallowed. “but what if we don’t?” mike asked, barely a whisper. “what if we fail?”
“you saved me once— actually, two times,” will corrected. “we can save her too. i know we can.”
mike started another sentence to rebuttal, but will just pressed his finger against his lips. “mike, i promise. please.” as mike scanned will’s face, he noticed will’s tear stained cheeks as well. will was crying too.
mike instantly brought his hands up to will’s jaw, wiping the tears from his face, just as will did to him seconds ago. “don’t cry. please. not for me.”
will just chuckled softly under his breath, a breathy laugh. he pressed his eyes shut, letting his hand fall from mike’s mouth.
will’s lashes fluttered as his hand dropped, like the touch still lingered between them. he opened his eyes slowly, and for a second, all that passed between them was quiet.
not silence — no, not with the way their hearts were thudding, the way mike’s breath hitched, the way will’s lip trembled as if more words might spill out if he let them.
mike’s hands stayed on will’s face. “you’re not supposed to cry,” he said again, softer now. not as a plea. almost like a secret.
will shook his head slightly, like he didn’t have the strength to pretend. “i’m scared too,” he admitted. “i’ve always been.”
mike’s hands didn’t fall away. he just stood there, holding will’s face like it was something fragile, something he couldn’t afford to drop. will didn’t pull back either — didn’t flinch or step away. he just looked at mike with tired eyes and a too-heavy heart, like he’d been carrying this weight for longer than he remembered.
mike finally exhaled. “i know,” he whispered. “me too.”
they didn’t say much after that. there wasn’t anything left to say — not right now. not while everything still felt like it might collapse again at any second.
mike’s thumbs traced lightly along will’s jaw before he finally let go, his hands falling to his sides. will blinked a few times like he was trying to return to the moment — this moment — and offered the smallest, tiredest smile. it wasn’t bright. but it was real.
“we should clean this up,” he said gently, motioning toward the mess of bandages and wrappers scattered around them.
mike nodded. “yeah… yeah, okay.”
they moved slowly, quietly, their shoulders brushing as they gathered the first aid kit supplies. mike tucked the loose gauze back into its box while will folded the half-used alcohol wipes and tossed them into the waste bin nearby. it felt like a strange thing, cleaning up when the world outside was still on fire — but maybe that’s why they did it.
will closed the lid to the first aid kit and held it in his lap for a second, like he was reluctant to let the moment end. “is your shoulder really okay?” he asked, not quite looking at mike.
mike glanced at the bandage, then back at will. he nodded softly. “yeah. thanks to you.”
“okay,” will said, opening the cabinet and putting the first aid kit back.
they sat there for a second, like they didn’t know what to do next. like they hadn’t thought this far ahead.
“do you… want to go to bed?” mike questioned, making will turn towards him.
will swallowed, nodding. “yeah, we probably should get some rest. for tomorrow.”
mike just hummed under his breath, quietly agreeing with the latter. he got up slowly, using the wall of the bathtub to help himself get up. will did the same, wincing softly as he brought himself up.
mike walked towards the bathroom door, grabbing the cold doorknob and turning it softly. but before he opened it completely, he turned back around.
“do you… want to sleep in my room tonight?” he offered, making will blink softly at the words. will didn’t say anything at first, making mike stutter to say something. “i— well, just because… you should sleep comfortably for once. the couch gets tiring after a while.”
he laughed softly, looking at the floor. “yeah… yeah it does.”
mike swallowed, looking down at will. he waited for his answer, but it seemed like will didn’t know what to say. shit. he messed up, didn’t he? “if you don’t want to, it’s fine—”
“no, no. i will, mike. but only if that’s okay with you,” will shook his hands feverishly, trying to assure mike that he did want to sleep with him, which sounded weird when mike replayed the thought in his brain.
mike nodded in response. “of course it is.”
those words made will swallow, followed by a small smile afterwards. “thank you. for… everything. really."
mike smiled at the latter, looking over every single one of his features, like this was the last time he was ever going to see him.
“no, thank you,” mike assured, opening the door behind them, softly placing his hand into will’s. their hands hung together softly, barely holding each other — but the intimacy was there, and it felt like it was burning mike’s skin.
will looked down at their hands, then back up at mike. slowly, a small flush appeared on his cheeks. and with that, they made their way up the stairs, and into mike’s room, fingers tangled together.