Chapter Text
The wind had picked up again, lashing through town in sharp, punishing gusts. Trash and debris swirled violently, and somewhere in the distance, a demogorgon’s murderous scream tore through the night.
Mike’s pulse hammered against his ribs so hard it almost drowned out the ear-splitting sound. His breath came quick and hot despite the freezing air, each inhale scraping his throat raw.
They’d been at this for hours. Bleeding, sweating, running, hunting, fighting, running again. Blood crusted under their fingernails, sweat froze against their necks, and Mike was unsure how much longer his four hours of sleep would carry him through. The night just never ended, and instead kept getting louder. And though they’d killed most of the creatures, the last four had scattered.
That made them unpredictable. That made them lethal. And now, this fragment of their group was alone with the target to kill one of them while other groups targeted the other three.
Mike had been leading the whole time, partly from stubbornness, partly from the desperate need to prove himself, mostly to keep Will safe. Well, technically Will and Steve, who was also here, thanks to Hopper’s “three-person minimum” rule to "maximise safety." Not that it would ever feel safe.
Mike was this rule’s biggest hater. He'd rather be with Will alone. Things between them had been… different lately. But only when it was just the two of them. Throwing another person into the mix always dimmed the sparks that seemed to tie them closer than ever, a force more sacred than anything he’d ever experienced. Something in between best friends and… something else.
But with that came feelings Mike wasn’t supposed to have. Feelings that were becoming increasingly difficult to contain with Will seeming to turn prettier and fitter by the day.
Mike kept his arm stretched in front, motioning for silence as they crept past a half-collapsed hardware store. Their shadows dragged long across the walls, monstrous echoes of themselves. The wind cut through the street, shrieking between cracked windows and broken doors.
His mind buzzed with three things: Survive. Protect Will. Prove yourself. Survive. Protect Will. Prove yourself.
And then, in the distance, a shape moved.
It stepped out of the dark, ugly and valieant as it charged their way. Its flesh gleamed like oil in the moonlight, the face unfolding into its hideous state.
“Stay back!” Mike commanded, instincts snapping into gear. Without waiting for a response, he lunged forward.
This was it, his moment to do something that mattered.
“Mike, wait—!” Will's voice cracked behind him, but Mike didn’t stop. He reached for the gun strapped to his back and—
“AUGHH—!“
He didn’t see the demogorgon’s strike, only felt it— like molten fire bursting open inside his flesh. His body seized, and he crashed hard to the ground, shoulder slamming against the asphalt as the world tilted sideways. The shock hit first, a hollow burst of disbelief. Then pain, deep and vicious, like his leg was being ripped open from the inside out.
“MIKE!” Will’s voice cracked. In the same breath, he hurled their last firework at the demogorgon, exploding in sparks against the creature's side. It shrieked and vanished back into the dark.
Blood was already pouring warm and fast through Mike's jeans, soaking into Steve’s hands as he rushed to catch him.
"Fuck— oh shit—!” Steve’s hands pressed down hard, and Mike screamed. His throat tore open on the sound. It was blinding white pain, all-consuming. His body shook against Steve’s grip, and every pulse of blood felt like fire.
His head was spinning, feeling his consciousness slip at the edges, every heartbeat pulsing as his vision blurred and narrowed. The thing had sliced its claws deep. He’d seen enough injuries in the past to know this was bad. Too much blood, too fast.
Will reached him seconds after, face pale, tears already welling in his eyes. “Mike, oh my god, are you okay? Can you hear me?”
All he could manage in response was a groan of agony, coupled with a weak and contradictory thumbs-up.
“Gimme something to put pressure— NOW!” Steve’s voice was urgent, no room for argument.
“Shit, uhm—“ Will choked back tears. “Here.”
Will dropped his backpack without a second thought and flung off his sweater in one swift motion, tossing it to Steve. “It might be too thick to tie but we don’t have time.”
Mike didn’t register a word Will said. Because holy fuck.
Will was right there. Bare. Shirtless. Under the fractured streetlight glow, every line and shadow of him stood out— the curve of his shoulders, the subtle definition of muscle under smooth, golden skin.
Mike damn near forgot how to breathe.
And look. He had obviously noticed before that Will had… broadened. The thought of it frankly took up more space in his mind than he'd like to admit. But this… actually seeing it was something else. Whatever he’d been picturing underneath those flannels and sweaters was nothing compared to reality.
Will wasn’t just broad, he was kinda strong. His skin shone faintly with sweat, the subtle muscles beneath it flexing and shifting with each movement. His shoulders were solid, his chest lean, and his stomach was lined with the slightest slightest outline of abs. And the tan. He glowed of golden summers, even in the haze of the stark street lights.
Mike couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him, or the rush of heat that flooded his cheeks.
Focus, Mike. Focus or you'll bleed out.
“It’ll do.” Steve didn’t miss a beat, beginning to wrap the sweater tight around Mike’s thigh. He bit down hard, a strangled cry catching in his throat, his teeth hurting from the pressure. Even the smallest of movements would have Mike jolting in pain, immediately yanking his mind out of the clouds.
Then came the sound again. That same guttural, ear-splitting scream. Closer this time.
“It’s back,” Will said, voice lower than Mike’s heart could handle. He reached for the nail bat.
“Hell no, are you insane?” Steve snapped, snatching it before Will could get his hands on it. “I’m not letting both of you get maimed under my watch—”
“Someone has to fight it off!” Will argued, extending his arm. Mike traced it up and down with his eyes. He wished he could trace it with his hands, to prove to himself it was real.
“I can use it! Just trust me.”
The sound was only getting closer, louder. “Jesus. Okay. Just don't die.” Steve tossed it his way. Mike could hardly focus on the words being spoken between the exhibit of Will and the pain everywhere else.
Will caught the bat with ease and rushed ahead, gifting Mike the image of his exposed back. The slim muscles flexed as he raised the bat in position, lithe strength in motion.
Every movement pulled Mike in, every twist magnetic. His stomach knotted painfully, confusion and yearning indistinguishable.
The monster then burst into view, all claws and teeth and unstoppable hunger.
“WILL, LOOK OUT!” Mike screamed.
Will tightened his grip on the weapon he’d likely never even touched before and swung. Mike shielded his eyes, fearful that Will would meet the same fate as him.
But as soon as he first made contact with the demogorgon’s flesh, there was no doubting Will’s ability. The swing came fast, faster than Mike thought Will could ever be capable of. Wood cracked against its back with a sound Mike felt in his chest.
It was like he’d been born to yield that bat. Every swing and twist and twirl appeared effortless. It was coordinated, it was flashy, it was attractive, and it was hitting the beast where it hurt most.
He ducked and pivoted with lethal grace, the bat blazing like an extension of his body as it danced between his hands. The monster lashed out, but Will would be gone before claws could find him, already coming around for another hit.
Will wasn’t just surviving. He was winning.
Mike forgot to breathe. Again. Even through the pain, even with death possibly snarling five feet away, he couldn’t look away. This was doing something to him. Something he wasn’t ready for.
“Oh HELL yeah, little Byers!” Steve cheered, still figuring out how to effectively tie the bulky sweater around Mike’s crying thigh. But the excruciating agony of it all wasn’t so bad. Not when this was his view.
Will continued to out-do himself with every swing. He pressed the attack, forcing the creature back, his every movement radiating raw, desperate strength. It was nothing short of incredible.
But it didn't take long for Mike's awe contort into something sharp and ugly. The longer Will fought, the more his successes became a twisted reminder of Mike's failures.
He was nowhere near capable of what Will was doing. Fighting, dodging, striking, thriving.
Mike had barely managed to fire a clean shot in any of their past fights. His hands always trembled, breath always shook. Every time he picked up a weapon, he was always reminded of how foreign it felt in his hands. How little power he actually held.
Tonight was supposed to change that. But maybe things would never change. Maybe he would never be the hero.
And maybe Will could finally see that as he lied over here. Small, trembling, and useless.
What if this changed how he saw him forever?
The thoughts tangled in his brain like barbed wire, cutting deeper the more he tried to untangle them. He wanted to scream. To hit something. To disappear.
Instead, he stayed frozen, jaw clenched, torn between admiration and self-hatred as he watched the boy he loved be everything he wasn’t.
Steve tied off the last knot on his leg, snapping Mike back. “That good for now?”
“Oh,” Mike whispered, blinking himself into the moment. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Okay, stay here.”
As if he had a choice.
His eyes found Will again. Wild and fierce and so perfect and pure that Mike couldn't even feel justified in his jealousy.
Then came a scream. Will's scream. The worst sound in the world to Mike Wheeler's ears.
Will staggered, and Mike’s heart stopped. The demogorgon's claw had clipped his arm, sending the bat flying out of his hands. Blood streamed.
“WILL—!”
“BYERS, MOVE! I’M GETTING THE GUN!”
Mike’s throat burned as he shouted. “WILL, GET AWAY FROM THERE! RUN!”
Will sprinted when he got the chance, clutching his bicep tight as the red seeped through. He shouted something, but Mike couldn’t make out the words, just the pain in them. The sound cut deeper into Mike’s heart than the creature’s claws cut into his leg.
His upper body moved before his brain could catch up. He wrenched the shotgun off his back and shoved it into Steve’s hands before the shame of giving it up could fully hit him.
That was Mike’s chance, his weapon, his job. And it was gone. It was Steve’s, now.
His full attention was on Will, Steve merely existing in his peripheral. The older teen pulled the trigger for the first time, and the recoil sent him stumbling backward.
The shot missed terribly. The beast kept coming forward, but Will was faster.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit—” Steve’s voice trembled.
“Give it to me,” Will panted as he finally reached them, still grasping his arm.
Mike's heart sank when he saw that it was his right arm. That was his dominant one, the one that held every brushstroke and sketch Will had ever made.
“I’m a good shot.” Will heaved.
“Wh— really?”
Mike couldn't believe this idiot was questioning Will’s abilities again after what they'd just seen him do. By now, Mike was convinced he could do literally anything. If Will said he was gonna lasso the moon down from the sky, Mike would believe it.
Will somehow remained somewhat level-headed. “I am. I promise I am.”
“But your arm—“
“I’m fine." Will cut him off, already moving, even as tears from the pain welled up in his eyes. "Please?”
“Steve, just give it to him!” Mike snapped.
“Okay, okay!” Steve threw up his hands defensively and transferred the gun. Will wasted no time and hoisted it up like it weighed nothing. Mike knew otherwise. It was not light. His shoulders still ached after carrying it all day.
Will reloaded it like second nature and barely even took aim before, bam— the first shot slammed straight into the creature’s mouth.
Steve froze in shock. Mike didn’t. He’d known Will would be lethal behind a gun, known that his dad used to take him shooting all the time.
He’d just never imagined it would be this breathtaking.
Will was like a machine. He fired shell after shell, not a single one missing. Will’s jaw was tight, and with every recoil came a deep sound that was a half-grunt, half-wince from the pain. The noises sparked something in Mike’s chest, and in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
He took time to stare. Minor scapes scattered Will’s face, and his hung damp with sweat as the blood from his arm slowly trickled down the side of his ribs, then down his jeans. His slender muscles tightened through the intense motion and engagement that came from each shot, his noises closer to a crying yell now.
He looked rugged and beautiful and more alive than Mike had ever seen him. Still somehow so soft and tender and kind underneath it all.
And he didn’t stop until the demogorgon finally collapsed at the end of the alleyway. The piercing scream rattled the windows and echoed through their ears. It was for sure dead.
Silence followed, heavy and unreal.
Mike could feel Steve’s eyes on him, likely looking to revel in the display of brilliance they’d both just witnessed, but Mike paid him no mind. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from Will— breathing hard, shoulders heaving, skin flushed with heat and blood and life.
Will let the shotgun fall, clattering loudly against the hard ground. Then his knees gave, his hands bracing against the pavement. Like his body had finally caught up to all the distress it had been under and finally given out.
“Will!” Mike's leg screamed at him to stay still, to stay down. But he forced himself to claw forward, inch by inch, despite the searing pain. It didn’t matter. He had to get to him.
“Will,” he gasped out, fingers curling into the asphalt to drag himself closer.
“Jesus Christ, man. You okay? Your arm fine?” Steve said.
Will gripped his bicep, eyes stuck to the ground. “Mmm, fine.” His voice had no trace of tears, but droplets fell from his eyes like a sprinkling rainfall, his body's natural reaction from that much over-exertion.
Steve knelt beside him, the place Mike was supposed to be occupying. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“My dad.” Will huffed.
“Well, he did a damn good job. That was insane. I didn't know you had any of that in you."
Will only nodded, still dazed. Probably reeling over the fact that Steve had just implied that Lonnie Byers had ever done a ‘damn good job’ at anything.
It only fueled Mike to get there faster. And by some miracle, he finally made it over. His hands gripped Will’s shoulders despite the tremor in his own arms. “Will— oh my god, Will, are you sure you’re okay?”
Will slightly flinched at the unexpected touch. “M-Mike? Why are you moving, why aren’t you resting—?”
“Are you okay?”
A small yet genuine smile bloomed on Will’s tear-streaked face. “Yeah, Mike. Just a cut.”
Mike smiled back, dizzy from relief. Steve dug through Will’s discarded backpack and tossed over bandages. “We shouldn’t stay here.”
“But that was the last one,” Mike argued weakly.
“Yeah, but the two of you need treatment. Can you both walk?”
Will looked at Mike. His call.
“Yeah. Totally.” Mike forced the words out, forcing himself to believe it. He could do this. He could be strong. He had to.
“You sure?” Will’s eyes were concerned and kind. And impossibly pretty, as always.
“Mhmm.” Mike insisted as he got on his feet, but ohhhh lord. This thing hurt like motherfucker.
He managed five steps before his leg betrayed him completely, buckling hard enough to pitch him forward against the ground. He bit down the excruciating pain.
“Mike—“ Will's voice wavered.
Mike forced himself up again on pure adrenaline to try again, but the muscles refused him. He went down harder this time, cheek scuffing across the ground in a burning scrape. The stinging overwhelmed him, along with the shame.
He really couldn’t do it.
“Mike, enough,” Will muttered, already kneeling beside him. “Here, let me see it.”
“I’m FINE,” Mike snapped, more out of frustration than anything else.
“Stop lying.” Will’s voice cracked as his gentle hands pulled back the blood-soaked fabric. His fingertips lightly grazed Mike’s skin, and the contact made him flinch, but not from pain.
Real tears pooled in Will’s eyes all over again, “Oh my god, Mike…”
Mike looked. He almost wished he hadn’t. The sight was horrendous, flesh ripped, blood everywhere. It was this nightmarish dark crimson color, and the gash was deep, far deeper than he thought he could endure. Every pulse of his heart made it throb violently, as if mocking him.
“Shit. It looks even worse now.” Steve knelt down to re-tie the sweater around, twice as rushed and half as deliberate as last time. The result was agonizing. Mike couldn’t help but yelp at the stabbing sensation.
“I’ll run and get my car, then I can drive you guys back. Are you okay to wait by that building until then?”
Will nodded for the both of them.
“Okay.” With that, Steve started running, “signal if anything else comes! I’ll be fast!” He disappeared around the corner soon after.
Mike stared at the building he referred to. It was at least 200 feet away. The distance would’ve been futile in normal circumstances, but right now, getting over there may as well have been the most daunting task in the world.
Mike almost felt like crying. Never had he felt this weak and pathetic.
“I can’t walk,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I can’t— fuck, I can’t even stand.” He could feel his breathing become less and less controlled. “I don’t know what to do—”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Will’s voice grounded him, steady but urgent and emotional. He shrugged on his backpack, shoved the bandages into Mike’s hand. “Hold these. I’ll help you.”
Will’s injured arm slid beneath his legs, and he looked down at Mike, searching his eyes. Mike’s heart slammed against his ribs. Was he about to—
His other arm looped behind his back and around his torso. “Grab my shoulder.”
Will was about to carry him.
Mike did as he was told, and before he knew it, he was getting lifted off the ground. Will tugged him closely to his chest and tried to hide his grimace as his legs struggled to lift the weight of both of them, all while his arm must’ve been crying out in pain.
“Nnggh— ah. Fuck, okay,” he exhaled, barely audible, under his breath. Every sound was rasping and intimate, raw with effort. It may have been the hottest thing Mike had ever heard. He sure hoped Will couldn’t feel the rush flow through him.
His body was now pressed flush against Will’s bare skin, and it was too much. The body heat, the tautness of his subtle muscles working under him, the sharp inhale of breath as he struggled to support both their weights. Every motion and strain made Mike ache with want.
He then became painfully aware of Will’s sweat, the way the fabric of his jeans rested against strong, warm skin, the shallow tremor of effort in his injured arm. It was overwhelming beyond description.
Soon, Will was assured enough in his stance to adjust his grip. Mike could feel the struggle lessen beneath him, and like all of Will’s motions, it made his heart flutter wildly.
“Okay." Will exhaled. "I got you.”
Mike’s hands clutched to his skin, tracing the line of his shoulders, feeling the smooth contraction of muscle under his fingers. Every inhale Will drew made his chest rise against Mike’s, every exhale shivered through him like electricity. He wanted to sink further into him, to memorize every contour of his body.
It was a little too perfect to be real. Being held in Will’s arms, strong and steady, gazing into his benevolent eyes that flicked down to check on him every few seconds. For a moment, he almost believed it was a dream.
Then pain shot up his thigh like a cruel reminder.
Right. He couldn’t fucking walk.
The illuson shattered. And just like that, the familiar weight of inadequacy crept back in, only stronger. He suddenly felt impossibly small, weaker than he ever believed he’d be.
He definitely wasn’t the hero here. He wasn’t even the backup or sidekick.
He was dead weight in Will’s arms, the fucking damsel in distress in a fight he should’ve helped win.
Even if a part burried deep inside of him liked being this close to Will, he couldn't help but burn with embarrassment and humiliation. And still that desperate, aching want that he had no right to feel.
And he didn’t understand how Will kept preserving. He was hurting, bleeding, using every bit of strength to hold him up, yet still— still he looked steady. Capable.
Mike bet that he was pitying him.
The thought made his eyes sting. He squeezed them shut, willing the tears away.
“Shit,” Mike muttered under his breath, partly in pain, partly in awe as he tried to refocus again on how good Will looked right now. How good he felt against him.
Then, Will’s eyes caught his, steady and soft, yet still intense. “Almost there,” he murmured, voice low and grounding, and Mike felt himself unravel further.
When they finally reached the wall, Will set him down as if he were made of glass. It was too much. The care, the tenderness, the complete absence of judgment that Mike had expected and deserved. It almost killed him.
Mike tried to keep it together, but the pain came searing again. It was especially brutal this time, full force and sharp, and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He lost it, right then and there.
He just… sobbed. Couldn’t stop. Couldn’t hold it in anymore. The shame, the physical agony, the crushing weight of his helplessness, all of it.
Will’s hands were on his shoulders, voice panicked. “Mike, what is it?”
“Everything.” The cries tore out of him, raw and unstoppable. “I’m just so— just— pathetic. Everything about me, I’m— I’m fucking weak. ”
Will’s face made it look like the words were physically paining him to hear. “No! Are you serious? You’re the strongest person I know.”
“I’m not, though!” He could hardly get a breath in from the hyperventilating. "I’m not strong like you. I can’t fight, can’t shoot, can’t even stand—”
“Who cares?” Will's voice rose. “You’re the one in charge— you know how to plan, to problem solve, to lead us— ”
“Yeah, cause I did a great job leading back there, huh? Helplessly sprawled out on the ground? Forcing you to handle it alone?” The sarcasm died under another sob. “I was useless.”
Will looked heartbroken. “Mike, don’t do that. That wasn’t your fault.”
“But it was. I should’ve—“
“It was an accident,” he could hear Will’s voice wavering, “and it all worked out, okay? I was fine—”
“That’s exactly it, though!” Mike had no reason to yell, but he couldn’t help it. “You didn’t need me back there.” His voice cracked, fragile. “I’m just…”
“What?” Will urged him, impossibly gentle.
“I’m just scared that one day, you won’t need me at all.”
Will turned sharp with feeling, almost like he’d been offended. He just stared at him. “How could you think that?”
Mike exhaled hopelessly and hung his head.
He could feel Will tighten his grip around his shoulders. “I need you, Mike. I’ll always need you— hey. Look at me.”
Mike’s heart nearly exploded out of his chest. He looked.
“None of this happens without you, okay?” Wills eyes were somehow delicate and firm at the same time. “You got us here. You kept us together.”
Mike sniffled. “But I didn’t save you.”
Another look of genuine hurt crossed Will’s face. “Mike… you’ve been saving me since I was a little kid. How can you not see that?” More tears were falling now. “Do you— do you even know how much I look up to you? How much you mean?”
Mike shook his head. Will shook his shoulders until their eyes locked again.
“I’ll need you forever.” He stared, unwavering. “Promise me that you believe that, and won’t ever forget it.”
Mike stared back. He knew in that moment that this wasn’t pity. This was truth.
He nodded as the sobs began to slow. “…Yeah. Promise.”
Will smiled through his tears. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
Mike felt his breath catch. “Me neither.” He instinctively reached up to wipe the wetness from Will’s face away. He let his fingers linger far too long, savoring even the smallest bit of warmth and intimacy.
Every detail of Will continued to overwhelm him as he did so. He could see every spot and freckle, every toned crevice of chest and arm, every shifting shade of green and brown mixing in his irises, along with every scruff and scrape and bruise and cut that only made him more perfect. His breathing was still steady, and his hands still felt radiant over his shoulders.
It was intoxicating. Crushing. Still somewhat shaming. Yet utterly perfect in every way.
Mike suddenly became deeply unsure of how he ever let himself lose this.
He used to push Will away, all because he’d been too scared to do the opposite and get too close. But being ‘too close’ was all he wanted now, and he’d be damned if he lost Will again.
And then, before he could think, the words just fell out of him: “I love you.”
I love you. Three words he used to lose sleep over, now said with ease, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Will’s eyes widened at the confession, but not in fear. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t run. He just smiled. “I love you too. So much.” His hands squeezed Mike’s shoulders, and the chaos of the world was temporarily held at bay by the few inches between them.
Mike could hardly believe what this was doing to his body and mind. It was becoming all too real. Too close.
But it could still be closer. That was now his one and only desire, to lean in until nothing separated them.
Mike felt every shift, every tremor in Will’s fingers, every beat of his heart through the solid warmth of his chest. They were so close now, so close to melting into each other.
The loopiness of the pain was clearly getting to him, making him looser and nearly unwilling to resist leaning into the touch.
But the last remaining bits of logic in his brain stopped him from doing anything more. They had just put their lives on the line. This was not the time to put his heart on the line too.
Perhaps there never would be time for that.
Mike let out a long, pained sigh. He mentally steadied his voice and prepared to end the moment.
But then Will’s forehead softly collided with his. “Mike,” he whispered. His eyes were closed but undeniably present, somehow still seeing him.
The touch sent flutters down Mike’s spine. He didn’t feel real, unable to comprehend the beauty in front of him. It wasn’t just the way Will looked, but the way he was.
And god, how badly Mike wanted him to be more than his best friend.
“Will…” The name carried every word Mike had never said, every bit of longing, every ache of months and years compressed into a single moment.
They breathed together. Fleeting seconds stretched into eternity. Mike’s hands traced every line he’d been dreaming of. He wanted more, more of everything, but fear still rooted him in place.
His eyes then fluttered shut as he felt Will’s painterly fingers curl slightly against his shoulders, the faintest tremble in them. And when he finally re-opened them, he found that Will was already gazing into them, serene as ever.
Mike’s mind spun. He had only one desire now, and that was to lean in until nothing separated them anymore. But he couldn't. He couldn't ruin this, he couldn't push, he couldn't—
But then Will moved. He leaned in, hesitantly but still with a sense of real drive and want.
Mike couldn’t even think about what came next when Will had already un-blurred the complicated lines between them.
He kissed him.
Mike’s breath evaporated. Will’s lips were warm, urgent, and real, and disbelief flooded Mike so completely it almost hurt. He pressed forward, matching the drive but still holding back, unable to fully shake the years of repression.
But it soon became clear that this wasn’t some fluke or mistake, and that those years were long gone.
Will had wanted this too, just as fiercely as Mike had.
He felt weightless, yet every shift, every brush, every movement from Will anchored him down in the moment. Will’s hands slid from his shoulders to the back of his hair as Mike found his waist, gripping as if he’d never let go.
It was like an impossible reverie, one he never wanted to wake up from. It also wasn’t ‘perfect’ in the true sense of the word— their lips were chapped and salty with blood, Mike’s entire body was on the brink of shutting down, and the angle was never quite right. But it was real. And it would be theirs forever.
Their breaths fell into rhythm until they were the same. A slew of soft, embarrassing noises escaped Mike that he didn’t have the will to suppress. He’d been kissing since he was twelve years old and never known this is what it could feel like.
Now he had a pair of strong yet gentle hands brushing his face and messing with his hair. He had the solid warmth of Will’s chest under his fingertips, the sharp line of his jaw moving against his own, every inch fueled by more passion than he’d ever known.
In short, he had everything. He had Will.
The kiss deepened, lingering, impossible to measure in time.
Mike’s hands roamed, tentative and hungry, tracing shoulders, spine, the curve of his waist, memorizing every shiver, every subtle muscle flex, every inch of Will’s body pressed to his.
He moaned softly again, embarrassed by the sound but unable to stop, lost entirely to the tidal wave of sensation and emotion. Will’s lips moved against his, yielding and claiming in equal measure.
Then he felt a tear that wasn’t his own slide down his cheek as Will’s lips curved into a smile against his. Mike broke the kiss just enough to cup Will’s inimitable face in both hands. His golden boy.
“You okay?” He asked, voice trembling, back on the brink of tears himself. He stared at Will like he was the last person left in the world, maybe the only one who mattered.
Will nodded with the widest smile Mike had ever seen on him, another tear sliding free from the other eye. “Yeah.” His breath came out in a shaky rush. “Just… surreal. You… You don’t even know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
Mike’s throat caught. He remembered the years of knowing looks, hands that lingered too long, hugs that begged to be something more. Near-confessions, half-smiles, moments where they almost said everything but didn’t. It had all been building to this.
“I think I do know,” Mike whispered, brushing Will’s tears away with his thumb.
Will’s gaze softened. “So you— you mean it, then?”
“Yes. A thousand times yes— you think I would’ve kissed you back if I didn’t?” Mike’s smile broke through his tears.
Will laughed, a little broken, a little breathless, still blinking away the tears. “Guess not.”
“Will, I love you.” Now that he’s said it once, it felt like the only thing worth saying. He couldn’t wait to say it a thousand more times.
Will laughed in a mix of joy and disbelief. He answered with another soft kiss before settling beside him. “I love you too.”
He melted into the contact as Will rested his head against his shoulder. Mike smiled to himself at the gesture. Sure, Will may be stronger. But Mike was still taller, and probably always would be. He’d treasure that small truth forever.
They sat there like that for a while, not moving, not speaking, just breathing in time. Mike could feel Will’s heartbeat against his arm, steady and sure, and he found himself matching it without even trying. His leg still throbbed with pain, but it was dulled now, muted under the overwhelming tranquility of having this.
It was clear Will wasn’t free from his pain either, but he looked equally at peace. And if there was one thing Will Byers deserved, it was peace.
He closed his eyes for a moment, willing time to slow down. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this, taking mental pictures of every slight adjustment to later replay in his head, over and over every night.
Then, from somewhere down the street, car tires crunched over gravel and asphalt.
Steve.
Mike didn’t move. He didn’t want to. Even as the sound drew closer, he kept his head where it was, pretending for just a few seconds longer that it was only them.
But Will nudged him gently. “We’ll talk more later, yeah?”
Mike nodded. “Yeah. A lot more.”
They slowly peeled apart. Not fully letting go. Just easing.
As Steve turned the corner, Will pushed himself to his feet and pulled Mike up with him. It was a challenge, but with his arm slung around Will's shoulder, he was able to stand and step forward. Progress.
Steve rolled the window halfway down, eyes narrowing. “What the– why didn’t you use the bandages?!”
They looked at each other, both still covered in blood. Right. Those could’ve been helpful.
“Sorry,” Will said, quickly scooping them up and continuing to help Mike toward the car.
“We were just–”
“Nuh-uh-uh—” Steve got out and stopped them before they could get too close. “You’re not getting in my car without putting those on.”
Mike and Will exchanged a quiet laugh meant only for them. As Steve wrapped each of them up in turn, the one waiting would watch the other, eyes crinkling in secret smiles and silent words.
If Steve caught on, he didn’t say a thing. Mike would forever be grateful for that.
“Hey,” Will said quietly, once they were in the backseat.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for saying it first.”
Mike’s chest swelled. “Thanks for saying it back.”