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Beyond the grotesque scene of broken flesh and bone before him, Will Byers kneels on the ground and wipes the blood from his nose. Time, which moments ago seemed to triple in speed, has now frozen entirely.
He’s beautiful.
Somehow, the thought slips through the hazy noise in Mike’s head, through the pounding ache in his skull. Around them, the world has sunk into an eerie, unnatural silence, broken only by the crackling of dying fires.
He’s so beautiful. And he’s collapsing in on himself, like a star burning too bright too quick.
Will’s body buckles in exhaustion, and Mike’s feet take him where he needs to be before he even thinks to move. He drops to his knees beside him, arms scooping under his shoulders to lift him upright, letting Will’s torso sag against his lap.
“Will, can you hear me?”
Will’s eyes flutter. There are tear tracks beneath them.
“Mike?” he whispers, still breathless.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Mike says. He’s smiling, wide, delirious. “That was amazing. Holy shit.”
The gentle smile Will manages in return makes something inside Mike tremble. His own internal foundation, much like the ground beneath them, is cracked open, exposed, raw.
But it’s just Will here with him. And Mike doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse.
“Thanks,” Will murmurs with a small, exhausted laugh. His eyes slip shut again.
Panic spikes sharp in Mike’s chest; he gives Will a quick shake. “Hey, you okay? Stay with me, yeah?”
Will nods, but his eyes stay closed. “Mhm. Tired. ’M okay.”
Across the ruined clearing, Joyce is slowly getting to her feet, staring around in shock. When Mike catches her expression, it’s one of dazed bewilderment. So he’s not the only one who had no idea what Will could do.
And Mike feels stupid for it, like if he’d just listened better, paid more attention—
“Mike.” Will’s voice, soft but clear, pulls him back. This time Will’s eyes are open, searching his.
“Yeah?” Mike breathes.
Will seems to be looking for something in his face—Mike doesn’t know what, but he holds his breath, hoping Will finds it. And after a few seconds, something settles in Will’s gaze, like he has.
“I think you were right, earlier,” he says.
“What?” Mike blinks. There are a hundred things he might’ve said earlier, and none of them feel applicable.
“When you called me a sorcerer,” Will reminds him. He huffs a weak laugh. “I guess you weren’t too far off.”
Mike laughs too, a choked, wet sound that surprises him. He hadn’t realized he was getting emotional.
He opens his mouth to speak, but Joyce is suddenly there—bloody, shaking—and wrapping Will into her arms. Unlike Mike, she has no trouble showing exactly what she feels.
Will melts into her hug, small and soft in a way Mike’s never quite let himself notice before. Will is beautiful.
When this moment breaks, they’ll get out of here. They’ll find Robin and Lucas and the others. They’ll get to safety. Mike will make sure Will actually rests for once.
And maybe it’s not the right time for grand revelations—not in the middle of a war—but he doesn’t want to shove this one aside the way he usually does. Not this time.
As Joyce finally pulls back, Will’s eyes flick to Mike’s, just for a moment, and Mike knows. Whatever this is, he isn’t letting it go.