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Terror unlike anything Mike had ever quite felt before clawed at his throat, near froze his muscles in place as he stumbled back, arms raising in a futile attempt to defend himself. Every one of his senses seemed to be turned to the max, dialed so high he could feel every individual rain drop as they pelted down on him, could hear the screams surrounding him, the echo of Vecna's voice, the crackle of flames, could smell the faint ozone in the air, could see every tooth in the Demagorgon's mouth, every drop of blood glistening on its skin, its gums, every inch of it. And above all, Will. Will, just beyond it. Out in the wide open, crumpled, trembling, and Mike was going to die and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't save Will. He couldn't save himself. He was going to die and god, there was so much he hadn't said, so much he hadn't done. Hell, nobody but him and El even knew they had been broken up for the better part of a year. And he was going to die, and Will was still in danger and–
The Demagorgon bore down on him, its glinting teeth just inches away, snarls echoing and bouncing off the pavement, surrounding Mike like a physical cloud of sound, and he couldn't breathe. He was going to die, they were all going to die. His mom and dad were in the hospital from this thing, it got them already, tore at their throats and chests, left them bleeding but alive. Something told him he wouldn't survive this like them, wouldn't be spared instant death the same way. His arms were a futile shield against the hundreds of razor sharp teeth he could still see ripping into Bob, there was nothing he could do to stop it, but he didn't want to just let it kill him. He had to– he had to try something, he had to–
It took him entirely too long to process that even though just second ago the Demagorgon had been less than a foot away from him, in the air, falling towards him, mouth gaping open, claws extended, reaching to rip out his throat as it had his mom’s, nothing had happened. Mike was still standing there, rain sticking his hair to his forehead, dripping into his eyes, alive. His eyes snapped open—when had he even closed them?—and the Demagorgon was still there, right in front of him, so close he coukd reach out and touch it. Except, it was frozen, stuck mid air like time had simply stopped. Only, the rain still fell, the fires still crackled, whimpers still echoed across the base. The Demagorgon was floating, stuck, unmoving, and Mike was still standing there and– Will.
Cracking—splintering and so, so loud that it seemed to echo in Mike's ears—cut through the sound of the rain, the crackling fires, the whimpers and the screams, and the Demagorgon was crumbling, bones breaking, tearing. It seemed almost as if it was being pulled in on itself, limbs contorting, twisting until they gave way. There was something familiar about it, like something he'd seen in a picture or a dream that he couldnt quite place. The Demagorgon hit the ground with a crunch and a thud, water splashing up from the steadily growing puddles and there was Will, standing there, arms outstretched, eyes wide and–
Something in Mike seemed to just break open at the sight of him, at the slow lowering of Will’s arms, the quick blinking as he returned to normal, the slow trickle of blood from his nose down his upper lip. Will– Will had powers. And he'd just saved Mike's life, ripped apart the Demagorgon that was about to eat his face, as if that was something he'd been able to do before. Some part of him had known, buried deep inside with every other thing that he couldn’t think about too much, that there was more to Will's connection with Vecna than they thought. His chest clenched, stomach tied into knots, his breath stuttered. Will lifted a hand slowly to his face, smudged the blood away, and Mike just couldn't help the way his lips stretched into a grin, awe and something he couldn't quite put a name to coursing through him. Because just– Will.
The fire flickering around him made him look ethereal, beautiful, lit with orange and red and yellow, morphing across his face, the rain glistening in the air. And Mike was stumbling towards him before he could even fully process that he was moving, that nothing was blocking his path anymore. His body ached, protested the very concept of movement, but he had to get to Will. Will who had saved him. Will who was just standing there, almost frozen after wiping away the blood from his nose. Will who had always been there, even when Mike didn't deserve it. Will who seemed to sway the closer Mike got to him.
Mike just barely got his arms around him before Will's knees gave out, collapsing under him as he went near limp in Mike's grasp. He blinked rapidly, gaze snapping from place to place until it landed on him, hazel eyes looking into his with so much relief and pain and fear all at once. The feeling welling in his chest, growing, spreading, he knew what it was. He wasn't as stupid as people seemed to think, and Will– he was just–
"Mike," Will murmured, still looking at him with those hazel eyes that seemed to glimmer with the light of the fires around them, and Mike could feel his grin grow despite himself. The world was falling apart, even more than it already had in the last year and a half, but Will had saved him, Will was here, and he was looking at Mike like that.
"Will, you–" There were so many things he wanted, needed to say, but nothing else came but his name. "Will."
"Are you– Mike, are you okay?" Will's hands fumbled clumsily as he reached for Mike, brushing his fingers over his shoulders, his arms, his chest, like he was looking for something. They trembled as they did so, water dripping down and pooling in his palms from the still pouring rain, and Mike reached for him, catching his hands with his own as he lowered them both to the ground. Water soaked even more into the knees of his jeans but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
"Am I– You– You saved me. You saved my life, Will. Are you okay? You–” Mike wasn't quite sure how to phrase it, wasn't sure of the best way to ask him about or mention his powers, and instead let the words die on his tongue. Will seemed to know what he was saying though, his hands twitching in Mike's, eyes flickering over to the Demagorgon by where Mike had just been with something like satisfaction. He let out a sigh, but Mike couldn't tell if it was relief or exhaustion or something else, eyes returning to look up at him. His hand tightened around Will's, wanting to say something else, the words that had been caught in the back of his throat as the Demagorgon loomed over him, feelings he'd been trying to pick apart for so long he'd forgottenwhen he started.
Water splashed up from another person's shoes right next to them, cutting through the bubble Mike had deluded himself into thinking existed around them. Joyce skidded to the ground next to them, hands grasping at Will, and Mike– Mike let her pull him towards her and away from him because this was Will's mom and what right did he have to hold Will close instead of her?
Her fingers brushed through Will's hair, stroking it back, cupping his cheeks between her hands, murmuring words that Mike couldn't quite hear. But Will didn't let go of his hands, just squeezed them tighter and met Mike's eyes over her shoulder as she tugged him against her chest, an emotion shining back at him that Mike only just then realized he'd seen before, in the glances they'd shared for years and pretended they didn't. The same emotion he felt coursing through his very core when Will had grinned at him in the field earlier, shoving his shoulder, when he looked up and Will was standing there, blood dripping from his nose. And for the first time, it struck him what it really was, what he'd started to think he might be incapable of: love. He loved Will. And… And maybe Will loved him too.
He squeezed Will's hands back, silently trying to convey what he meant, what he couldn't say with Joyce there. And Will's lips twitched into a bright, exhausted grin. It felt like a beam of light in the darkness growing around them, the shadow spreading further and further across Hawkins. The fantasy of after, of safety, of peace, an impossible possibility he ached to get for all of them, resurfaced, and for a second, holding Will's hand, meeting his tired gaze, he felt like maybe it wasn't quite such an impossible thing to hope for. Even with the pain that was growing from a dull throbbing to a fierce, near stabbing pain across his back, his shoulders, even with the world crashing around them, even with Vecna's re-emergence, Mike felt a sense of hope he couldn't quite remember having felt in a long time.