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Mike watched Will fall to his hands and knees in slow motion.
At least, that’s what it felt like. It was like he was trapped underwater, the sound of his pounding heart filling his ears as he was submerged deeper into the depths. Fire raged, bodies lay scattered across the floor, but all Mike could see was Will, a powerful force amongst the chaos.
Will, who just killed a Demogorgon with his mind. Will, who looked seconds away from passing out.
Mike started taking steps toward him, more the natural magnetic pull Will had on him than actual thought. His legs, feeling like jelly after being so close to death, stumbled weakly, threatening to give out under him as he inched slowly closer. His body clearly wasn’t ready to move, still frozen with adrenaline. But Will needed him, so his heart found a way.
The pounding in his ears started to lessen, and that’s when he heard an odd shuffling that was most definitely not from Will, who was struggling to hold himself up on his hands and knees. His head was slow, still stuck underwater, when he turned to see a soldier a little ways away from Will. The man’s left leg was shredded, blood smearing underneath him as he frantically scooted backwards with his hands. Away from Will, Mike realized.
Painfully sluggish, Mike shuffled closer towards them, eyes struggling to flick between the two people. He was starting to think he’d gotten a concussion from the blast, because the world had never felt so blurry.
“Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—” the soldier wheezed to himself, eyes locked on Will’s collapsed form. “H-how many of these freaks are there?”
And Mike was slow, but the dread building in his stomach was fast, a growing, coiling snake that was slithering its way up his throat, and he knew something bad was coming. He was proven right when the soldier reached out desperately to the body of a fallen comrade and gripped something.
A gun. Why does this guy need a gun? Mike thought stupidly. Will just killed the only monster left.
But then the man was weakly lifting the weapon, trembling as he tried to raise it to his shoulder and take aim. Aiming right at Will.
Lightning fast, Mike was shot back into his body. The world wasn’t slow anymore— the flames surrounding him were crackling wildly, the wind was chilling against his face, and there was a man pointing a gun at Will.
Will, who was still shaking on all fours, not noticing the barrel staring him down.
Mike was charging before he knew it, sprinting across the battlefield. The soldier, fingers struggling to latch onto the trigger, only had a second to register Mike’s racing footsteps when Mike barreled into him, slamming the gun to the floor. The man screamed, and Mike recognized distantly that he was crushing his torn leg as he pinned the soldier to the ground. He could feel the ripped muscle and sinew against his pants as he ground it to the floor. But that didn’t matter, because the man, in his fear, had clasped his fingers tightly around the gun, keeping a strong hold as Mike fought to keep it on the ground. It was wet, and his fingers became stained with red as he struggled to maintain hold of it. Blood. The sensation was spreading on his knees, too, as the blood from his opponent pooled underneath him.
Muffled under the roar of the wind and scrape of the gun against the metal flooring, Mike thought he heard his name. The man’s fingers fumbled around the gun, and Mike’s whole body jolted as a shot rang out from under his fingertips, the shrieking sound ricocheting across the metal floor. His heart froze, dropping to his stomach. He heard his name again, louder this time, curling softly in his ears like a prayer.
Mike wound his fingers tightly around the gun, gave one last firm tug, and wrenched it from the man’s grasp. He looked down at the man and saw blood on his teeth as he gasped in pain. They were frozen for a short second, Mike holding the gun between them. But then the man flicked his gaze back in Will’s direction, and panic overtook his eyes. He sat up abruptly, thrusting his arms out towards the gun in Mike’s hands, the tips of his fingers just barely hooking onto the sleeve of Mike's jacket.
Mike didn’t even think. He raised the gun and thwacked the man hard across the temple. The soldier crumpled back like a rag doll, skull slamming jarringly against the floor. The skin where Mike struck him was torn, a fresh gash sending blood beading down the side of the man's face. Knocked out cold, but still breathing wheezily. Mike stared at the blood that now coated his calves, streaming unrelentingly from the man. He wouldn’t be breathing for long.
Mike’s finger trembled around the gun still in his hands, smearing the coating of crimson. It slipped out of his grasp easily as his hold grew lax, clanging to the floor next to the still man beneath him. He took in a sharp, shaky breath, and then another. Fuck, his head felt like a boulder, but he fought to keep it raised.
He heard his name again, and this time, it was clear as day. It dragged him back to Earth again, and he flung himself away from the unconscious man, twisting his body harshly to face the voice.
It was Will, in the same position Mike last saw him in, his expression a mixture of disbelief and asleep. “Mike,” he said again, like it was the only word he could muster.
“Will,” Mike breathed, because it was the only one he could. “Will!”
Mike crawled frenziedly towards him, ignoring the way his palms tear against the gravel and shoes pool with another man’s blood. He pushed himself over some dead man’s leg uncaringly, shoving the body’s outstretched arm out of the way to clear his path. Yes, he was trampling over a dead man, but Mike couldn’t even pretend to care— he needed to get to Will.
Then he was right in front of him, gripping his shoulders firmly. “Will! Will, are you okay? Did the shot hit you?”
He pulled Will up onto his knees, hands moving wildly across his shoulders, his chest, checking for bullet holes and torn flesh. Eventually, his hands came up to rest on either side of Will’s face, thumbs spreading blood against his cheekbones.
“Tell me you’re okay,” he begged weakly. “Please, please, tell me.”
Will’s eyes were half-lidded, staring up at Mike through his eyelashes. There was something… intense about it. Captivating. Mike found himself forgetting his own question until Will opened his mouth to answer.
“I’m okay,” Will assured, voice rough and raspy. He tilted his head in Mike’s grasp, causing Mike’s fingers to slip into his brown locks slightly. “You just— you just knocked that guy out.”
“He was trying to hurt you. Which is stupid, considering you just saved my life right in front of him.”
“Yeah,” Will said, eyes slightly out of focus. “I did, huh?” He flicked his gaze back to Mike and gave the smallest, tantalizing smile. “And you just saved mine. Guess we’re even now.”
Mike laughed, a choked, wet sound. He didn’t realize there were tears in his eyes until they were threatening to spill down his cheeks, and he fought to keep them down. He let one hand slip down to rest on Will’s neck, bloody thumb pressing into the dip of his collarbone. His heartbeat was strong under his fingertips, a comforting thump, thump, thump.
“Not even close,” he insisted, sniffing harshly. “I tackled a guy. You killed a Demogorgon with your mind. No way I’m ever matching that.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll try anyway,” Will replied, and something about the tone of his voice made Mike flush imperceptibly. The gaze of those hazel eyes on him almost made his heart pound louder than when a monster was charging at him full force. It was overwhelming. Mike gripped his face tighter anyway, afraid to have him too far.
The heaviness of his head caught up to him, and he couldn’t help but collapse forward, resting his forehead against Will’s. The boy gasped slightly at the contact, but hesitantly reached his own hand up to brush against the side of Mike’s face. The feeling of his fingers just barely grazing the skin of Mike’s temple felt like an electric shock, and he knew it wasn’t because of the bruise surely blooming on the side of his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his thumb a little harder against Will’s collarbone, just to make sure he was really there. Under the blood Mike had coated him in from his frantic grasping, his skin was soft. He wanted to press the rest of his skin against it, see if that softness could rub off on him.
Mike’s lips parted, tongue running against them absentmindedly. He sensed a sharp, metallic taste. He went to speak — what, he wasn’t really sure — when another voice broke through their peaceful moment.
It was Joyce, of course, finally rushing over to join them. She pulled Will’s body towards her, separating their foreheads, and Mike, with his lowered inhibitions, whined at the loss of contact. He settled for curling a hand around Will’s sleeve while Joyce cradled her son, spluttering a mantra of, “You’re okay, I’ve got you, you’re safe now,” expelling from the worried mother.
Mike watched Will finally give in to the exhaustion, going slack in his mother’s hold. It was as he watched Joyce’s hands brush against an unconscious Will’s hair, that he whipped his head around at his surroundings and remembered their predicament.
“We— we gotta get him out of here,” Mike gasped, shuffling forward so he could slip both arms around Will’s waist. “Mrs. Byers, we gotta go, one of them— they tried to shoot him, he’s not safe here.”
Together, they pulled Will up and adjusted him, so each of his arms were thrown over their shoulders while they clung to his waist. Will’s head lolled to Mike’s side, and Mike felt his hot breath fan against his neck. He flushed again and scolded himself for it.
As they stumbled out of the base together, tripping over Will’s motionless feet, Mike slipped a hand up to rest against Will’s chest, just over his strong, beating heart. The blood was starting to dry under his fingernails, and the smell of metal surrounded him, clinging to his clothes.
He took one last glance and the soldier he left prone and vulnerable on the battlefield, moonlight glinting off the exposed bone of his leg like a cruel guiding light. Distantly, he noticed the man’s chest wasn’t moving anymore.
He pressed his shaking fingers firmer against Will’s heart, feeling that steady rise and fall, and all he felt was sweet, shameless relief.