Chapter Text
It had to be adrenaline. Not from the collapsed form of the Demogorgon before him, finally settled crumpled and slimey. It's skin shone both from the damp of the upside down that naturally coated their skin and the blood, still illuminated by the fire and remaining flood lights stationed around the MAC-Z. Fragments of bone splintered out, torn from muscle and sinew. Yet it wasn't the gruesome sight that made his stomach lurch, knotting uncomfortably. It was Will.
Quiet, soft spoken Will. Will who was quick with a whitty comeback and trusted Mike that syrup on eggs was perfectly acceptable. If he hadn't witnessed it first hand he'd not have believed it. Since they'd got him back, Joyce had kept a close watch. Never letting Will stay out too late, nor join in on runs deemed too dangerous. Babying him to a degree but Mike knew why. He got it, they all did. Will had been the shortest of them, a waifish doe eyed kid only just coming back to life once Joyce had thrown Lonnie out. Will never explained the full extent of what had happened but he didn't need to. He never needed to tell Mike because they just seemed to exist, knowing each other so deeply.
That was part of why Mike could only stare, some new form of excitement ignited. Like the first time he'd seen El use her powers only less expected. A strange girl in the woods having powers seemed to make sense to a pre-teen Mike but Will? His best friend wiping that same tell tale trail of blood sparked his imagination tenfold.
He'd been right.
Something seemed to shift as hazel eyes came back into focus, finally tearing away from where they had been fixed on him. As if to make sure he was alive and it wasn't an illusion. Mike scrambled to his feet, finding them quicker than Joyce who was still trying to sit up. He knew what was coming, not from past experiences from Elevens low battery but because he'd seen Will's eyes widen, his pallor turning ashen before he swayed.
"Will!" Long limbs scrambled as Mike tried to get the feeling back in his knees. Sneakers hitting the concrete fell silent as blood rushed in his ears. Brown eyes didn't move from his friend as he skidded to a stop, Mikes knees crashing and arm reaching out with just enough time to cushion Wills head before it could make impact with the ground. "Will? Will-" he could feel the tear and sweat streaked cheek against his fingers, wet hair brushing over his palm before he maneuvered his friend, rolling Wills unconscious form onto his back and pulling him upright, against his chest.
They were both soaked from the burst pipe but Wills jacket had been long forgotten and his shirt was damp and clinging to him in places. His skin felt cold. The kind of cold that didn't agree with the chill that settled in Hawkins in early November. Mike moved a hand, inching towards where lashes fluttered against a too pale cheek only to drop it once Joyce rushed forward, cupping Wills face, calling his name, soothing the unconscious teen with "it's okay, baby" as she tried in vain to wake him.
They worked together to haul Will up, half dragging him past the maze upturned vehicles and fire. They'd reached a silent agreement to regroup, to follow the tunnel from Bob's old place of work to the WSQK. The disappointment that they'd failed, that none of the kids were with them left a bitter taste on his tongue. His parents were in the hospital, both sisters in the upside down and that left Will. The one constant that had been in his life since he could remember. The one person he had left to lose.
~~~
He likes it cold.
The words lingered in Mikes mind and judging by Joyce's expression, she was following the same trail of thought. They were both there, both remembered a much smaller Will in a hospital gown screaming and spying for the mindflayer.
When Lucas stumbled in, it was with Robin and Murray, the latter supporting Lucas whilst Robin held a bundle of material to the wound on the teens chest. Both were talking a mile a minute. Both described exactly what Mike had witnessed.
Mike raked a hand through his hair, wincing when his palm brushed the cut above his brow. Will had saved him. He was sure of that but to know he also saved Robin and Lucas? He was somewhat awestruck at just how strong that power Will had managed to wield was, excited his best friend had defied expectations but then there was another part of him. A quiet nagging feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that twisted. He was happy everyone had been saved. Happy Will saved them...but he'd thought he was special. He knew it was ridiculous the moment the notion crossed his mind. Jealous that he wasn't the only one his friend had saved. His best friend. What if he wasn't the first one? What if Robin or Lucas had been first and that lost time in Lenora truly had divided them too deeply? They'd certainly tried to get back to how things had been. The normalcy they all craved whilst the Byers crashed at the Wheelers house and it wasn't quite the sleepovers they had when they were eight but knowing Will was in the basement kept him awake with his thoughts longer than he'd ever admit.
By the time Mike had huffed a sigh and pulled himself back to the situation, he was faced with Joyce carefully holding Will upright on the swivel chair Robin would usually sit on only...
"What are you doing?" Mike could hear the defensive tone he didn't mean to use but they were tying Will to the chair with a mess of wires and cables. "We're just being cautious...given his history" Lucas reasoned. "You didn't see when Max started levitating, it's freaky. At least if Vecna is uh...watching, he won't get Will too." Mike wasn't convinced that it worked that way but Joyce wasn't protesting it and that made the teens brows knit tightly. "Mike, you saw what happened. This is just a precaution. To keep him safe. Us safe. If he's himself when he wakes up, we'll undo it" she reassured, smooth but there was an edge. She saw what he could do. What her baby boy had done when he mangled one of the most unrelenting monsters Mike had both seen or read about.
He didn't like it. Didn't like seeing Will looking feverish with his head lolled forward and a chill to his skin. Mike had wanted to help him warm up. To give him his jacket. To do something. "We can't let him see where we are until we know for sure" Robin said, approaching carefully with what looked like an old tie, the WSQK logo emblazened in bright yellow against blue. "I'll do it." He spoke before thinking. Memory recalling her and Will laughing in the tunnels. Still wondering what it was about and why it had irked him so much.
Mike took the tie, did his best not to snatch it from her hand before he bent down almost reverently. Sliding the cheap fabric between nimble fingers, careful hands guided the material to Wills closed eyes, over the high bridge of his nose and around his tousseled mop of light brown hair to tie it behind his head, securing the make shift blindfold. It felt strange to do. Stranger to see but just as soon as he straightened and took a step back, a walkman was being slipped over Wills ears by Lucas.
Just in case. "The Clash?" He checked, making sure. They'd all made a point to ensure they had copies of tapes stashed. Mix tapes or ones hoarded from garage sales. In all these years Wills favourite hadn't changed and whilst everyone made a point to know these songs now, Mike knew it first. Before even Jonathan realised it was a favourite. Lucas nodded and Mike turned to look at where Joyce and Murray were whispering. Robin chose that precise moment to tug Lucas sway to finally treat his wound but Mike didn't move. Didn't look away. He stayed put, eyes on where Wills lips were chapped and slightly parted, where his hands were hanging down on either side of him, heavy and limp and even at this distance Mike could see the callus on Wills finger, something he had from years of drawing and painting.
Wheels squeaked as Mike took the opportunity to pull away from his thoughts of the last painting he got from Will. The one of their party, commissioned by El. The fact that there were things not adding up because he'd been over it, countless times and it still made his head ache when he tried to make it make sense. He sat slowly, sore muscles from running and being thrown into walls finally catching up but he'd dragged Wills chair with him, keeping him close just in case he was needed. In case Will woke up.
His knees bumped against Wills rough denim clad ones, the burgundy colour still dark in patches where they'd both been laying on the floor in that bathroom only a short while ago. Mike didn't feel the chill yet from it but he could see it on Will. Will who avoided the cold to the extent of wearing long sleeves in summer when he could get away with it. He'd noticed. Of course he did. They all could guess why on the first try but it went unsaid like so many other things.
Will had been through more than his fair share even before the upside down.
Those kinds of things left a mark but not quite the same as the two inch scar on Wills knee, already a crisp white line, or the still pinkish raised point that sat at his waist from a necessary burn. They'd both be gone before they were out of college Mike had thought. Hoped. No, the marks he could see and tried to ignore for Wills sake were countless. Tear streaks, shadows under his eyes, skipped lunches and breathless panic he'd tried to tell Mike was from running. Because he was tired, or not feeling great or any other number of excuses. He knew. Mike knew Will. Probably better than Mike knew himself.
Will was usually a little more tan, his milky skin honeyed and warm and when they'd stood next to each other, it was apparent how pale Mike was with his freckled complexion and contrasting mop of near onyx curls. Sitting opposite him now, knees on either side of Wills, Mike found it was almost reversed and with the cold seeming to cling to the very air around Will, all he wanted was to reach out and wipe those tears, to cup his cheeks until they were flushed with warmth.
It wasn't a new impulse. It had twisted around in his brain for a few weeks at least. Still he'd never let himself actually do that. Even picturing doing it for El had felt strange when he'd tried to push the image of the action from his best friend to his former girlfriend.
Mike didn't move when the others spoke about checking signals and restocking medical supplies. In fact he waved them off with what he'd hoped was an encouraging nod to Joyce that told her her youngest son was in safe hands. If it had been one of the others, maybe she'd have hesitated but she'd struggled to separate them since they were five until Lenora happened. That wasn't something Mike planned on letting happen again.
It had become quiet. Quiet enough that the muffled buzzing of guitars from the headphones was audible and he could hear each shakey exhalation that seemed to rattle through Wills chest. He heard the song finish before leaning in, reaching for the Walkman and fumbling to rewind to play it over again. Deep brown eyes flickered up slow, taking in the proximity. He hit play but his eyes didn't return to the buttons. Nor did he sit back. This close he could see smooth skin, the familiar mole. The scent of faded caramel lingered, not from candy but an artificial sugary shower gel that no doubt Nancy had left in the shower and Will had blindly used in their rush that morning. It suited him more than her. An idea that made his nose wrinkle. Even the smell of smoke and damp from the fires at the MAC-Z seemed appealing on Will. Still he didn't pull back. Thoughts seemed to drift, focus pulling down from the blindfolded teen. He caught a whimper. Scratchy and broken sounding in the back of Wills throat and so weak that maybe if he hadn't been so close, he could've missed it. It made his stomach twist.
All thought seemed to halt. Mike wanted whatever Will was feeling in his dream to stop. So he did the one thing that nagged in reoccurring loops in his thoughts like a dull migraine and pressed forward. It was brief. A brush of their noses before his lips fit against slightly parted ones. Softer than he expected. Then he pulled back. Too fast. As if realisation had sank in but not entirely from guilt. This wasn't a fairytale and Wills breathing picked up, not like the deep and even breaths a sleeping form should be. It was panic. Desperate gasps of air building and building until he turned rigid in his seat.
Mike had pulled back entirely. As though he'd been burned, as if Will might know what he'd done. As if the secret kiss he'd stolen was the trigger. There was more space between their legs as Wills knees pressed together and his hands flexed, arms and chest heaving against cables, head tilting back before finally letting out a pained cry. A sound Mike never wanted to hear again. It was harrowing. A broken noise that soon followed by a gasp and cry of "Mike!?" as Wills conciousness returned. His head turned and his body started to struggle in the cables, anxiousness building as he fought for a freedom in the darkness, unsure where he was and what was happening.