Chapter Text
Holy shit. Holy shit. Will Byers has powers.
His best friend, William Byers, just destroyed a demogorgon from within.
Mike has been thinking nothing but variations of this thought for probably the last hour or so, his mind struggling to process what he saw.
Will Byers, lifting his hand, and the demogorgon freezing mid-leap.
Will Byers, closing his fists, and the demogorgon breaking into pieces like a doll discarded by its owner. Like Vecna’s victims.
Will Byers, looking up at Mike through heavy-lidded eyes, wiping the blood from his nose. That last image has been stuck on repeat in his brain since he saw it. Something about the way Will looked at him felt different somehow, and boy, the things that stare made Mike feel are something else.
After Will... After Will did what he did, Mike had, stupidly, just stood there staring at him, a look of unbridled awe plastered across his face. Then, Will had collapsed, and Mike had realised that maybe he should stop standing there dumbly and go help his friend.
So, he’d run to Will, lifting his arm so that it rested across Mike’s shoulder, and supporting Will with his arm wrapped around his side.
Mrs Byers had quickly joined him, and together they’d managed to haul Will’s unconscious body into the tunnels beneath the MAC-Z, where after walking for a short while, they’d found Lucas, who’d taken over for Mrs Byers and immediately started filling them in on the fate that had befallen his group of children.
When Lucas began telling them about the demogorgon that had leapt at him, then stopped midair as its bones snapped and its body crumpled, Mike glanced nervously to Mrs Byers, who was giving him the same look. Neither of them knew what Will’s powers meant for him, or for the party, and the unspoken agreement not to mention Will’s powers to the others yet settled between them.
Murray and Robin had greeted them upon their arrival at the radio station, where they’d learned that a third demogorgon had almost taken out Robin, before it was stopped by Will.
Mike felt that it wasn’t his place to tell the rest of the group about Will’s newly discovered powers, so he and Mrs Byers had changed the subject to discussing ways to get the others out of the Upside Down. Since Murray has a penchant for ‘unhinged’ rescue plans, and Robin, Lucas and Erica are just kids, Mrs Byers thought it’d be best if she didn’t leave them unsupervised, which left Mike as the one keeping an eye on Will.
Now, Mike sits opposite Will, who is lying, still unconscious, on the makeshift ‘bed’ they’d haphazardly crafted in one of the back rooms of the radio station by pushing together some large ottomans and placing throw cushions under his head to function as a pillow. Mike’s still in shock about the events of the last hour, his brain desperately trying to process Will’s new powers, not to mention his own near-death experience.
The feeling evoked in Mike by Will’s sudden transformation from humble human to fucking sorcerer is impossible to place. It’s not that it’s new or unfamiliar (in fact, Mike distinctly remembers feeling a paler, muted version of this same emotion when he first saw Will again on his visit to California).
If Mike were to attempt describing it, he’d say it was almost like a feeling of… care? Concern? Protectiveness, maybe? And something else he can’t even begin to describe, because no matter how he tries, the name eludes him.
Seeing Will like that - so strong, so confident, so powerful - has unlocked something in Mike, something he didn’t realise he was missing until he gained it back. Not that it was ever missing, exactly, more like hidden, concealed.
Seeing Will's pupils disappear, the blood beginning to flow from his nose - it was like peeling back a veil, revealing these feelings that had always been there, just obscured, existing muffled and muted behind Mike’s conscious mind.
Mike remembers the feeling from years ago, the way it curls comfortably in his chest, reminiscent of simpler times, before Vecna, before the Upside Down, before El. Before the party even, before they were the paladin and the cleric, when they were simply Mike and Will.
Even as he sits here, by Will’s bedside, he can’t help but think that Will, despite looking visibly dishevelled and bloody, looks so... beautiful. His mind conjures the word before Mike’s conscious mind can try to think of something better. He looks so peaceful as he sleeps, so different from the ever-worried Will that Mike has become so used to seeing as of late. As if sleep is the only place where he can forget the constant pressures that rest upon him, where his features lose the lines of worry always present on his face.
It brings back warm memories of better times, back to the many sleepovers they’d had in the Wheeler house, reminding Mike of the nights where he’d wake, restless as usual, and find comfort in Will’s face, the same peace resting on it then that Mike sees in him now.
Not that he was watching Will sleep, exactly, but more that he found Will’s peacefulness in sleep to be anchoring, allowing Mike to be comforted by just his presence, the way it had always been.
Of course, after Will’s abduction, the dynamic had flipped, where Mike became the one comforting Will, and he was more than glad to do it. He remembers cherishing the feeling of Will needing him, of him being the one that Will turned to when the night terrors came, when the monsters of the upside-down came to taunt him in sleep.
But Will doesn’t need Mike like he used to. He hasn’t for a long while.
God, it’s been so long since he’s seen Will like this. Somewhere along the line, the sleepovers had become special occasions, then rarities, then once-in-a-blue-moon events, before they stopped happening altogether. Despite them living in the same house for the last 18 months, they haven’t had a real sleepover in years. Mike could try to reason with himself that life got in the way, but he knows it’s not true. Something changed between them, even before Will spent a year away in California, something irreversible and new - but not necessarily bad. Just… different.
He remembers the moment when he thinks things changed between them. Or at least, when things changed for him.
It was the day Will and El left for California, when the party had come over to help them pack up the Byers’ house, erasing all traces of their family from those familiar walls.
He was standing in the kitchen, listening to Max and Lucas’s surprisingly not terrible rendition of Never Ending Story, when Will walked in, carrying a stack of books from his room. His D&D playbook had been on top, and he’d placed the pile in the donations box.
Mike had been confused, wondering why Will would throw out his manual when he’d just spent the last few months desperately trying to get them to play as a party like they used to. So, thinking Will had just made a mistake, Mike had said to Will,
“Whoa, dude, that’s the donation box.” He’d told Mike that it wasn’t a mistake, and said that he’d just use Mike’s book when he came back. When. Not if. As if he, like Mike, saw this as a temporary relocation. Not something permanent.
Mike had dared to be vulnerable then, truly vulnerable, for the first time in a long time. “What if you join another party?” What if you don’t need me anymore? Voicing his fear that with a change in scenery, Will would leave Hawkins behind. Leave the party behind. Leave Mike behind.
He’s never forgotten what Will said to him in reply: Not possible. Who knew that such few words could bring so much joy?
But his elation was short-lived. Feeling such happiness at Will refusing to leave them behind just cemented how much Will meant to him. It just made his actual leaving them behind hurt even more.
It had truly hit him then, that he really was losing Will. In a different, less final way than when they found Will’s body in ‘83, because he’d still be alive, but, in a way, that almost made it worse. That Will would continue living, just away from Hawkins. Away from him. That he’d make new friends, new relationships, a new life. That Will would still be here, just in a way where Mike couldn’t reach him. That Will would still be here, just not here. So close yet impossibly far away.
Of course, he knew that they’d visit each other, and that there were other ways to contact him, like letters or phone calls, but it wouldn’t be the same. They wouldn’t be Mike and Will anymore, they’d just be two friends living on opposite sides of the continent.
While the others had left the house easily, riding back home like it was just another day, Mike struggled to leave the Byers house in his rear-view mirror. He stayed longer than the others, silently saying goodbye to all the memories attached to the house. Saying goodbye to Will.
He’d cried the whole bike ride, taking a longer route just so he had time to collect himself before getting home. That day was when things changed for him. When he went from seeing Will as his best friend to… something more. When he realised that he felt differently about Will than any of his friends. When Will’s absence made Mike painfully aware of just how intensely he’d miss him.
Now, sitting by Will’s bedside, after having him back again for 18 months, Mike feels that deep connection to Will in full force. When Will came back, they didn’t lapse back into the same steady friendship they’d shared before Will left. No, they’d become something different, something new. The newness scared him, and this new bond between them somehow made Mike feel even more tethered to Will, and consequently, even more terrified for him.
He’d felt such fear when Vecna had manipulated Will’s body, lifting him upright with his telekinesis. And he’d felt so, so weak. So powerless. Knowing Will was in pain, knowing he was suffering, and being completely unable to do anything about it. He remembers the pain that clawed up through his heart, the pure terror he felt at the prospect of losing Will for a third, final time.
To quell his fear, to reassure himself that Will is really here, that they really made it out alive, Mike can’t help but glance again to Will, lying there completely still on the improvised bed, looking so perfectly serene. Despite how calm he looks, Mike can’t help but worry about what Will will be like once he wakes. What if he doesn’t remember anything? What if he’s been turned into a spy again? What if tapping into the hive mind did horrible, irreparable damage to him? As these thoughts run wild through his head, Mike catches a trace of movement on Will’s face.
Mike notices the twitch of his mouth first, then the flicker of movement in his fingertips, before he sees Will twist, beginning to open his eyes with an agitated groan.
“Will?” Mike asks, softly, wanting to make sure he’s really waking up, not wanting to disturb him in case he’s just turning in his sleep.
“M- huh” Will murmurs as he slowly moves his arms beneath himself in an attempt to sit up.
“Easy, Will,” Mike says, moving to help the other boy up. The last thing Will needs right now is to exert himself further. He grabs Will’s shoulders gently, but firmly, helping him into a sitting position, where Will lays his head against the wall behind him. Though fleeting, this small touch is electrifying, and he craves it again as soon as it’s time to release Will from his grip. Will sits still for a brief moment, stewing in his confusion, before abruptly deciding to voice his queries aloud. “What happened to me back there? And what-” He cuts himself off, unable to stop the flow of questions now that they’ve started.
“Holy shit, what happened to you- I remember the military, the MAC-Z, and then there was a demo- No, there were so many demos, and wait- was Vecna there? And what happened to the soldiers?” Mike sees Will take a second - a brief one at that - to breathe, and realisation clouds his features.
“They’re all…” He trails off, and Mike recognises the haunted look in his eyes. It’s the same one he had after he admitted that he’d sent all those soldiers to their deaths in the Lab - back when he was fully in the throes of the mind flayer. It angers Mike to see that same expression on his face now - he didn’t do this; he’s a goddamn hero, for goodness sake, he saved all of them. Besides, there was nothing he could’ve done, not while he was inside the hive mind, thrashing around on the floor, trying in vain to quell the horrific pain he must’ve felt burning through his whole body. How can he think he’s to blame for this?
“They’re all... aren’t they?” Will looks like he can’t bring himself to say the actual word. Dead. He delivers it more like a statement than a question, like he already knows the answer, but desperately wants to be proven wrong.
Seeing the heartbreak and anguish on Will’s face breaks something in Mike. Unable to think of anything to say that would diminish this pain for Will, he simply nods in reply.
Tears form in Will’s eyes then, real, grieving tears. It truly amazes Mike, how despite everything those soldiers have put him through, put El through, put his whole family through, Will still finds it in his heart to mourn them. After all he’s been through, Will somehow still finds kindness and compassion inside himself. He must have an endless well of it, Mike thinks, for him not to have run out by now.
Blinking through his tears, Will still has countless unanswered questions, and he starts firing away again, clearly trying to distract himself from what he’s just remembered about the events of the night.
“Why did Vecna leave? And why did he let us make it out? And did I-” Mike interrupts him, not wanting Will to exert himself again so soon after his ordeal at the MAC-Z.
“Whoa, Will, just stop for a second. Slow down, breathe. Your mind’s probably still recovering, or... or something, so just- just wait, I’ll go get Mrs Byers.” He starts to straighten, preparing to turn away, when he feels Will reach out and grab his wrist.
“Wait... don’t go yet.” Don’t go. Those words stop Mike, drawn to the feeling of Will’s hand on him, not wanting to leave this space where it’s just the two of them.
“I’m not ‘going’ anywhere, I’m just gonna grab your mom and come right back, okay? She’s going to want to see you, Will.” He tries to deliver the words light-heartedly, but it comes out more pained than Mike cares to admit. He hopes Will is too wrapped up in his own concerns to notice the breathless way Mike spoke the last few words.
Will makes no move to let go of Mike’s wrist. Instead, he stares at their almost-linked hands contemplatively, before he flips their hands over and looks at his own upturned palm quizzically, almost as if he’s remembering something, before Mike sees his eyes widen in horror. Unlike his previous outbursts, he sits and thinks for a second, clearly trying to formulate some way to say whatever it is that’s on his mind.
“Wait- did you…?” He trails off, almost like he can’t bear to finish the sentence. It’s clear that thinking through his words didn’t really do much for him. Nevertheless, Mike sees the hard set of determination settle on his face, before he tries to force himself to say what he wants to say, ask the questions that have really been eating at him, choking out the rest of the words.
“The demogorgon… your demogorgon… Did i really… do that?” He almost whispers the last word, as if even alluding to his newfound powers could invoke his connection to the hive mind. Seeing Will like this, devastation plainly written on his face, tears running down his cheeks, settling in the corners of his mouth, then rolling off his face to soak into his shirt, hits Mike squarely in the chest. To see Will, who has worked so hard to face his trauma, who had almost conquered it, reduced to this terrified, devastated mess.
Mike decides then that if what Will needs right now is to break down, to be a mess, they’ll be a mess together. A perfect mess. The thought emerges from deep within him, from some part of Mike that knows that he and Will are bound inextricably, part of a kind of perfect pair, compelled together by some covenant that runs deeper than anything else Mike has ever known.
Will continues, relentless in his curiosity.
“And Robin and Lucas… are they...?” Will, always more concerned for others than for himself. At hearing Will’s compassion, the sheer depth of his care for others, Mike can’t quite help himself, still in giddy awe over the revelation of Will’s powers, and gives Will his broadest, proudest grin.
“Yeah, they’re alright. We’re alright. All thanks to you. You were... just- totally incredible out there, Will. Holy shit! You... your powers...” Mike wants so badly to express just how grateful, and awed, and incredulous he is about Will saving him. Saving all of them.
“It saved us all. You saved us all.” Will, while now looking significantly less green in the face, his tears drying, still appears to be harbouring worry, fear, and… something that almost looks like guilt. Mike’s heart drops. After all that, after literally saving all of their asses, he still doubts himself?
“But I was... I was like him, wasn’t I?” Will asks the question timidly, as if he’s afraid to voice this fear aloud, and like he’s frightened by the prospect of what Mike will say next. Which is ridiculous. As if Will could ever do anything that would make Mike turn on him. Will, whether divine sorcerer or ordinary boy, is his best friend. He always will be. And maybe that’s just the sort of reassurance he needs right now.
“Will, you’re my best friend. Will the Wise. You’re our cleric, innate powers or not. You’re not him, you’re still just… just Will.” He’s rambling now, just like he always does, his mouth flooded with all the wrong words that just won’t stop flowing out. And what kind of reassurance is ‘You’re still just Will’?! Jesus, he’s doing a stellar job at fucking this up. “God, I just mean- you’re like… well, remember how you said I was like the heart? Well, if- if I’m the heart, then- then you’re the soul of the party, you’re the one that keeps us alive, and… whether you’re a divine spellcaster or not, you’re still Will Byers. Our friend.” My friend.
“Not Vecna, okay? Not Vecna.” Well, Mike knows there were a million better things he could’ve said than that. A shame he can’t manage to think of them. But, thankfully, he can also think of several worse things he could’ve said.
Reassuring Will about his powers feels so different to when he used to do the same thing for El. He’d always been so ready to empower El, the words flowing easily and smoothly off his tongue. But they had always felt empty. Untrue. The word emerges, unbidden, from his subconscious. Maybe that’s why it had been so easy. Because it wasn’t real.
But with Will, the same experience felt so different, so uncertain, so new. And this newness scared him. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he said too much? What if he didn’t say enough? Needing to now be the one to anchor Will, the one to dispel his fears, feels so intricately delicate. Like there's no right answer in sight but a million different wrong ones. Daunting. Terrifying.
Will stares up at his face at Mike’s words, where Mike is pinned beneath the intensity of Will’s gaze, struck dumb by those pleading hazel eyes.
“You promise?” He murmurs, almost a whisper, yet he continues to stare at Mike earnestly, clearly awaiting his answer. Mike smiles again, in a way that he hopes comes off as reassuring and warm.
“Friends don’t lie.” Upon those words, Will averts his gaze, freeing Mike from the scrutiny of his stare. He seems… unsatisfied with Mike’s answer - disappointed. Almost as if he were expecting something more.
Still, Mike's response is final enough that Will lifts his hand from Mike’s wrist, releasing him from his grasp. The absence of Will’s touch on Mike’s skin leaves behind an echo of Will’s warmth, a warmth which Mike realises he desperately longs to feel again.
Those small, innocent half-touches remind him of the way they used to be, freely and frequently grazing shoulders, bumping knees and brushing fingertips. The way Mike would comfort Will with a hand on his shoulder, or by grasping his hand in the darkness, in the space between Mike’s bed and the mattress Will would occupy. Those touches unseen, unknown by anyone but them two.
Before the harsh words of their school bullies started getting to Will, and before Ted Wheeler’s disgusted ranting had seeped into Mike’s brain. Mike never realised how much he cherished that contact until it turned from a real, physical thing to a fond memory.
He feels that bittersweet nostalgia gnawing at him now as Will removes his hand from Mike’s arm. Always, he found lately, it was an echo, a remnant, a memory of Will’s touch, but rarely ever Will’s touch. Not knowing what else to say, Mike states dumbly,
“I guess I’ll go get your mom now,” as he begins to, reluctantly, make his way toward the hallway, not at all wanting to leave Will, but not sure what more he can say to comfort him, when he hears the rustle of bedsheets.
“Wait.” With that word, Will sounds steady, grounded. Sure of himself. It’s enough to make Mike stop advancing toward the door and turn around. “Help me up, will you?” An edge of vulnerability has crept into Will’s tone, undermining his previous surety. The way he asked that… it was almost as if he thought Mike might refuse him. As if he could say no to Will. Still, Mike isn’t sure that Will getting up so soon after unlocking goddamn powers is the best move. Who knows what damage tapping into the hive-mind has wreaked on his already-exhausted body?
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, you literally just unlocked superpowers, Will, don’t you think you might need some time to recover?” At this, Will just rolls his eyes and glares at Mike from across the room, making it clear that he’s getting out of that bed whether Mike helps him or not.
“If you insist...” Mike grumbles unhappily as he steps back from the doorway and makes his way to Will’s bedside once again. Will is sitting fully upright now, his body facing the chair that Mike had just been sitting in, his feet resting on the floor. Mike leans down to loop his arm around Will’s back, and under his arm. As Will rests his arm around Mike’s waist, Mike can’t help but feel ecstasy at the touch. After being so deprived of it for so long, feeling the sudden heat of Will’s body on his is like a dormant house phone being so suddenly flooded with calls that it causes a short circuit.
It feels euphoric, but at the same time imposes upon Mike a foreign sense of wrongness. Not from within him, but rather impressed upon him by the rest of the world. He thinks back to his father’s comments over the years, not about him but rather directed towards him, spoken like Ted knew something he didn’t. He isn’t stupid, he knows what his father was implying. He knows what it would mean.
Since when does Will make him feel like this? Why is his body reacting this way to the touch of his best friend? Fuck, what is wrong with him lately? First he would catch himself blatantly staring at Will, and now this? Craving physical contact with him? He’s never felt this way before, not about anyone. It feels almost like a sort of... electricity. Like a current flowing between them, made of something only they can feel.
Or maybe it’s just Mike’s brain ‘short-circuiting’ because he almost just died like an hour ago. Yeah, that must be it. Now that he’s faced death, he must just be feeling everything more intensely. Isn’t that what normally happens in situations like this? That’s always how it is in the movies. You become painfully aware of your ability to die, then you feel a greater appreciation for the things you’d been taking for granted. Just like he is now, with Will’s touches.
Still, the feeling of Will’s arm on his waist, of Will’s warm body pressed into his side... it truly is like nothing else.
Will, oblivious to the way his every move is making Mike’s nervous system go haywire, takes a step forward, leaning on Mike to steady himself. Mike is mentally begging Will to speak, to say something, to say anything, so that Mike can be distracted from the heat caused by the friction between their bodies. It’s extraordinary to Mike how a touch between their clothes, not even skin on skin, can cause such an intense reaction in him.
They keep walking in silence, Will slowly regaining his strength step by step, and Mike pauses in the doorway. He looks to Will, about to ask, again, if he’s sure he wants to face everyone right away, when he catches the determined set to Will’s jaw, and resumes their clumsy trudging towards the main area of the radio station.
Back to everyone else, and away from this hidden space where it's just the two of them.
Back to the real world.