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Mike and Will, eight years old. Mike holds his cardboard sword in his shaking hands, red cape and makeshift painted silver armor worn like a protective shield. Will stands next to him in his wizard costume, his wooden wand stuck out in front of him carefully, watching for danger. They’re in front of Castle Byers, guarding their homefront, staring out into the woods beyond.
When Mike was eight years old, he stole Nancy’s book of fairytales to use as inspiration for his and Will’s D&D campaigns. He had quickly fallen in love with stories of knights slaying dragons to save princesses in towers, and although the princess in his head was just some faceless girl, he always imagined himself as the knight. He’d be Mike the Brave, in shining silver armor and a heart crested on his chest, a hefty sword wielded in front of him. Will had loved the idea, but he’d told Mike he couldn’t go anywhere without backup, and thus Will the Wise was born, a wizard who was always at Mike’s side, ready to cast protection. Neither of them ever paid much attention to the princess in the castle, after that. It was always just the two of them, Will the wizard and Mike the paladin, saving the world together.
“There’s a dragon on the other side of the forest!” Mike announces, grinning toothily at his own story. Will grins up at him by his shoulder, nodding.
“Are you gonna kill it, Mike?”
Mike holds his sword out and crosses it with Will’s wand, forming a lopsided X shape. “Not without Will the Wise! We have to get this dragon together.”
Will frowns suddenly, wand drooping as his wrist goes slack. He tugs on Mike’s sleeve, the way he does whenever he’s nervous. Mike looks down at him, worried.
But now that they’re living it, Mike realizes, it’s not nearly as much fun.
Here he is now: Mike the Brave, in muddy jeans and a tattered Queen T–shirt, a gash pouring blood from his forehead and deep red scratches running jagged lines down his chest, a sour purple bruise spreading from his collarbone to his shoulder. His arms are heavy with exhaustion as he wields his trusty sword, which is actually an antique Dustin had stolen from his attic, and it’s annoyingly on the nose, with a deep red heart–shaped jewel encrusted in the handle. The blade itself is a rusted silver, but it’s just the sharpness Mike needs now as he tears down the thick, ugly vines in front of him, teeming and swarming with life like worms.
“Fuck,” Mike says to himself, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Fuck, come on.”
“Mike?”
“Yeah?”
“What happens if…” Will shuffles on his feet nervously. “What if I get hurt?”
Mike furrows his brows, confused. Will the Wise never gets hurt, not when Mike the Brave is there to protect him. “What do you mean?”
“What if one day there’s a dragon who beats me?” Will asks. “Like in Dungeons, when the Demogorgon gets you just ‘cause you rolled the dice. A dragon could get me like that, too, right? I don’t have a weapon like you. And then it would just be you, all alone.”
Ideally, Mike the Brave would have Will the Wise with him, but his sorcerer is the very person he is trying to tear down walls to get through right now, because they have been separated. Will had made a gate into the Upside Down and they’d entered together, along with Robin, where they’d reunited with Dustin, Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan. They’d tried searching for El and Hopper, but were intercepted by Vecna, who grabbed Will and laughed with glee as Mike fell right into his trap, tripping over himself to run after Will and ending up sucked through the same portal as Will, only they were spit out at opposite ends.
Mike isn’t sure how long he’s been walking. He fought a Demogorgon on his way with nothing but his sword to back him up, and he’s pretty sure he won only through sheer force of will. But there’s nothing that could stop Mike now, not even the raging winds of the Upside Down or the thunderstorms wetting the ground and sucking up the soles of his sneakers, because Will is missing again, and Mike will never stop searching for him.
Mike thinks about that for a moment. He’d never considered that, a world where he’d have to fight without Will. He shrugs. “I’d just find you again! Maybe you could be like the princess in the tower that time, and I’m the knight who has to save you!”
Will scrunches up his nose. “A princess?”
“Princesses are cool!” Mike assures him. “Nancy says so. You’d be a cool princess.”
Will smiles a little at that, but he still looks worried. “So….if the dragon gets me, you would find me?”
“Will!” Mike calls out, as the vines under his blade grow thinner. “Will, are you there?”
He’d come across the wall of vines a few hours ago, and it’s different from the wall Dustin had told him about. This is a smaller wall, one where the black and green vines are moving, snakes with emerald eyes and forked tongues taunting him over his failures. Sharp thorns grow on the ends, and Mike’s entire face has been cut up by them at this point. He can feel blood dribbling down his cheeks and chin, but he just wipes it with his arm and keeps going. All he has is this rusty antique sword, but he’s been steadily cutting through the vines, beheading the snakes where they stand, and he just knows Will is on the other side.
Mike knows a lot of things about Will. Mike knows Will’s favorite song is Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash. Mike knows that Will loves The Cure. Mike knows that Will likes to steal Mike’s clothes in the winter, and his favorites are always Mike’s hoodies. Mike knows that Will’s favorite breakfast is eggs with maple syrup and some sausage and potatoes on the side. He knows that Will uses conditioner to get his hair as soft as it is because Joyce told him to when he was ten. He knows that Will chose to play as a wizard in D&D solely so that he could protect Mike in–game. He knows that Will would do anything for his friends, anything for Mike, and Mike knows that Will is in love with him.
“Hold on, Will!” Mike yells it to the sky and prays Will can hear. “I’m coming!”
“Yeah!” Mike pumps his sword into the air. He swirls around to Castle Byers, pointing to it. “If Will the Wise is trapped in a tower like Castle Byers, I’d just cut it down—”
Mike imitates cutting up Castle Byers with his cardboard sword, complete with whoosh sound effects. Will giggles at the sound, cheeks growing red with laughter.
“—And then I’d find you again! I’ll even pick you up and carry you back!”
Mike’s known that he is in love with Will for some time now. He’s not sure if he realized it on the first day of sophomore year when he felt lighter than he had in the last year with Will by his side as they walked into school together. Or maybe it was their first summer in Hawkins quarantine when they’d gone to the pool together and Will’s hair had stuck to his face as they leaned against the gutter and talked. Maybe it was when their knees brushed under their lunch table in junior year and Mike didn’t pull away, just let it rest there as Will smiled at him and kept talking about his latest drawing. Or maybe it was yesterday, when Will broke every bone in a Demogorgon’s body just to protect Mike.
In any case, somewhere along the way Mike realized he was in love with Will. He and El broke up a few months after coming back to Hawkins and Mike had stayed glued to Will’s side, determined to make up for the last two years of being a truly terrible friend. And Will had just seemed so happy about it, his eyes lighting up when they read comics together in Mike’s room or watched movies together in the basement, and Mike felt happy too, like his heart weighed a little less when he was with Will. Maybe Mike should’ve realized it then, that Will was in love with him too. Instead, Mike realized it when Will told him, as Vecna grabbed Will by the neck and strung him into the sky like a puppet, and Will had locked eyes with Mike and mouthed three simple words to him before Mike ran right after him into the fray.
“No way,” Will argues. “You have to wake me up first, okay? So I can cast a spell against the dragon and help you get away!”
“Okay, fine,” Mike agrees, always quick to agree with Will. “But you know how Nancy always says the knight wakes the princess up?”
Will watches him, eyes wide, in the way that makes Mike feel like he’s the only kid in the world. Like Mike is the only kid Will wants to listen to. “How?”
It keeps Mike going now, as he cuts through vine after vine, the muscles in his arms threatening to burst out of his bones, his heart beating so hard he feels like it’s going to pop right out of his chest. The way Will’s lips had shaped the syllables, the way it looked so natural coming out of his mouth, the way a years–long ache had settled in Mike the moment he saw it, because knowing Will loves him and loving Will in return felt like the answer to a question he’s been tortured by for a very long time. Mike has felt like something was missing inside him since the day he was born, and Will has always been the puzzle piece that slid right into place and soothed that gaping hole. This only feels like an extension of that.
This is right where Mike is supposed to be, fighting his way through the Upside Down to get to Will. A paladin walking to the ends of the Earth for his sorcerer.
“WILL!” Mike screams again, the only word he remembers how to say. “Are you here?”
The sword is heavy in Mike’s hands. In all honesty, he’s not sure he is worth the weight of it. But he would do anything for Will, and there is finally an opening in the vines, and Mike feels hope rise in his heart like a traitorous ocean wave, and he grips the handle of the sword so tight his knuckles turn a ghostly white as he cuts, and cuts, and cuts and cuts.
The thorns whip across his face, stitches of blood dotting his pale skin. Mike can feel his curls sticking to his cheeks, whether from sweat or tears he has no idea. The sky rages red above him, the ground a dark blue below him, and purple clouds roil across the horizon and spit acid rain onto Mike’s shoulders. He doesn’t feel any of it. He doesn’t feel a thing, because he’s finally cut through to the end of the wall, and the vines are coming apart, and Mike throws his arms out, curving the sword into one final arc, slashing the last of the vines to the ground. They writhe and shrivel like the exoskeleton of the bugs he used to hunt as a child so that Will could capture them in glasses and learn to draw them. And then they die, corpses rotting in the dirt, and Mike shoves the point of his sword into the ground and leans on it, gasping for breath. Ironically, Mike wishes desperately that Will was with him right now.
“With a true love’s kiss,” Mike announces with a flair, flourishing his hand for emphasis. “So I’d have to give you a kiss.”
Will darts his eyes around, as if looking for someone. “Really?”
“Really,” Mike says. “And then you’ll wake up, and it’ll all be okay.”
Mike’s knees threaten to buckle, but he doesn’t let them. He stands strong, and tries to imagine that he is in silver armor, protected by trademark Will the Wise spellcasting. Grunting, he pulls his sword out of the ground, feeling like a much more cowardly version of King Arthur, his Excalibur nothing but an outdated relic, and he places one bloodied sneaker in front of the other and steps through the vines. They squelch under his feet and tear apart the skin on his arms as Mike walks through, the thorns enacting their revenge, but once again, Mike does not feel a thing, because Will is on the other side, and Mike is so close.
The other side of the wall is unremarkable. The sky is still red, the ground still blue, the clouds still purple. Mike is inside of the wall now, surrounded by the towering vines on all sides. He feels like the princess in the tower for a moment, caught in a circular trap with no escape. The opening he’d cut through is already closing, leaving Mike surrounded. The vines stretch like microphone cords right to the center stage, where a bed of vines elevates a few feet into the air like the world’s biggest guitar amplifier. And there, Mike notices, lying on the rectangular bed, eerily reminiscent of a coffin, body pale and still like the fake one Mike saw getting pulled out of the quarry, thin vines swirling into his hair, there he is.
Will Byers, who Mike last saw mouthing I love you with the certainty of a sorcerer.
And here is Mike Wheeler, who loves Will with the staunch devotion of a knight.
The boy Mike loves lies unconscious in a bed of vines, and all Mike has is a sword, his heart, and his undying love. It will have to be enough.
Will smiles up at him, more hopeful now. “So then…would you be my true love?”
Mike feels his face split into a grin. “Yeah! We’re already best friends, right?”
“WILL!” The relief rips out of his voice, even with the state Will is clearly in, and Mike’s legs almost stumble over themselves as he runs, sword at his side as he rushes to get to Will. When he reaches the bed of vines the sword clatters to the ground, before Mike thinks better of it and picks it up, placing it carefully through some of the vines at Will’s feet instead. These vines seem less intimidating than the vines of the wall, and when they clench slightly around the handle of Mike’s sword, it seems almost caring rather than choking.
Mike frowns, and watches the vines carefully. He places one hand on Will’s forehead, taking in his pale skin, his closed eyes, the way his eyelashes fan shadows across his cheeks. Will’s chest is still rising and falling, his lips in a neutral line, and if it wasn’t for where they were Mike could almost imagine they’re back in his room after one of Will’s bad nightmares, after Mike had just finished telling Will a story to lull him back to sleep. Will looks just like he did then, sleeping peacefully, finally able to rest with the knowledge that Mike was here.
Mike moves his hand to stroke some of the hair out of Will’s forehead, and he jolts in surprise when the vines move to make room for him. It strikes Mike, then, that these vines are Will’s vines. He’s controlling them, the way he could control the tunnels in the Upside Down. These vines, no matter how harshly Vecna tried to turn them against Will, belonged to him. Will siphoned his powers to control the vines closest to them, and in turn they are now friendly to Mike. These vines, unlike the ones of the wall, are on Mike’s side.
“Thanks, Will,” Mike whispers fondly, even though he has no idea if Will can hear him. He brushes more of Will’s cold hair out of his eyes, and tries to think this through. He needs to wake Will up, to get them both out of here. Mike decides to try the obvious first.
“Will!” Mike grabs Will by the shoulders and shakes him, gently but firm enough that it could actually wake him. “Will, it’s Mike. I’m here, okay? You need to wake up!”
Will doesn’t move, but the vines do. Mike feels something creep across the skin of his wrist, and he looks down to find one vine inching across his skin, the edge of it reaching for Mike’s pulse point. He watches in awe as the vine finds it and presses down, as if it’s checking for proof of life. As if Will, even in this state, is checking that Mike is here.
“I’m here, Will,” Mike says, leaning down so he’s closer to Will’s ears. “I’m here, I’ve got you. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’re gonna get you out of here.”
The vine tightens, like a bracelet around Mike’s wrist. But it doesn’t constrict, it just holds. The way Will always used to hold onto Mike’s wrist in the playground when they were in elementary school, as Mike chatted with the other kids and unsuccessfully tried to make friends with them. And Will would keep holding on as the kids laughed at Mike, made fun of him for his face, for his Dungeons and Dragons figurines, for the way Will held onto him. Mike is more comforted than anything, now, by the vine’s tender grip on Mike’s wrist.
It’s Will, holding onto him. Letting Mike know he’s alive in there.
“Right,” Will says back, eyes sparkling. “And you’ll save me?”
Mike nods, pointing to the red heart painted on his cardboard armor for good measure. “I’ll always save you, Will.”
“I’ll always save you, Will,” Mike repeats. It settles in his head and bubbles up to the surface like boiling water, and it’s the only thing that seems to matter. Will’s hand dangles over the edge of the vine-bed, and without thinking Mike grabs it with his free hand, bringing it up to his heart. Mike holds Will’s hand there, right over his heartbeat, feels how cool it is in his grip, and he remembers what he’d said to Will when they were eight.
“So I’d have to give you a kiss.”
It feels stupid, that this would be the answer. That getting Will out of Vecna’s trance would really just amount to whether or not Mike’s love for him could save him. But, Mike thinks, the two things that have always prevailed against Vecna are music and love. They got Max back because El and Lucas loved her, enough to know her favorite song and restart her heart. Will saved Mike, Robin, and Lucas because of his love for his family and friends. Hell, Mike, Joyce, and Jonathan saved Will from his first possession with their love for Will. When Mike thinks about the depths of his love for Will, and what it could possibly accomplish, this seems like nothing in the face of it all. This feels inevitable, as if it was the only choice.
“Okay,” Mike says, gripping Will’s hand. “Here goes nothing.”
He can feel the vines pulsing around his other hand, reassuring him. Mike can almost envision Will’s voice in his head. You’re the heart. Mike prays that it’s true.
“I really hope this works, Will,” Mike says, and then he presses his lips to Will’s hand.
The back of Will’s hand is soft from the lotion Joyce always has him wear, and cold from his unconscious state. Mike’s lips are chapped and bleeding, and he almost feels like he’s pressing a blemish to Will’s skin. Mike feels like a blemish to Will himself, sometimes, but he knows Will wouldn’t want him to think that way. He’s Mike the Brave, the fiercely loyal boy who swore to protect Will the Wise until the day he died. He can still be that Mike. As Mike’s lips linger on Will’s hand he lets his eyes fall shut, waiting for any sort of sensation. Will’s hand has always been his strength against the Upside Down, even when he used it to snap the Demogorgons apart. It’s the same hand he used to signal to them when he was possessed, the same hand that Mike held when they were kids in fear of the Mind Flayer.
When Will’s hand lies motionless in his grip, and Mike feels his heart plummet to the bottom of his stomach. Tears start to form between his closed eyelids, and he tries to force them away. He can’t break down now, not when Will needs him. This can’t be the end.
“Come on, Will,” Mike pleads, lips brushing Will’s knuckles. “You can fight it, Will, I know you can. I know you’re in there. It’s me, Will. It’s Mike.”
Mike has never read a fairytale with an unhappy ending. He refuses to live one, either.
Will’s hand twitches.
It twitches like it did when he was thirteen and tied to the chair, breaking out of the Mind Flayer’s possession. It twitches like it did under Mike’s firm hold when he was trembling out of nothing but terror. It twitches like it did when Mike held Will in the hospital room after getting him back and felt his fingers feebly reaching for Mike’s heart.
Will’s hand twitches, and Mike remembers what it was like to be twelve.
Will’s alive. Will is alive.
“Holy shit,” is what Mike says aloud, which isn’t very knightly of him. He doesn’t care, because Will’s fingers are moving now, ever so slightly, coming to curl around Mike’s and grasp onto him, so their hands are interlaced right against Mike’s mouth. Mike opens his eyes and finds his vision blurry, and he blinks the tears away and clutches onto Will’s hand like a lifeline, watching the vines swirl tenderly around Mike’s wrist, resting on his pulse.
“I’m alive, Will,” Mike tells him, because he knows Will’s still searching for it. “And so are you. I’m gonna get you awake, okay? But you have to promise not to get mad.”
The vines squeeze once, softly around Mike’s wrist. It’s okay.
Will’s fingers tap weakly against Mike’s. I won’t be mad.
“I’m holding you to it,” Mike warns Will, leaning down slowly. Mike isn’t stupid, he knows a true love’s kiss means one on the mouth. But he also knows that Will is conscious in there, and he’s communicating with Mike in the best way he can. It bolsters Mike, the way Will’s fingers tap once, twice, three times at Mike’s pulse point, and Mike leans down, thinking that this isn’t necessarily the way he would’ve wanted to kiss Will for the first time. But on the other hand, he’d always imagined it sweeping and romantic, like a fairytale.
Distantly, Mike recalls another memory: Mike and Will, six years old, outside of the Byers house. Will tripping on a loose twig and scraping his knee, and Mike slinging an arm around him and taking him all the way back home. He’d taken a Band–Aid from Joyce’s bathroom and she’d come home from work to Mike and Will sitting on the sofa, Will’s knee perfectly patched up. Will had regaled her with the story of how Mike took care of him.
“You’re like his knight in shining armor.” Joyce had said to Mike. Mike had puffed his chest up proudly, happy to be of service. Happy to be the one looking after Will.
Right now, Mike is the living embodiment of Will’s knight in shining armor.
Mike splays his fingers out, and the vines spread apart to let him do so. He lets his fingers stretch across Will’s heart, feeling it beat steady, strong, and ever so Will. And then Mike lowers his head, his hair falling over his face, a shield keeping him and Will separate from the rest of the world, from the cruelty of the Upside Down. Letting this moment be just for the two of them. Will’s hand tightens around Mike’s as Mike’s lips inch closer to Will’s, and Mike watches in awe as Will’s eyelids flutter the tiniest bit at Mike’s proximity. Mike pays careful attention to Will, the beauty mark under his nose, the way a slight red flush is returning to his skin, the ends of his hair curling at the back of his neck.
He’s beautiful, Mike thinks. Will is the most beautiful person he’s ever known.
Slowly, tentatively, Mike closes the distance. He brushes their lips together softly, gasping and shuddering at the electric spark that seems to pass between them. They’ve barely kissed but Mike feels like a livewire, and somehow he knows that’s Will talking to him. The vines tighten around his wrist, a look, Mike, you’re doing it. Will’s finger taps again at Mike’s pulse point, their joined hands now lying at Will’s side. Mike’s heart pounds like the wings of a caged butterfly, desperate to be free, take to the skies and love the way he was meant to. Mike has never been one to believe in fate, but since fate is the stuff of fairy tales and Will is magic bottled up into a soul, Mike can’t help but think that this is his destiny. He was destined to be Mike the Brave, destined to love and protect Will, destined to save him.
Another memory: Mike and Will, eleven years old. It’s their first year of middle school, and this time Dustin and Lucas aren’t with them. Troy Harrington is about to push Will off the swingset. Will isn’t hurt, but his eyes are filling with tears, and then Mike is stepping forward with an arm in front of him, and Troy’s shove hits his chest. Mike stumbles back, right into Will’s waiting arms, and then they’re crumpled on the woodchips together, the bullies’ laughter trailing off into the distance. Will looked at Mike like he was his hero.
“I wasn’t scared,” Will told him when Mike asked. “You were there.”
“I’m not afraid,” Mike whispers against Will’s lips.
Will’s fingers tap at Mike’s pulse point.
Once. Kiss me. Twice. Kiss me.
Mike kisses him.
If Mike felt like a livewire before, he’s practically an explosion of light now. His mouth presses against Will’s like it was meant to make a home there, and his eyes close as if powerless against an unknown force. Will’s lips are soft, and they are only still for a moment before Mike feels it, the same way he feels Will’s hand around his start to move and the vines around his wrist start to loosen, and Mike feels it when the livewire reaches Will, the spark passing from Mike’s mouth to his, and then Will is kissing back, hesitant but there.
He’s there.
Slowly, Will moves. Mike keeps kissing him, and Will’s mouth parts under his, and when Mike opens his eyes in a brief moment of curiosity he’s met with the bright hazel of Will’s eyes, open and awestruck and wondrous, and there’s so much sheer love in his gaze as they stare at each other that Mike has to close his eyes again. Will’s other hand comes up from his side and rests carefully on Mike’s shoulder, bracing himself as he sits upright. Mike moves up with him until they’re both sitting up, and Mike finally pulls away to breathe.
Mike doesn’t go far. He opens his eyes to find everything the same: red sky, blue ground, purple clouds. But Will’s eyes are open, and they’re hazel, and he’s looking at Mike like he’s his hero. The bed of vines has loosened, falling away from Will’s shoulders like water rolling off his back, as if Will is the one entirely in control. And maybe Will is, Mike thinks, because his hand is firm on Mike’s shoulder and his fingers lace tightly with Mike’s other hand, and Will is staring at him with red lips and warm cheeks.
“Holy shit,” Mike says quietly. “It worked.”
“Mike,” Will says back, as if he’s trying to confirm it. Mike nods immediately, squeezing Will’s hand and moving close enough to Will to brush their noses together.
“It’s me, Will,” Mike reassures him. “I’m here. I’m here.”
“You’re here,” Will murmurs, and then he fixes Mike with a look Mike can only describe as the kind of love that makes you go crazy. Mike knows, he feels it too.
“Kiss me again,” Will says, urgent and certain. “Kiss me again, Mike, please.”
So Mike does. He’s not sure why Will wants Mike to kiss him again, rather than get all the vines off of him and get him the fuck out of there, but he’s never been one to refuse Will anything. So he lets Will’s hand feel like fire on his shoulder as he leans in again and kisses Will, and where the first kiss was soft and tender the second kiss is harder and desperate, Will clinging onto Mike and kissing back with a fervent tenacity that Mike had never thought he would experience with Will. Mike kisses him the way he’s always wanted to, open–mouthed and desperate like this is the last time they’ll ever get to have each other like this. And it could be, Mike thinks. This very well could be the end.
The thought only fuels him further, and he can tell Will is thinking the same thing, because they pull away for a moment, Will’s lips halfway apart, and then they’re falling back into each other without a second thought. Mike leads Will through the kiss, letting it grow heated, letting Will take all of Mike as Mike gives all of himself to Will, the way it was always meant to be. They kiss like they have time, and they kiss like they’re running out of time, and they kiss like this is the last page of a story and they want to keep it going for as long as possible, because neither of them are ready to face the ending. And Mike can’t think of anything but I love you rushing like the ocean in his ears, I love you I love you I love you.
Distantly, Mike hears a sonic boom surround them, like the world’s largest guitar amplifier just emitted a screeching noise of feedback. Mike opens his eyes a crack when he hears it, getting ready to pull away and point it out to Will, but then Will is making a never mind that sort of noise and hauling Mike back in. Mike can feel something like electricity ripple around them, but then Will is kissing him like nothing else matters so he decides it doesn’t matter, and he holds his breath until Will is the one to pull away.
They’re both breathing heavy, the world silent around them, and Mike can’t hear anything but the way Will pants, and he can’t see anything but the blood on Will’s upper lip, and Mike gets the distinct feeling that his mouth is smeared with the same blood. When Mike looks into Will’s eyes there’s something magic there, and Will’s mouth curves up into the smallest smile, his gaze darting upwards, and Mike follows it, and then he gasps.
“Will,” Mike says, eyes wide as he stares at the sky. “What—”
It’s the aftermath of a shockwave. Mike can still see it pulsating red, rings of sonic shock spreading through the Upside Down, so far above them it’s like a separate galaxy. Below it, surrounding Mike and Will is a shimmering dome of golden, light refracting and arcing over their heads like shooting stars. The gold stretches around them like an electromagnetic field, like a protection spell, like a shield. And Mike knows—this is Will. Somehow, someway, in some miraculous reclamation of Vecna’s powers, this is Will.
Mike looks back at Will, who is looking right at Mike, uncaring of the magic surrounding them. Will just takes Mike in and smiles, with so much love.
“I’ll always save you, too,” Will says, before kissing Mike softly. When Will leans back the vines fall away from him, the bed of vines sinking to the ground like the snakes Mike had beheaded to get here, and a few tendrils slowly wrap around the handle of Mike’s sword, presenting it back to him like it really is Excalibur, and Mike is worthy of its weight. Mike picks it up, feels it heavy in his hands, and watches the vines disintegrate into dust. They’re standing up now, under a blanket of starlight, Will’s hand in Mike’s. Somehow, this feels like more than just the ending of a fairy tale. It feels like the beginning of an epic.
Mike turns to look at Will, disbelief in his voice as he huffs a laugh to himself. Will laughs with him, leaning into Mike’s side, and his eyes sparkle with joy.
“Hi,” Mike says, unsure where to go from here.
“Hi,” Will says back, and then he looks at Mike, as if he’s really taking him in for the first time, and his expression shadows with concern. “Mike, you’re bleeding everywhere.”
“Oh, shit,” Mike sighs. “I had to do a lot to get here, Will, you have no idea. First I had to fight a fucking Demogorgon with nothing but this sword, and then I had to cut through this—this wall of vines to get to you, and the thorns scratched me everywhere and the Demo clawed right across my chest. But I’m fine, Will, seriously.”
Will barely listens to him, his eyes instead glued to Mike’s other hand. “You have a sword.”
“Oh, yeah,” Mike laughs, a little sheepish. “It’s Dustin’s.”
“You fought a Demo,” Will lists, “and cut through vines with a sword, and then kissed me to wake me up. You’re like—-you’re incredible, Mike. You’re just like my—”
“Knight in shining armor?”
“Yeah,” Will sighs, and then he blushes. “Like when we were kids. True love’s kiss.”
Mike can’t help but crack a small smile. “Guess I predicted it, huh?”
“Guess you did.” Will smiles back. “You’re my hero.”
Mike flames red. “Shut up.”
Will hums to himself, seemingly satisfied. Mike isn’t.
“I love you too, by the way.”
Will turns to look at him, and shock colors his eyes for one moment before it’s replaced with sheer and utter happiness, the type Mike has always loved to put on Will’s face. Since they were kids, making Will happy has always been Mike’s superpower.
“I love you,” Will replies. Simple as that. Mike gets it. Loving Will is the easiest thing he’s ever done, even if it took a lot of hardship to realize it. He’ll never regret getting here.
Will reaches up with his free hand to wipe the blood off his upper lip, and Mike watches as the field above them ripples, shaking with exertion. Mike frowns.
“Will, we’ve got to get out of here. I don’t know how long you can hold this up.”
“I know.” Will nods. “Vecna’s still out there. He got me in this trance, but he only did it because he separated us. Now you’re with me, and we can find El and Hop and the others, and we can fight him. We can fight him again, and we can save Holly and the kids.”
“Yeah,” Mike says, and he finds himself nodding back, more and more confident. “Yeah, we’ve got this. We can get back to the others, we can save everyone.”
“And we can do it together,” Will says. “Me and you, like always.”
A final memory: Mike and Will, five years old, playing in the sandbox at kindergarten. They’ve been best friends for a few weeks now. Mike is teaching Will about pinky promises.
“A pinky promise means forever,” Mike had told Will.
“Like me and you?” Will had asked.
“Just like us!” Mike had agreed.
And they’d pinky promised on it: Will and Mike, like always.
Here they are now: Mike grinning, holding up his pinky. Will links his with Mike’s, and slowly the golden forcefield comes down, and they face whatever’s next together.
“Me and you,” Mike says. “Always.”
Will grins at Mike and holds up his pinky. “Promise?”
Mike locks his with Will’s, grinning back. “Promise.”