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1983
The air was damp and dark, and he could barely see. He was surrounded by shadows, vague outlines of reaching, grasping monsters, towering above him. They’re trees, he thought to himself, trying to ignore the terror pulsing through him. They’re just trees. There’s no such thing as monsters, not in real life. Something sharp scraped against his arm, and he let out a scream, a scream that echoed through the nothingness around him, and he desperately scrambled away from whatever had touched him, a human finger, an animal’s claw, a monster’s talon -
A branch. A tree branch, hanging low to the ground. Of course it was, because there was no such thing as monsters. He was fine, he was going to be fine. He was lost in the woods near his house, that was all. As long as he kept walking, he’d be home soon. It was dark, so dark, and surely when he made it home, Mom and Johnathan would be back from work, and he’d walk through the door to the sound of his brother’s music playing through his door, his mom’s TV show blaring. Or maybe they were out looking for him - if it was this dark, this late, they’d probably be worried. If he kept on going, he’d hear their voices calling for him, ringing out into the night. And he’d follow the sound, follow it to them, and to home, and light, and safety. Out of this cold, dark, nowhere.
But hadn’t he been home already? He could have sworn he’d biked home from Mike’s, racing Dustin down the road. And he had made it home, hadn’t he? He’d biked as fast as he could, and then ran faster, adrenaline pumping through his body. Why had he been going so fast? Why had he been biking as if his life depended on it? He tried to think, but his head hurt. There had been a splitting pain in his head for a while. Since… the whole time he remembered being here, to be honest. How had he got here, anyway? The last thing he remembered was…
Lights flickering. A creature. A monster. Chasing him, hunting him. The phone disconnected, and his dad’s gun. And the monster, there, towering above him.
His hands were shaking, and his heart was pounding. He’d hit his head. He’d fallen off his bike, and hit his head somehow. That explained the pain, the weird gap in his memory, and the impossible, impossible image of that thing, slimy and towering and screeching, slowly moving towards him, unflinching from his dad’s gun. He’d hit his head and gotten lost, and now all he had to do was walk until he reached his home or his mom.
A horrible thought struck him then. The woods were vast, and it was so dark. What if he’d already passed his mom? What if Johnathan had passed him, calling his name, while he was out cold? What if they’d missed him lying there on the ground? What if he was walking in the wrong direction, aimlessly stumbling through the dark, getting deeper and deeper into the unknown? When he was a kid, his mom had told him if he ever got lost, he should stay exactly where he was. That way I’ll find you as quick as I can, he could hear her voice saying in his ear. He was so stupid, stupid for wandering off into the dark by himself. For all he knew, he’d made everything ten times worse for himself.
Something hit his foot. Something slimy and wet, like some kind of giant slug. A monster - no such thing as monsters - He stumbled over it, almost landing headfirst onto the ground below. After regaining his balance, he squinted behind him, trying desperately to see what he’d nearly fallen over. Everything was shrouded in darkness, it was almost impossible to see anything. Slowly, keeping his ears alert for any sign of anything coming towards him, he crouched to the ground, tentatively reaching out. His fingers brushed something and he yanked his hand away, stifling a yelp. It was a vine of some sort, slimy and somehow, somewhat alive. It was pulsing slightly, as if it were breathing. It’s just the woods. It’s some weird plant, that’s all. He would have to ask Mr Clarke about it when he got back to school. He’d probably know. And he’d have to bring Dustin to see this, Dustin who was so desperate to make a grand scientific discovery and name it after himself. He’d let him take the glory, he thought to himself, as long as he made it home okay.
Think. Where would his mom look for him first? Castle Byers. Castle Byers, of course. All he had to do was find it, his sanctuary, and wait. Mom and Johnathan would check there a hundred times, more even. As long as he found it, he’d be found. And he’d be safe.
Safe from, hypothetically, any monsters roaming the woods near his house.
Behind him, a screech echoed out, ringing from the dark unknown.
1987
The gate was huge. Will craned his neck and stared up, up, up, and the sheer size of it was enough to make him almost regret convincing his mom to let him help with the plan. A blinding red light shone through what looked like a thin layer of slime coating the entrance, surrounded by twisting, pulsing vines. Vines that caused his stomach to twist, nausea rising inside him. He recognised those vines, recognised them all too well.
“Jesus.” The voice beside him broke him out of his thoughts, and he turned his head slightly to look at the boy beside him. Mike’s eyes were wide, and the red of the gate reflected slightly in them. The gentle red glow against the warm brown reminded Will of childhood Christmases, Mike staring eagerly up at the twinkling lights on a Christmas tree, wonder and excitement radiating from his body. Except now the only emotion in his eyes was fear. Will had to resist the urge to reach out to him.
“Yeah,” he said instead, a tremor in his voice that gave away his own terror. Mike turned his head to look at him, and their eyes met. Will’s breath hitched slightly, and tried to ignore the fact that Mike’s had, too. Now’s not the time to look for signs, Will. Get it together.
“You okay?” Mike said, his voice soft, and despite himself Will felt his heart melt a little. There was something about the way Mike spoke to him that made him feel weak, no matter how often he heard his voice.
“Yeah,” he said again, because what else could he say, really? Words couldn’t express how he felt, standing moments away from the place that changed his life. Moments away from the cold, the dark, the looming trees and twisting vines, and the monsters that hid in the shadows. He was terrified, almost paralysed with it. He was angry. Angry because, despite all the reassurances he’d given his mom, his insistence that he was ready for this, he wanted nothing more than to turn around and run. And he was shameful, humiliated, because his nerves were failing him at this crucial point, and he was going to let everyone down, right when he could finally be of use. How could he sum that all up into an acceptable, honest answer to whether he was okay?
But looking into Mike’s eyes, he felt the shame and anger subside a little. Only a little, but enough for the fear to truly take over, spilling out of him in the form of tears, tears gathering in his eyes and on his eyelashes. “I don’t think I can do it, Mike,” he whispered, his voice breaking as the tears threatened to escape his eyes. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have been able to say it. But Mike was different. He could show Mike his weaknesses, and still be seen as strong. He knew that he’d understand.
Mike glanced down Will’s hands, and Will followed his gaze. They were shaking, he hadn’t noticed that, properly shaking, and Mike reached out and held them tightly in his grasp. The warmth from his skin was a comfort he hadn’t known he needed.
“Yes, you can,” Mike said, his voice somehow firm and gentle at the same time. “I know you can.”
Will could feel Mike's eyes on him, but he couldn’t look up from their hands. His hands engulfed in Mike’s.
“You’re the bravest person I know, Will. The strongest. You’re a sorcerer, remember?”
And despite everything, Will laughed, and it came out a little bit like a sob, but he looked up and met Mike’s eyes and smiled, and Mike smiled back, and oh god he lit up when he smiled. He’s so beautiful.
“Listen,” Mike said, quieter now, more serious, as he leaned in a little. “We’ll go through, and the second you say, we’ll come straight back out. If we get in there and you can’t do it, we can leave. I promise.”
“I can’t let everyone down, Mike.”
“You won’t be letting anyone down. And anyway, if you want, we can come back out, breathe, and go back in. However you want it to go, that’s how we’ll do it.” He cocked his head slightly, staring deep into Will’s eyes as though he was reading his mind, which, to be fair, he probably was. Mike had a way of knowing exactly what he was thinking.
“If you freak out,” he continued, clearly having seen Will’s main worry, “I’ll make sure I get you out. No matter what, Will, I’m getting you out of there. I promise.”
“Okay,” Will whispered back, taking a deep breath. “Okay. I can do this.”
Mike grinned, straightening up. One of his hands left Will’s, and Will felt a little bit of cold disappointment touch his heart, but the other hand stayed, wrapped around his like a safety net. Mike gave his hand a quick squeeze, and Will squeezed back, and together they walked towards that horrible memory.
1983
He was singing to himself, singing softly, his voice trembling. He was shaking, but whether it was from the cold, or the fear, he wasn’t sure. He kept his eyes shut tight, as if his lack of vision would shield him from the horrors surrounding him, would make the dark, uncanny scene around him disappear.
“Should I stay or should I go now?” Thunder echoed above his head, and the wind howled, sounding monstrous and alive, creeping ever closer. No such thing as monsters.
“Should I stay or should I go now?” The song was the only thing keeping him going, the only thing keeping him sane. The memory of Johnathan playing it for him, the two of them sitting on his bed as it played, it sustained him, bringing him a sense of warmth despite the biting cold of the night sky. He had no idea what time it was, where he was, or why his mom hadn’t found him yet. He’d been lying here in Castle Byers for hours now, huddled up and shivering, and he hadn’t heard a voice except from his own once. No search party, no Johnathan, no Mom.
“If I stay there will be trouble…” He was starting to lose hope. Should he have kept moving? If he’d kept going, maybe he’d have found home by now. Maybe he’d be tucked up in bed, being lectured by his mom about staying safe on the roads. Maybe this nightmare would have been over.
“And if I go there will be double.” On the other hand, maybe he’d be even worse off. He had no idea where he was, but he had a feeling it wasn’t the woods near his house. Not as he remembered them, anyway. Sure, he was in Castle Byers, but it was … different. When he’d arrived, his colourful signs had been duller than usual, and those disgusting, sickening vines had been sprawled across them. Something was off. Something was different. But what, he had no idea.
“So, come on and let me know…” His heart was racing. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. And the unsettling feeling that he was being watched crept up on him, making his stomach twist into knots. He tried to comfort himself with the thought of his father’s gun lying beside him, but the dread in his stomach didn’t dissipate. Something was very, very wrong.
“Should I stay or should I go?”
A twig snapped outside. He gasped, the icy cold hand of terror wrenching his heart, and sat bolt upright. Heavy footsteps thundered, just outside Castle Byers. A growl, low and threatening, followed. Something was out there. Something that was definitely not human. No such thing as monsters. He could hear his own heavy breathing, could feel his chest heaving, but couldn’t move. He was frozen to the ground with sheer terror. And then he saw it. A shadow. A shadow of a creature, something huge and animalistic, prowling right in front of him. A few steps away. No such thing as monsters no such thing as monsters no such thing as -
The twigs making up the wall of Castle Byers were smashed to pieces, thrown aside as if they were nothing, followed by a blur of grey and slime and claw. Without a second thought, he twisted to the side and snatched up the gun, aiming it in a rush at whatever was attacking his sanctuary. He was met with the stuff of nightmares. That looming, awful thing was there, grey and slimy, and it shrieked at him, its awful mouth opening and splitting off into triangles, and it looked like a flower, a deadly, murderous flower, and it was shrieking, and he was going to die if he didn’t act now. Trying to ignore the terror attacking him, he shot. The creature stumbled backwards, staggering, and he ran, he ran faster than he ever had before, and the gun slipped out of his hands but he couldn’t stop to pick it up, all he could do was run. Behind him he could hear that shriek again, but somehow angrier, more bloodthirsty, and he ran faster, as fast as his tiny legs would go, bolting towards who knows what. He ran through those towering trees with their evil reaching branches, not daring to look behind him, blood rushing through his ears. There. Up ahead was a tree, a tree with branches lower than the rest, a sort of ladder, and he pushed desperately onwards. Get up as high as you can, get up there, where it can’t get you. He reached it but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t catch his breath, because it was chasing him, and if he stopped he would die. He hauled himself up, his muscles screaming, pulled himself up, up, up. Lightning struck above him, blood red, and he was almost there now, almost at the top, just a few more branches to go. Finally, he made it, panting, gasping for breath, adrenaline coursing through his body. Terrified at what he might see, he looked down. Fog obstructed his view of the ground, and there was something eerie about the silence, the stillness. He waited. Is it gone?
Movement. A hiss. It was there. It was right there, stalking the ground below. Did it know he was there too? Would it look up and see him? Or would it pass him by, continuing its search elsewhere? He waited. And waited. And just as hope began to creep into his heart -
The creature leapt upwards, its claws reaching out towards him, its horrible mouth opened in a deafening roar. He screamed. It landed beneath him, the sheer size of it shaking the tree, and immediately started scaling the tree, climbing with a terrifying agility. Desperation seized him, and he glanced around, horrified, and there, there, another branch, another tree, just close enough. He could make it. He could. He had to jump. But fear had frozen his legs again, and that creature was getting closer.
Jump.
He flung himself forwards, off the tree, and into the air. He felt as if he was flying for a brief, brief moment, and then he was falling, falling. He felt the claws of the creature graze his ankle before falling away, and exhilaration flooded his veins. He reached out his arms, and for a horrible second he thought he wouldn’t make it, but then the bark scraped his palms and he gripped onto it tight. But he didn’t have time to celebrate, because he’d used too much force, and he swung around, his stomach dropping out of his chest. The branch slipped from his grasp. And he was falling again, branches hitting his back hard as he went, the pain of it shooting up his spine repeatedly. You’re going to die. He was going to hit the ground and die on impact, after all that effort. It was ironic, really, and so, so unfair. He’d shot at a monster and ran for his life and scaled a tree and jumped through the dark night sky and it hadn’t been enough. Another branch snapped underneath him, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the thud, the pain, and the end. And then, miraculously, he stopped. The straps of his backpack snagged on a branch, leaving him dangling there, the force of it snatching the air from his lungs. His feet hung below him, and he kicked his legs, desperate. He needed to get back to the ground, back to running. He struggled, writhing around, before he felt himself slipping. He turned his head. The straps of his backpack were loosening, slowly but surely, and all he could do was watch it happen, eyes wide. The right strap fell completely open.
He fell, for a few short moments, then hit the ground with a thud. He felt a cold, clawed hand wrap around his ankle. And the world went dark.
1987
The film of slime was the first thing to almost set him off. Something about the cold of it, the way it clung to his skin, made every nerve in his body scream at him to turn back and run. But Mike was still holding his hand, and the human connection made him feel stronger, safer, braver. You’re a sorcerer. Your power is innate. It was childish, stupid, but he clung to the words, trying to draw as much power from them as he would have as a child, sat in Mike’s basement playing D&D with the party. Back when demogorgons weren’t real, and all he had to do to save the day was roll a dice. As the two of them broke through the barrier, the air shifted, becoming damp and cold, and the world around them shifted. They were no longer standing on a quiet residential street in Hawkins. They were in the Upside Down.
“Jesus,” Mike muttered, letting out a low whistle. His voice sounded breathless, and Will could picture the look on his face; the wide eyes, filled with a mix of fear and awe, the slightly parted lips, the scrunched eyebrows. Dimly, he registered Mike say something else, maybe directed at him, but he wasn’t sure, couldn’t make it out, because his ears were ringing, loud and piercing, drowning out everything else. He was back, back here, back where he’d never wanted to set foot again. The houses, the streetlights, the picket fences and small brick walls guarding front porches, they were all covered in those awful vines, wet and alive and breathing, oozing slime onto everything they touched. And suddenly he was running, running through the dark, stumbling and crying and terrified. Castle Byers and climbing a tree and falling, falling, falling, and a roar, a shriek, and something in his mouth -
“Will!” A hand was on his shoulder, a hand was touching his face and it was cold and clammy and this hand was warm, and soft, and Mike’s, and it was gripping his shoulder, not his face. Will’s chest was heaving, and his breaths were coming out in short, shallow gasps. “Will, breathe,” Mike was saying, his voice like honey, like home. His other hand was on Will’s chest now, rising and falling with it, right over his heart. Slowly, Will managed to take deeper breaths, closing his eyes to escape from the awfulness around him. Focusing on Mike’s hands, Mike’s warmth. The two of them stood there for a moment, silent and still, and Will was grateful for it, for the space, the time to calm himself down. Eventually, he opened his eyes again, looking at Mike, because if he looked at the horrible place around him, he might lose it again.
“Okay?” Mike asked softly, his eyebrows raised slightly, his eyes wide.
Will nodded shakily. “I’m okay. I just - being back here…” His eyes began to wander back to the vines, the greyness, the awfulness.
“Hey,” Mike said, his hand leaving Will’s chest to guide his face back to him. “Just keep your eyes on me, okay? Just pretend it’s just us, back in Hawkins. Will it work like that?”
“It should do,” Will answered, glad to be back to focusing on the plan, glad to be back looking at Mike. “As long as he’s nearby, I’ll feel it.”
“Feel anything yet?”
“No.” Other than Mike’s hands on his skin and the hammering of his heart, Will couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t feel the tingling on his neck, a telltale sign of Vecna’s presence.
Mike glanced to the side, swallowing hard. “Okay. I think we need to get closer to the wall.”
Will followed his gaze, dread filling his heart. Just beyond the houses was the very thing they’d come for. If the gate had been huge, the wall was even worse. It towered above them, above the houses, above everything in sight. Even from where they stood, a few houses away from it, Will could make out the thick vines that made up the wall, twisting together and pulsing slightly, and the huge spheres of pus between them. The entire thing looked fleshy and alive. His body started to shake again.
“Hey, eyes on me, remember?” Mike said, turning Will’s attention back to him. “Don’t look at it. We need your focus on Vecna, yeah? I’m gonna get us closer, just follow my lead. We’ll be okay.”
Will nodded, clinging to Mike’s hand, and Mike slowly started to guide them towards the wall, periodically switching between having his eyes on the wall and his eyes on Will. Will didn’t take his eyes off of Mike.
And as they approached the wall, Will began to feel a tingling sensation on the back of his neck. Faintly at first, but as they got closer, it got stronger, every hair on his neck standing on end, goosebumps erupting across his skin. They were only a few feet away from the wall when he felt a stabbing pain in his neck. He let out a yelp, instinctively reaching up and clasping the back of his neck. Mike immediately swivelled his head around to look at him, worry filling his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, glancing around for any dangers behind them. “Is it…”
The pain wasn’t stopping. It felt as though a million needles were being stabbed into his skin, in and out, in and out, a barrage of sharp, stinging jabs. “It’s - it’s him,” Will managed to get out, his head starting to ache. “He’s close. He’s so close, Mike.”
Mike’s terror was clear in his expression, the same cold dread that filled Will’s stomach. The idea of Vecna being mere feet away from them was terrifying, but on top of that, the two were armed only with a gun each, which Mike could only passably use, and Will hadn’t touched since the last time he’d been in the Upside Down. Sure, Will had his newfound powers, but he had no idea if they were any match for Vecna. If they came face to face with him…
Mike seemed to have the same thought. “Right,” he said quickly, swallowing hard. “We got what we came here for. He’s there, right? He’s behind that wall. Him and all the kids. So we go back, we make a plan. We need to go.”
Will’s hands were shaking now, and a searing pain was splitting his head in two. The sensation in his neck was only getting worse, and there were spots in his vision, blindingly white from the pain.
“Will?”
“Mike-” he managed to get out. “Mike, he’s going to look-” His vision was completely blurry now, and his entire body shook violently. He felt Mike grip his arm tighter.
“Will, what’s happening?” Mike sounded terrified now. Will faintly heard the rolling of wheels, distant and faraway, like a moving vehicle. His eyes rolled up into his head.
“Mike, cover my eyes!” he shouted, knowing all too well what was coming. “Now!”
Mike complied not a moment too soon. He threw his palms over Will’s eyes, until all Will could see was darkness, and the pain in his head exploded. He let out a yell and stumbled, feeling himself fall through the air for a split second, before landing in someone’s arms. Mike.
“Will, what’s going on?” he shouted, terror seeping from every word.
“He’s watching,” Will choked out, before shouting in pain again, screwing his eyes tight shut, an extra layer of protection. If Vecna saw them here-
“Holy shit,” Mike whispered, and the sound of the vehicle was louder now, getting closer. What was that? Will wanted to ask, but the effort of fighting off Vecna was so extreme he couldn’t get any words out, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even cry out in pain anymore.
And then the first gunshot rang out.
1983
The first thing he was aware of was the fact that he couldn’t breathe. His lungs were burning, screaming for oxygen, but it was impossible. He couldn’t breathe. The second thing was the vines wrapped around him, tight and slimy and awful, pinning his arms to his sides and his body to the wall. He tried to move even slightly, but nothing. He was trapped. And the third thing, the worst thing of all, was the thing in his mouth. It was like one of the vines, but worse, because it was actually in him, and he couldn’t get it out, and he was choking on it, wheezing, gasping sounds escaping from his mouth. The vine was putting something inside him, something alive, and he wanted to be sick. His brain felt foggy, dazed and confused, and he had no idea where he was. He couldn’t see a thing. His head hurt even worse, a throbbing pain, his throat hurt, his chest hurt. Everything hurt. And he was utterly powerless.
A voice rang out, clear and cold against the buzz in his ears, the cloud in his mind. It was low and raspy, and sounded almost human, but with an evil in it that surely, surely couldn’t belong to any human. It was that of a monster.
“You and I…” it growled, and a hand was stroking his head, long nails scraping his skin, cold and wet and unwelcome. He wanted to push it away, fight back, but he couldn’t move a muscle. He was trapped.
“We are going to do such beautiful things together, William. Such beautiful things.”
1987
Mike shouted out in shock, but the sound of it was cut off by three more bullets, one after the other. Will had no idea what was going on, his head was spinning, searing with pain, and suddenly he was moving.
“Mike!” he shouted, forcing the words from his throat.
“Hold on,” Mike shouted back, and more gunshots echoed through the nothingness of the Upside Down, a tirade of bullets now, loud and painful to Will’s ears. Will felt Mike hauling him across the street, felt him stumble on what he could only imagine was one of those damn vines, felt his ankles drag along the damp ground. Mike was holding him tight and close, and they were moving so fast, he must have been running, somehow managing to pull Will along with him.
“Brace yourself,” he said, before flinging him onto the ground, and diving down on top of him. His palm never left Will’s eyes, keeping them covered, keeping the two of them safe. Or somewhat safe, because it sounded like they were in some kind of warzone. The gunshots were a wall of noise, deafening, and it seemed like Mike had thrown the two of them behind something to avoid being hit. The two of them were pressed together, Mike’s body on top of his, like Mike was trying to shield Will from the danger as much as possible. His other hand was covering one of Will’s ears, a futile attempt to block out the din of the bullets being fired.
“The military,” he said into Will’s ear, his mouth so close Will could feel the hot air of his breath. If he hadn’t been in so much pain, so terrified, the sensation would have left him breathless. Now, though, he could barely register their proximity to each other, the fact that they were closer to each other than they’d ever been before. The military. Whether they were shooting at Mike and Will, the wall, or something else entirely, Will had no idea. It didn’t really matter; their chances of being hit were equally as high, no matter the target. One small relief, however - the pain in his head was subsiding. Slowly, he felt Vecna’s presence pull away, until his eyes shifted back into his own body, and he could make out the dim outline of Mike’s palm. The stabbing pain in his neck returned to its regular tingle. He gasped, the relief of it shuddering through his body, allowing him to properly breathe again.
“Will!” Mike shouted over the din, fear dripping from his voice.
“I’m okay!” he shouted back. “Vecna’s gone. He’s not looking.” Then, after a pause - “You can take your hand away.”
Mike’s palm slid away from his eyes, and the sight that awaited Will took his breath away. Mike’s face was mere inches from his, so close Will could count the eyelashes on his eyes. For a moment, Will studied Mike’s face, the healing cut on his forehead, the cut on his slightly parted lips, his warm brown eyes that were somehow even more gorgeous up close. For a moment, he forgot where they were, forgot who they were, and was so, so tempted-
A crack rang out, a gunshot, and a bullet flew over Mike’s head, so close Will saw the speed of it ruffle Mike’s curls slightly. “Shit, Mike, get down!” he yelled, reaching up and grabbing the back of his head, pulling him down. Mike’s head fell into the crook of Will’s neck, pressing himself even closer to Will, and Will held him there, heart pounding with terror. He could feel Mike’s own heartbeat against his chest, feel every breath he took. He closed his eyes. If this was how it ended, it wasn’t the worst way to go.
He didn’t know how long they lay there for, listening to the gunfire roar above them. But eventually, after what felt like years, it subsided. The silence felt uncanny. Faintly, he heard a voice.
“Any damage done?” A man’s voice, serious and stern,
A second man spoke. “Doesn’t look like it. This fucking wall. Impenetrable.”
“Well, the doctor will be fuckin’ thrilled,” the first man drawled, earning a short laugh from the other. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Doors slammed shut, and the vehicles Will had heard - tanks? - retreated, until the hum of their engines faded into the distance.
Neither of them dared to move. Will was half expecting the gunfire to start again, or Vecna to take back control of his mind. Neither happened. The only thing that remained was silence, and their heavy breathing. After a while, Mike slowly lifted his head, eyes meeting Will’s. They were red, and Will knew he’d been crying. He looked terrified.
Will was the first to speak. “What was that?”
Mike sighed, and rolled off of Will, onto the ground beside him. “The military showed up right as you fell. I could see their tanks getting closer, just after that first gunshot. They were firing at the wall.”
“Imagine,” Will said, his voice altered slightly by his heavy breathing. “After all the supernatural shit we’ve been through, going out by being accidentally shot.”
Mike huffed out a laugh, turning his head to look at Will. They were lying side by side, both still shaking from the adrenaline. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Thanks,” Will finally said, staring deep into Mike’s eyes, despite the tears prickling at his own. “You know, for… being here. Saving my life.”
Mike stared back. “Any time.”
And maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the relief of being alive, or maybe it was just the right moment, something they’d both been waiting for. Mike’s eyes darted down to Will’s lips, and then back up. Will opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. And then he closed the few inches of distance between them, and Mike’s lips were on his. He tasted of mint and of blood, and he was kissing him back, propping himself up on his elbow and reaching out to hold Will’s cheek, kissing him harder, hungrily, as though he’d been starving. Will didn’t really know what he was doing, but it didn’t matter, because Mike did, and it all just felt so right, so surely he wasn’t doing too badly. Judging by Mike’s reaction he was doing something right, because Mike inhaled a little shakily, before leaning deeper into it, hand trailing down from Will’s face to his neck, before reaching his chest, where he lay his palm flat against him. Wil reached up to touch Mike’s hair, running his fingers through his curls, heart exploding inside his chest.
He had pictured this moment countless times, shamefully, secretly, in the dark safety of his room, feeling sick from the humiliation of it all. For the past two years, any time he had had an inkling of hope, a tiny suspicion that the feeling was mutual, his excitement had been tinged with embarrassment, hatred even. But now, at that moment, he didn’t feel any of it. All he could feel was his heart swelling inside him, his love radiating from him, the glowing warmth wherever Mike was touching him.
It was all so right, so natural, as though they were always meant to end up here, like this, lying here together, trembling and terrified and absolutely enthralled with each other, clinging to each other like it was the end of the world.
And we kissed as though nothing could fall
And the shame was on the other side
Oh, we can beat them forever and ever
Then we can be heroes
Just for one day