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“How long are they gonna take?” Mike’s voice chops through the walkie speaker, a harsh tone of impatience in his words.
Nancy, leaning against a wall vacant of flesh vines, grips the device tighter in her hand. She sighs, “At least half an hour.” The other line goes silent. Nancy can make the educated guess that her brother is bitching to Lucas right now. She becomes redirected as she glances at the boy sitting on the ground juxtaposing her. Nancy mentions, “The last thing we need at the end of the world is to complain.”
After a beat, Will’s head tilts up to look at Nancy. “Oh, yeah. Well, that’s Mike for you.” He slowly gets up from his spot on the floor, “Sometimes, nothing changes,” he gives a small, insincere smile. The stress is radiating off of him, and very understandably. The Upside Down does not bring back good memories.
“You doing alright?” Nancy asks, already knowing the real answer. Her eyes watch him as he begins walking down the hall.
“Yeah, as much as I can be.” He mumbles, straightening out his jacket, “I’ll be back in a few.” Just as quick as he got that sentence out, he turned past a corner and he was out of sight.
Increasing his walking pace, Will anxiously cracks his knuckles while trekking over the trip-hazard of vines on the floor. It’s like he’s rollerskating between cones, unable to slow down despite it all. Sometimes it seems his body thinks for itself in the face of danger. He needs a quick moment by himself to process it all, to prepare to be the bravest he’s been in all his life.
The dissociation is gone in a split second as a figure drifts around a turn at the end of the hall, only 5 feet away. Will, jumping out of his skin, perfectly trips on a vine as he halts, plummeting forward. Disoriented and afraid, Will doesn’t realize that the delayed hands trying to catch his fall were indeed human, so he sharply hits the ground with full certainty he will die. That is, until the palms held against his chest feel warm. The ever-repeating curse words were a strong indication of a human too.
“You scared the shit out of me, Will.” Mike worriedly exhales, moving his hands up to grab his shoulders. “Fuck. Are you hurt? What were you doing over here?”
Not a monster. Will looks up to see Mike’s drawn eyebrows, making him sigh in relief. Will pushes himself up carefully to sit upright, Mike kneeling in front of him awaiting answers. His hands loosen up on his shoulders. “Yeah, um, I don’t know.” He says quietly, voice hoarse. “I was just getting some space.” Will’s wavering tone and sensitive, tearful eyes were quite a sight for Mike. Not to mention, the scrape among the side of his face from sliding across the cracking concrete floor.
Mike takes his hands off of Will and stares at the bleeding scratches. He thinks for a moment, and interrupting Will’s beginning of an apology, urges again “Are you hurt, Will?” Mike would typically be carrying his backpack on him that contains an expensive first aid kit, but he kept the bag with Lucas in case anything happened up there while he was alone.
“I’m fine, I-I think…” Will looks down at his also scraped, shaking hands, “just scratched myself up.”
“Let’s get you up, then.” Mike responds in a softer, yet determined tone. He stands up and, without asking, takes Will’s hand and gently pulls him upward. Will shifts his feet and winces slightly, but nonetheless stands up. There’s an odd, tingling sensation on the side of Will’s face, to which he puts a hand to, and his cheek stings. The now removed hand is bloodied more so than it had been.
Before Will can try to speak again, Mike has let go of his hand, 20 paces away, and is struggling to take something off the wall. “Never mind,” Mike shouts to him, “I found one of those emergency kits right here.” He pulls too hard and the kit’s plastic breaks and its contents spill. Back again with the sailor’s mouth as Mike picks up whatever materials he feels necessary, rushing back over with his arms full.
“Careful.” Will warns, not wanting him to trip just like he did. Mike scoffs with a small smile in return, and Will sinks back to sitting on the floor. Everything felt so sore when he moved, but he brushed it off. He’ll go through a lot worse when facing Vecna.
The supplies are dropped at Will’s feet by Mike, panting in slight stress. “Okay, well, hands first.” He breaks the seal and opens a bottle of isopropyl alcohol to flush and sanitize Will’s wounds. “This stuff doesn’t hurt.” Mike reassures as he dabs it onto his own sleeve. He left the cotton balls over where he dropped everything. Will doesn’t flinch as Mike grabs his hand and carefully starts cleaning the cuts. Mike was always the one to help someone in the Party if one of them fell while riding their bike. He’s probably had to do that twice before for Will, in fact. Even though the minor abrasions hurt, something in his chest did more. That nervousness wasn’t improving. His eyes no longer wet, but he felt the need to cry as panic held him. It’s hard to not let your mind race in times like this.
“All good?” Mike asks quietly as he puts down the clean hand and takes the other one. Will nods in response. Even as Mike focuses on aiding his friend, the heavy silence between them weighs. He’s curious, but doesn’t wanna pry...
Okay, just one question while they’re here alone.
“Who’s Tammy?”
“Wh- oh, it’s- it’s not important, Mike.” Way to not sound suspicious. Will looks up at Mike. Here comes the stubbornness.
“She seemed pretty significant. At least to Robin when you mentioned her.” Mike pauses for a second. “Did you and Tammy date before?”
“No, no. Of course not.” Will responds quickly.
Mike continues cleaning his cuts, looking down. “Well, then, can’t you tell me?”
It was futile to argue this point, so Will lets out a long sigh. “Do you remember Tammy Thompson? She would sing a lot, even though-“
“-she was god awful? Yeah, what about her?” He questions, confused on where this is going.
“Well…” Will ponders for a moment more, “Robin was talking to me and mentioned her. Tammy was like- like Robin’s Whitney Houston. Or, she thought she sounded like her.” Will’s slightly surprised Mike hasn’t interrupted yet, but instead is listening while he finds some plasters out of the jumbled medical pile. Will swallows, “Tammy was Robin’s first crush. But- But Tammy didn’t like girls, and Robin eventually found out that she didn’t need to- to chase this person who won’t like her back… just to feel whole. To find herself.” Will exhales a trembling, sputtered breath. Don’t cry, he keeps repeating to himself in his head, don’t you dare tear up.
Mike drenches the end of his sleeve again, reaching his covered hand over Will’s cheek. It’s hard for him to keep his attention on taking care of him when he’s, well, right here. Right here and upset. Those tears just hanging in his eyes as he tries to look away. “And, you have a ‘Tammy?’” Mike checks he’s understanding the situation right. He dabs more alcohol onto his sleeve.
A blink breaks loose Will’s tears, and he nods delicately. “Yeah.” He breaths, holding back his panic threatening to entirely break through. After a few moments of realizing his face isn’t being touched, Will looks at Mike and finds him watching him right back. He has that unreadable expression on, but he so wishes he could go inside of Mike’s head and know what he’s thinking.
The question drops, quietly from Mike, “Who?” Both of their hearts are speeding with anticipation. “I won’t tell, Will. You know that.” His voice drops to a whisper.
“I just…” Will half-suppresses a sob, volume as low as Mike’s. “I don’t want to change or ruin anything.” More tears fall off his cheeks, and he covers his mouth.
Mike continues to clean the wound on Will’s cheek, remaining stoic. “You couldn’t ruin anything, especially not between us.” Mike gently turns Will’s head away from himself with his free hand to better see his work. Briefly thereafter, Will lowers his hand and drops a hint.
“Not even if it were you?”
Will can now feel a slight shakiness in Mike’s hand as he just finishes, taking both hands off of him. Will hesitantly turns to look at him. Mike’s head is hung down, watching his own hands unwrap a plaster. They’re both practically holding their breaths. Nervously, Mike responds almost incoherently, “I don’t think I could be a ‘Tammy.’” His eyes only quickly catch Will’s, then he starts applying the bandage onto the side of Will’s face. “Well, if it were me.” He gives a fake laugh, discarding the plaster wrapper. Although he’s finished cleaning Will up, he didn’t move back.
Mike’s eyes, at last, land on Will’s slightly confused, but more surprised than anything ones. “Then who would you be? If- if it is you?” Will feels inclined to move closer to Mike, but is frozen awaiting his answer.
They both stare at each other before Mike speaks up, an equal level of anxiety shared between the two of them. “Do you like me like that?” He asks cautiously.
There is an absence of an answer from Will. There are only his wide, wet eyes on top of his shameful expression. His wide, wet eyes on his surprised expression when one harsh, barely romantic move of Mike’s hands on his jaw jerks him forward into a kiss. It’s a tense, still fearful, and sudden action that speaks beyond words. They could both feel the force of how Mike pressed his face against his best friend’s, how Will can feel some of Mike’s teeth pressed on his lips. No breath is taken or released. The desperation is raw and real.
The kiss is gone after several seconds as Mike swiftly pulls himself back, distancing himself from Will. They both sit opposite each other in the hall, quietly wheezing. Neither of them wanted this to happen this way.
Mike skitters to his feet like a spooked cat, eyes on Will. He wants to run. Mike’s expression of pain and yearning countered Will’s sudden hope right there. “I’m sorry.” Mike whispers, his own eyes tearing up.
“No,” Will suddenly blurts out, standing up, “no, don’t apologize.” Will leaps towards Mike and hugs him tightly, to which Mike flinches, but wraps his arms snug around Will’s waist. Murmurs of dread and reassurance cycle between them as the tables turn from just a few minutes ago. Mike spills so much uncertainty and insecurity he's kept towards himself that Will was previously oblivious to.
In that vulnerable moment, a foreign voice calls Will’s name, and Mike quickly pushes himself apart from the embrace.
“Will? Are you okay?” Joyce calls out, nearing.
Will pleads Mike to stay with only his sad eyes, but he’s already fleeing. Mike looks back for a short moment, shouting to Will, “I’ll see you when Henry’s dead.”
“What happened, honey?” Joyce sees Will by the end of the hall, plasters and scratches littering his skin. Will turns to his mom, but doesn’t cry this time.
“I tripped. I’m alright, mom.” He approaches her, and she can see clear as day that he did not only fall. The redness of Will’s eyes told Joyce that maybe she shouldn’t pry this time.
She sighs. “Okay. I wanted to get you to help out with the salt tub, but you don’t need to if you’re not doing well.”
“I will.” Will responds quickly, wiping remaining tears staining his face. He begins down the hallway back to the sensory deprivation tanks, watching every step he takes.
“Are you sure?” Joyce follows close behind.
“Yeah. We’re killing Vecna once and for all.”