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Ahead the sky bleeds, dark inevitable streaks of red tumbling through the clouds, descending into the already fractured earth below. There remains a vibration, from when it all kicked off. But now, now it’s beginning to subside, he can feel it underneath his feet.
Crafted by the hands of God, he stands, pale and breathing, somewhere beyond where Mike’s eyes can fully focus. His features blend into a soft haze, blurred with Mike’s persevering tears. But he knows that it is Will.
And he also knows that it’s over. It’s really over.
And all he can look at is his best friend, far too far away - his outline metres and metres ahead. He cannot imagine how this all feels for Will, to have the thing that has sunk him for over four years to be gone, or at least so far on the way out that it is impossible to come back.
They stand, opposite and distant, neither having the strength to move right now. Mike’s staring, and here he is crying, shaking with his tears because his best friend is free, because he is free and it is over.
A blur of people surround them, calamitous in the way that they are struggling around each other, clinging onto loved ones that have made it out of the apocalypse, the final battle, alive. He can hear muffled reunions from everywhere in his vicinity.
God knows where the rest of his family are, where everyone else is. But he’s pretty aware that they’re safe so it doesn’t really matter, not right now anyway. What does matter is Will. His Will.
Will who is so close yet so far over there, amongst the rubble and debris.
Mike watches as his shoulders shudder, and he thinks he can see another sob escape Will’s mouth. And just like that Mike limbs begin to kick in and his brain starts to connect with whatever is going on in his heart.
His leg is fucked- has been for at least half of today - the pain searing and unlike anything he has felt before. But somehow he quickly forgets about it, and although it probably slows him down, he doubts that either him or Will are going to care. And so he stumbles forward, dragging his leg behind him with a kind of vigour that he doesn’t think he’s ever had, even uninjured, even before it all.
It takes so much longer than it should, attempting to avoid all the damage that has been unleashed onto Hawkins, especially in the past forty eight hours.
But then it comes. Sweet surrender.
Because Will is suddenly a meter away, and he’s crying more than Mike had thought he was from afar, but it’s mixed with something sweet and kind of well, beautiful. It’s mixed with relief.
And then Mike is reaching out, closing that awful gap between them. He’s pulling Will in, using all the strength he can muster up to push Will into his body, gripping his shoulders with an unmatchable fervency.
Will clings back, and Mike can feel him everywhere, closing around him like the first breath of fresh air. Mike is crying again, heavy with the tears streaming down his dirt smothered cheeks, collecting in a mess at his jaw.
They are holding each other so tight and a flash of a memory appears, slightly unwanted, of months and months ago now, where he couldn’t even bring himself to do more than touch Will’s arms. It’s crazy what an apocalypse can do.
“Mike.” Will whispers, the word tickling his ear lightly. Mike shifts, only slightly, until their foreheads rest together, quiet in the chaos.
Mike breathes, watching Will with a soft smile. “He’s gone. It’s over.” Will’s face, so close to his own, cracks with a huge, watery grin the words evidently sinking in.
He can see a multitude of cuts, etched into Will’s grimy skin, the blood mixing with the dirt and for a second Mike’s own smile falters. He can see Will register it, a small look of apprehension settling in there.
“What’s wrong?” Will asks, and Mike can almost feel the question written on his face.
Mike makes sure to amend his expression, settling into something he hopes is more gentle. “It’s just, your face. It’s all cut up.”
To Mike’s surprise Will lets out a small laugh, the smile quick to return. “Mike have you seen yourself.” Will says back, rubbing his hands down Mike’s forearm. He hasn’t seen, but it doesn’t matter.
“It doesn’t matter.” Mike replies, and after a second he lifts his head from its resting spot, the inkling of a blush beginning to crawl out from under his sweater after realising just how close the two of them have been. Will just continues smiling at him, probably blissfully unaware of the wave of emotions crashing into Mike’s overwhelmed, slightly confused brain right now.
Will’s thumb burns through the layers Mike is wearing where he gives his arm a few steady taps, and then it’s gone. “Lets go find the others.” Will instructs with a kind of determination, and Mike follows him down the street.
It turns out, that finding the others really isn’t that hard at all. Which Mike is insanely grateful for, because all that he really needs is sleep. Days and days of sleep, preferably. But for now, as they have been doing once a week for the past however long, Hopper calls a group meeting - hopefully the last official one they will ever have.
Everyone is suitably shaken when they arrive, some a little more broken that others. But it is okay, it’s going to be okay.
And even though there is devastation all around this cramped cabin, in the middle of the forest, as Mike looks around at his friends, at his family, at Will, all he can see is a communal look of tired relief.
Hopper, with just a look, manages to hush the quiet whispers that had since filled the room. Sometimes Mike thinks, when Hop looks at you, he’s like the only one who can truly see you. Mike used to be a little terrified of that fact, but now, when his eyes find Mike’s, when it is his turn, he can’t help but label that pang of emotion right in his chest, as something similar to love.
He smiles at them all, before clapping his hands together with a single, powerful syllable. “I look at you all now, and I see my family. I see my family and for the first time in a long time I think I may be lost for words.” Hopper speaks and it feels like the world is listening. It seems he manages to find them though because he takes a deep breath and then continues on. “When the world split a year ago I knew that life as we knew it was already gone, that there would be a new altered version of our small town, and that those forces that had taken Will all those years ago, that had caused what I and I’m sure most of you would call irreversible damage, would begin to cause even more.” At this, Mike glances over at Will, can see the tears beginning to form in his eyes again, but there remains a small smile resting atop his lips. “But we are here now, we are here and we are alive. And by God am I one lucky man, to be looking at you lot, my family, and to have you looking straight back at me. I don’t know what to say apart from good job. And that, well, I love you all.”
With this, Mike watches Hopper’s eyes become glassy and soft at the corners in a look that is usually reserved for just El and Mrs Byers. And Mike is pretty sure that he is also welling up at the sight of this brick wall of man softening so easily in front of the group of people he had led to victory mere hours ago. He watches as Mrs Byers grabs a hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly and looking as if she may never let it go.
His focus then drifts to El, who is slumped next to Max, her head resting on her shoulder, her own tears streaming down her face and dried up blood just above her lip. Just like with Will, Mike has no clue how this would all feel for her, he has no clue how tired her body must be, how fucking liberated she must be feeling having defeated the person, screw that, the world that has been pitted against her ever since she was just a child. All that Mike can do is look at her, and try, try so hard to see her the way that he couldn’t for the entirety of their relationship all those months ago. He still can’t figure her out, but maybe he doesn’t need to, maybe just trying is enough.
Then, as inevitable as the tide of the Californian ocean, Mike returns his gaze to Will.
Will who is already looking straight back at him, slightly unreadable in the biting of his lip and his wet lashes. Mike has known this face for almost all his life, has known its every expression, but this, this is something that Will has not allowed him to see before and Mike isn’t entirely sure what to do with it.
And so he smiles at him, an unapologetically gentle smile despite everyone around them, that tastes slightly like his salted tears. And something warm takes home in his chest when Will smiles back despite the trail of tears still falling down his cheeks in a steady rhythm.
More words are exchanged amongst them all, which admittedly Mike is only half listening to reasonably distracted by the fact that life can finally go back to normal, well this new version of normal that everyone has yet to discover.
But with that thought, others begin to follow, thoughts that Mike has been attempting to avoid with the whole end of the world taking place in front of him and all his friends’ eyes.
But now this world is no longer going to end, because now, at seventeen years old it is about to regenerate, it is about to start over. Maybe Mike, alongside it, can start over too.
The meeting ends, and though everybody is lingering Mike is pretty sure that Hopper wants to have his cabin back to himself to nap amongst other things. And so Mike watches as, in small groups, people begin to filter out of the wooden room, with promises to catch up in the coming days, mentions of rebuilding the town and celebratory parties being exchanged. And Mike feels lighter and lighter, the promise of tomorrow sacred in his mind.
The Party agree to meet tomorrow afternoon, back in Mike’s basement again. And then, after plans are made and hugs are given, it is just Mike and Will again.
“I don’t really want to go back yet.” Will says, glancing up at where the red clouds are finally clearing. “It doesn’t feel like the day should be over.”
Mike joins him, neck craning upwards. “I know what you mean.”
Will's eyes land on Mike again, proposing something with a hesitant smile. “Should we go for a drive?”
“Were you already planning this?” Mike says with a raised brow and a grin.
Will smiles back at him. “I love everybody but half way through the fourth speech my mind may have been somewhere else.” Mike lets out a laugh, again reminded of their similarity.
“Yeah, yeah okay.”
“Yeah?” Will asks again, and Mike is sure that he must know the answer by the glint in his eye. Mike gives a firm nod and Will continues, “Okay then. I’ll be one minute, mom has the keys inside.” He turns on his heel and leaves Mike watching his silhouette into the cabin.
When Will disappears from sight Mike looks up again. For the first time in over a year he can see the stars that once littered the Hawkin’s sky every night. And Mike knows, he knows that it will be things like this, the smaller things, that are going to form a lump in his throat when he is least expecting it and oh god, as another tear begins to form he thinks to himself - when did he become so sappy.
Will drives them to where everything had sort of begun, and he drives slowly taking time to watch the sky fall into something more natural, with more and more stars beginning to appear ahead, and the trees swaying once again in the age old breeze. He feels it in his hair, filtering through the strands where Mike has rolled down his window - the freshness of it all almost startling.
Gravel crunches beneath the tyres, as they roll quietly into the empty stretch of land, and despite the darkness Mike can just about see the soft glimmer of the water far below, the ripples of light bouncing from the moon’s surface. It really is beautiful.
The car shuts off with a final jut of noise, leaving the air filled with a silence that doesn’t exactly feel natural after so many days of unending chaos, heavy noise and heavier hearts.
Next to him, the only thing Mike can perceptibly hear is the in and out of Will’s breath, regular and free. But he doesn’t look over, not yet. He lets the silence sit, the way that he knows he should.
He doesn’t tell Will that he is glad they are alive, how they have years ahead of them, how they wont have to fight any monsters tomorrow. He doesn’t tell Will that his heart is in his throat for a whole other reason than why it was there yesterday. And he neglects to mention that he wonders if Will’s hands are as soft as the look, porcelain in the moonlight, clutching a little at the handbrake.
Mike doesn’t break the heady quiet, but he watches as Will’s mouth does for him. “They said they found my body here.”
Mike nods, trying not to let his surprise at the conversation show when he looks at his best friend. “Is that why you brought us here?”
Will’s eyes are somewhat wide with the question, like he is thinking it over for the first time. “I’m not sure.” He says, blinking. “ I remember reading the news when I got back, how they said I was waterlogged and on the precipice of rotting away.” He winces as he says it, some guarded emotion swimming forward. “Feels kind of symbolic to come back.” He gives a small smile, it doesn’t reach his eyes. But it is symbolic, Will is here, a slight flush on his face, alive and fresh and definitely not on the precipice of rotting.
“I was there when they pulled you- well, not you - out.” Mike breathes, his mind involuntarily bringing back the memory.
“I know.” Will says. They look at each other for a few seconds longer and then Will’s eyes leave his, staring out at the quarry instead. Mike’s fingers itch to reach out, to break this, well, whatever this is between them.
Again, after a minute of nothing, a minute of what Mike believes to be contemplative silence, Will breaks it for him, his voice undeniably soft between them. “You’re always there.”
He still isn’t looking at him, and so Mike gives a small laugh, half-forced, half real. “That a good thing, or?”
It does what it’s supposed to because Will’s eyes are back on him and Mike feels slightly greedy with it. “It’s a good thing.” Will confirms, something gentle in his eyes. “It’s always been a good thing Mike.”
“You know when we got the all clear?” Mike says thinking back to mere hours ago, watching as Will digests the words, and nods with them. “The first person I looked for was you.” He watches as Will smiles something beautiful, watches as clumsy tears well at the edges of his eyes.
“Yeah?” Will asks, his voice only slightly shaky.
Mike nods, twice in quick succession, feeling the tell tale sting behind his own irises. “Always.” He can’t move for some reason, stuck in place by a mixture of Will’s gaze and his own heart, that he is pretty sure has managed to swell within the past five or so minutes of the car engine being shut off.
He is still, and the next words spill out of Will’s mouth. And he is intent on how Will’s lips form around the sentence. “I still want you here, even now, even though it’s all over.”
“I’m going to be here.” Mike hears himself say, registering how a tear has actually escaped this time, wet and slow and singular when it crawls down his cheek. “Always.” He repeats just because it’s true.
Will breathes a heavy breath, Mike tracks it as well as the way his chest rises with it, watching as Will continues on. “I’m kind of scared.” He says, all in a rush, like it’s something he feels guilty to admit.
“Scared?” Mike asks, his head tilting just a bit, catching Will’s eye.
“Yeah. Scared.” Just outside Mike can hear the last of the birds settling for the night ahead. “It’s just things have been going to shit for as long as I can really remember. I just don’t know how we can go back to normal, how we can live our lives properly again.”
Mike thinks he knows how Will feels. “Yeah. I think everyone will be feeling that. Everyone will be feeling that and they are going to be here.” Mike lets out a watery laugh. “I’m sure we are all going to be sick of each other.”
Will looks at him again, his eyes fixed intently on Mike holding some kind of meaning that Mike isn’t totally aware the name of. It is him this time, to give a small trace of a laugh. “I’m not sure you get it.” Will says, and it makes Mike’s brows furrow ever so slightly, a lingering question. “Nothing you could do, nothing, would make me sick you.”
It is Will that reaches in the space between them, and Mike just watches the movement, the way that Will’s hand shudders, just a little with its hesitancy, crossing the already small distance. He watches and then feels, as Will’s delicate fingers swipe a tiny patch of the soft skin under his eyes, tracing a tear that mike hadn’t even realised was beginning to fall. “Nothing.” Will repeats, for the third, and maybe final, time.
Mike breathes with the contact, hearing how his own breath stutters its way out of his throat, the way that his tongue forms around his words. “Will.” He says, his voice no more than a whisper in the silence of the shut off car. “Will.” He says again, the name even softer now and he can feel the pads of his best friends fingers, a buzzing under the surface of the skin there.
“Yeah.” He grins now, wet and shinning and beautiful. “That’s my name.”
“Will.” Mike says, just for the sake of it, just because he is here, they are here. Alive and on the precipice of something new.
There’s a crack of a laugh that Mike can only assume comes from Will’s mouth, because his eyes are shut, his face is being cradled, just the right amount of firm and gentle, in a low voice he speaks, and the noise goes straight to Mike’s stomach. “I’m right here.”
“Thank god.” Mike whispers just as he is brave, just as he lets his eyes peel open, lets them linger slightly dazed, all over Will’s face. He looks and he looks and Will looks right back at him. Mike’s thinks it is Will’s thumb then, that moves next. But he’s not sure it really matters, because all of a sudden he is so so much closer than a minute before.
There is a murmur in the lack of air between them, a murmur of a breath brushing his lips, and it sounds something familiar to “Go on.”
And so he does, he presses forward and forward, he leans so far over the dashboard and into Will, his lips falling first. Soft and bitten and bruised, Will’s mouth is on his, pushing back at him, hungry and desperate and everything that Mike has been imagining unknowingly for years.
It’s a bit of an awkward angle, they probably both knew that when they got inside, because somewhere in the back of his mind, Mike knew that tonight would only really end in one way. But even though the console is aching into the side of his stomach, he persists, fisting at Will’s shirt with some kind of ferocity, just as Will’s mouth opens for him, wet and warm and so very there. And the noise he makes, Mike knows that he is going to have to write that down later.
Will kisses him, and Mike knows that every rewritten cliche, is rewritten for a reason. Because he immediately feels like every moment that he has lived has led to this, has led to Will’s fingers crawling from his cheeks and moving on to tugging at his hair, with a knowable urgency.
Mike loves him. He loves him and maybe, maybe he will get to have this.