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Blood seeped across the concrete, inching closer and closer to Mike's feet, but the blood he was watching wasn't the pool before him. His eyes were trained on the slow slide of red above Will's lip, staining his wrist when he moved to wipe it away, visible even at a distance. A futile gesture. More blood followed, following the curve of his lip to collect at the corner of his mouth.
The first step, Mike stumbled. His legs were shaking with left over fear and adrenaline. He figured himself out after a second, and then was running. Will's eyes were on him, heavy lidded and dropping, but fixed on Mike.
Joyce got to him first, collapsing beside him, hands fluttering over his damp hair and under his jaw. He said something Mike couldn't make out, "I'm okay," maybe, but his eyes never left Mike's. A second passed, two, silence and fire in the air, and then Mike was landing on his knees in front of Will, the momentum slamming his knees down hard on the concrete, so close they touched Will's. Pain lanced up his legs, but he didn't notice, numb. He caught Will's face in his hands, thumb smearing through the blood at his mouth. Hazy, wet green eyes rimmed in red met his. Mike felt his mouth pull into a shaky, genuine smile. His voice cracked when he spoke, sounding all of twelve years old again.
"Holy shit man."
Will smiled back, a little blood staining his teeth, and then he was slumping forward into Mike.
"Will," His mother tried, scared, but Will weakly brought an arm up to half ass curl around Mike's ribs, his other hand twisting in the front of Mike's shirt. His face, shockingly cold, pressed against Mike's neck. Mike's already pounding heart ratcheted up.
"Will?" He asked, panic lacing his voice. He hands uselessly fluttered over Will's back and shoulders.
"'M 'kay." He mumbled, leaning harder into Mike. "Jus' tired." And then he went boneless, arms loose at his sides, all his weight resting on Mike. He could feel his nose still bleeding, the blood hot on his skin.
"Will!" Joyce reached for her son, but Mike was already securing his arms around him.
"We need to get him out of here." He said, meeting Joyce's eyes over her son's hair. Deep lines were carved into her pale face from stress, and a thin line of blood was trailing down from her hair, right in front of her ear. Mike gripped Will, frowning.
"Are you okay? Can you drive?" Joyce made dismissive sound, swiping at the blood on her face.
"I'm fine, don't worry about me. Worry about Will."
Mike's mouth moved before his brain could catch up.
"I always do."
She smiled, small and strained but real, as she stood.
"I know." She reached down, helping him to lift Will. Mike might be taller, but Will was broader, heavier. Months ago, at the beginning of summer when it was just getting really hot, they'd laid on Mike's bed together, in shirts and shorts, sweating even indoors. Will had noticed and poked at the stretch marks on Mike's thigh.
"You grew." Mike had snorted, pushing his hand against the full curve of Will's shoulder.
"So did you."
Despite that, and mostly due to a good amount of adrenaline still, Mike, Will's arm over his shoulder and an arm around his middle, was able to carry him, letting Joyce run ahead to steal the keys off a body, along with a radio. He heard it crackle, then distorted voices. All he made out was that Lucas had caught up with Robin, and then static. Tossing the radio into the broken window of a Humvee, Joyce opened the back passenger door. Mike went in first, struggling to pull Will in after him until Joyce lifted his legs, carefully tucking them in before shutting the door.
Mike slouched back again the door, his heart still hammering. He had one leg stretched on the seat, one braced on the floor. Will laid against him, bracketed between Mike's knees, his pallid cheek on Mike's chest. Mike gathered him close as the vehicle growled to life, holding his friend as close as possible. His nose was still bleeding, making Mike's throat tight with worry. They were hardly comparable given the circumstances, but El's nosebleeds were never more than a few drops, and stopped after seconds.
Curling an arm around Will's neck, Mike bunched his sleeve up in his fingers and pressed it to Will's nose, stemming the bleeding a little. At least keeping it from coating his chin more. The other arm he placed around Will's shoulders, hugging him to himself like one of his old childhood stuffed animals, but far, far dearer. He pressed his face to Will's hair, closing his eyes and recalling the way his had gone white, rolled back into his head, but remembering how green they looked when he smiled. He'd smiled a lot this year, happy despite impending doom. Happy to have Mike back.
Mike exhaled, slow. Will's breathed ghosted over his fingers, his heart beating steadily against Mike's sternum.
"Is he still alive?"
It was whispered, so quite he could barely hear over the sound of the car and his own pulse, but he caught the words. He opened eyes, not lifting his head from Will's, and found Joyce's damp eyes in the review mirror.
"Yes." Mike whispered back, and a stray tear ran from the corner of her eye. Outside, the world was black, shapeless and dark but fast moving. Mike had no idea how long they'd been driving. He closed his eyes again, breathing in the soft, fire singed smell of Will's hair.
'Please be okay. Please please be okay. She can't loose you again. Neither can I'
An indeterminate amount of time later found them at the station. The truck was already there, and Mike immediately clocked the rips in the metal. None of the kids made it then. Perhaps he should've felt something more, knowing they failed, but mostly Mike was numb. His parents were in the hospital, mauled and nearly dead, the kids were gone, his little sister was gone, and Will, unconscious and bleeding. Still bleeding.
"Sweetheart." Mike blinked, tearing his unfocused eyes away from the direction of the truck, finding Joyce's pale face, her hand lightly shaking his knee.
"We need to get inside." She said, and her voice sounded like she'd smoked six packs straight. Mike started moving on autopilot.
When they got inside, down to the lower level, (a hard feat, with Will limp between them) they found Robin and Lucas, huddled together by the table, a mess of first aid supplies scatted around. Despite the yawning void inside of himself, Mike felt concern rise in his chest.
"Are you okay?"
"What happened?"
He and Lucas spoke at the same time, and some insane part of Mike almost cracked a smile. But the front of Lucas’ shirt was caked with blood, and there was a red stained needle in Robin's fingers.
"I got swiped by a demo. In the tunnels. Would've killed me too, expect they just..."
"Stopped." Mike finished for him, as he and Joyce settled Will on the couch.
"Is he okay?" Lucas asked worriedly. Mike kneeled beside the couch, pressing his sleeve to his nose again.
"He's alive." Mike said, monotone, eyes on Will's face. His mother, leaning over the back of the couch, was pressing tissues under Mike's wrist. He moved, and their hands over lapped as they tried to stop the bleeding.
"Murray's not."
Mike and Joyce both looked at Robin. It was the first she'd spoken, and Mike noticed her sleeves and shirt front were red. Her face was gaunt as she continued, staring at the needle trembling in her fingers.
"The demogorgons attacked the truck. One came after me, after we wrecked, and it just..." A look towards Mike. " ...Stopped, like a damn puppet, voodoo doll thing. But it must've gotten to Murray first. There was blood..."
Her voice hitched, and she looked at her hands, stained scarlet. "So much blood."
Robin started to cry.
Joyce looked at her, covering her mouth with her hand. She glanced down at her son, but Mike leaned forward, catching her eye.
"I'll stay with him, it's okay." Joyce hesitated a moment, then nodded. She passed a hand over Mike's hair, a gesture he'd felt a million times before, but this time put a lump in his throat, and then she straightened, rounding the couch to cross the room to where Lucas was leaning into Robin's side, her shoulders shaking. Mike realized, watching Joyce embrace her, that Robin probably hadn't seen someone she knew die before. How messed up was it, that Mike knew the feeling before he even hit puberty.
"What happened to Will?" He heard Lucas ask quietly. There was hesitation in Joyce's voice when she spoke.
"He's..."
"A sorcerer." Mike said, apropos of absolutely nothing other than his and Will's conversation. It felt like days ago, but it was only hours.
There were questions, some probably definitely directed at him, but Mike tuned out from the rest of the conversation. Will was still, but not in the easy way of sleep. When Will slept, he twitched, talked a little, his eyes moved under the lids. Now, he was deathly still, save for the even, slow rise and fall if his chest. His skin was frighteningly pale, and where Mike touched his face, it was as cold as if he was standing in the snow. But the bleeding had stopped, finally. The tissues Mike was holding to his nose was colored through with red, but when he pulled them away, no more blood appeared. Mike sighed in relief. It was a small thing, but it was better.
Discarding the tissues on the floor, Mike pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, pushing until he saw fireworks in the dark behind his eyelids. His body ached, his head hurt, and all he wanted was for Will to open his eyes, for El or Hopper or Nancy to radio in and let them know they were all alive, for Murray, the crazy bastard, to not be dead.
Passing his hands over his face, Mike stiffly got to his feet, but only briefly. There wasn't much room on the couch with a full-grown teenage boy laid out on it, but Mike shoved Will (gently, very gently) over enough that he could sit by his hip. Will's arms were at his sides, one hand resting on his stomach, the other trailing towards the floor. Mike, with a brief glance towards the others immersed in conversation, (Joyce must've gotten to the part with Will stopping the demos, because Lucas' mouth was hanging open and he was shooting gob smacked looks towards Will) reached down and took Will's hand. He had beautiful hands, Mike could admit that, in his head at least. Long artist's fingers, neatly trimmed nails, vaguely calloused from the shooting lessons Nancy had secretly been giving him. He was good at that, shooting. His steady hands making for great aim. It was going better then Steve teaching him to swing a bat, which Will was without a shred of a doubt, totally and utterly dogshit at. He insisted he could learn though, and Steve, ever the good guy, continued to help him. Mike was pretty sure Will kept that up more for the close proximity to Steve and his "No no, man, you hold it like This" touches, rather than any keen desire to be proficient with a bat. Not that Mike ever brought it up. Not like he had room to talk.
Heaving a heavy breath, Mike, holding Will's left hand in his right, eased sideways until he was laid across Will's body, his cheek on his chest, their intertwined hands resting below Mike's chin on the curve of Will's ribcage. He canted his head up slightly, looking at Will, at the lines and spots of blood still on his face, the curve of his cheek bones, the dark sweep of his lashes and the heavy set of his brows, the ridiculous flop of his hair. Abruptly, tears burned Mike's eyes, and turned his face into Will's chest, still looking at his too-still face.
"Please wake up." He whispered, voice cracking, hardly there. He squeezed Will's hand, but Will didn't squeeze back. Mike closed his eyes.
His head was on the wrong side for it, but Mike could still hear the steady, reassuring thump of Will's heart. Consistent, rhythmic. It overlapped with the hushed conversation on the other side of the room. After a while, it drug him down into sleep.
When Mike woke, it took him awhile.
The first thing he noticed was that he was warm, more so on his front than his back. He had one second where he thought he was back in his house, six years younger and cuddling his sister after a nightmare, but reality slammed back in fast, and he remembered. Will.
The second thing, was fingers in his hair. Light, careful, gently sifting through the sink-water, smoke dried mess of curls on his head. Mike held very still, taking even breaths. His now empty right hand lay loose on Will's chest. He chanced opening his eyes. The room was dim but not dark. A lamp on in the corner, casting warm yellow light. It was quiet, no one else around.
And Will, awake, looking at him, carding his fingers through his hair.
He didn't stop, even as their eyes met. Mike's heart, just a moment ago slowed and calm, picked up rapidly. He stared at Will, who's head was tilted to the side a little, propped on the arm of the couch. His eyes though, while bloodshot, were clear, Hazel green and kind. He smiled, a small, tired thing.
"Hi."
Mike swallowed. Will's voice was rough, like when he'd had pneumonia after he went missing. But the smile didn't fade, and the fingers in Mike's hair curled.
Tears flooded Mike's eyes, and he sobbed out a laugh.
"Hi." He said back, voice breaking on the single word. Will's face crumpled a little, and he slid his hand down, placing his palm on the side of Mike's face. He thumbed away the tears collecting on the side of Mike's nose, rubbing under his eye as more slid from Mike's lashes.
"Hey, I'm okay, I promise." Will tried, but Mike choked another laugh/sob. Everything, his parents nearly dying, Holly taken, Nancy, El, and the others in the upside down, losing the kids, nearly dying himself, thinking Will was going to die, Murray... it had all built up into this great welling pressure in Mike's chest, and the relief of seeing Will's eyes, hearing his voice, realizing he was okay, was the last drop to over flow the dam.
Will, who Mike was a hundred percent sure he did not deserve, was patient. He freed his right arm from where it was trapped between his side and the couch back and hugged Mike, rubbing one hand up and down his back, smoothing his hair, reassuring him quietly that he was okay, his parents were alive, they’d find Holly, they were both here and okay. He was handling it remarkably well, considering he was the one who had tried to break his brain with physic powers and passed out. All that and Mike was the one having the absolute crash out. Hysterically, Mike laughed a little.
"Mike?" Will asked, sounding faintly alarmed. Mike laughed again, bleakly. He loosed his hand from where it was clutching Will's shirt and rubbed at his face. He'd yet to actually lift his head.
"I'm good." He said, crackly and wet. Will made a small sound of disbelief.
"Really." He replied, dubious. Mike met his eyes, waving his hand vaguely.
"It's...been a lot, the past couple days." Will's expression softened.
"Yeah..."
Mike looked at him, at the shadows under his eyes, how bloodshot they were. A few hours ago, they'd been rolled back into his head, only the veined whites showing.
Mike's mouth twitched.
"You were a badass, you know that?" Will blinked, then heaved a breath that was almost a laugh.
"I don't know what I was." He returned, dropping his head back to stare the ceiling. His heart, audible under Mike's cheek, picked up a little. Mike sat up, Will's hands, gone still, fell away.
"I do. " Mike said, a little of his usual surety coming back. Will looked at him, and Mike smiled for real. "You were Will."
Will blinked. Looked at him for a long moment as if waiting for further explanation.
"Are you okay?" He finally asked, one eyebrow raising a little. Mike rolled his eyes, but he got the feeling it wasn't as effective with tears still drying on his face.
"I mean not really, but I'm right. You were you. Will the wise, the sorcerer. You defeated the villain."
"I killed demogorgons, not Vecna."
"Whatever. None of us could do that, except El. I was about to be obliterated until you crumpled that thing like paper."
Will's face did something complicated then, something Mike couldn't make out. His eyes dropped, focusing on his hands, resting on his stomach. After a moment, he spoke.
"It was because of you."
It was a soft admission, quiet, like he was admitting a secret. Mike felt his heart thump in his chest.
"Me." It wasn’t a question, not really, but Will nodded, gaze still lowered. He took a breath, about to continue, but Mike beat him to it, shaking his head. "I'm not worth that."
Will, the shit, rolled his eyes.
"I'm not," Mike insisted, voice rising before he caught himself and lowered his voice. "You passed out. You bled, for an hour, from your head. I can't be the reason you die. My dumb ass isn't worth that."
Will was quiet for a moment, searching Mike's face. A sad smile pulled at his mouth, and Mike felt...uncertain. Precarious, as if he was standing at the edge of the quarry, toes over the cliff, just like he'd been all those years ago. He was brave then, braver than he was now, and he wasn't sure he could be that again. But Will, always braver than them all, could.
"I love your dumb ass."
Mike's breath hitched, but he didn't speak. Didn't look away.
"And I love your stupid face."
Will was smiling, but his eyes were glinting, over bright. He took Mike's hand. Mike didn't pull away.
"And your ridiculous, great big heart that decided I was worth caring about."
Dropping his eyes to their joined hands, he bit his lip. A flush, stark on his pale skin, crept up his face. "Even though I like boys." Whispered to their hands like it was still a secret.
Mike realized he did have words, soft ones, spoken just as quietly.
"You like me."
It was a stupid thing to say, Will just said he loved him, but this was different, and after ten years of friendship, Mike knew Will understood. He always did, better than anyone else.
Will met his eyes. Silence hung in the room, heavy and still.
"Yes." He said finally, very, very quiet. Before Mike could say anything though, he sat up a little straighter, speaking first. "But...that's not why."
Mike frowned. Upstairs, something, a cupboard, slammed, followed by a muffled curse. They both flinched, holding their breaths for a moment. After a minute, Mike asked,
"Why?"
"Why I saved you."
"I...I don't understand." Will sighed, pushing his hair back from his face with one hand before letting it drop back to his lap.
"I saved you," Will started, measured, eyes on his hands. Mike sat up more, turning to face him better. "Because you asked me if I wanted to be friends, the moment you met me. Because you shared all your toys with me. Because even when nobody else wanted to be around me because of my asshole dad and the rumors around town, you insisted on having sleepovers and having lunch together every day. Because you looked for me, even when the town thought I was dead, and you stayed even when you found out monsters were real. Because you brought me back when I was prisoner in my own body. Because you always give me the last Reese's even though they're your favorite. Because you still have all the drawings I ever gave you pinned up in your room."
A pause as Will took a breath. Mike's face felt hot, his eyes burning.
"Because you always apologize, no matter how big of an asshole you were. Because you care so much even though people think you don't. Because you faced actual monsters and didn't back down. Because you stood between them and me." Will looked up at him then, and Mike hurriedly wiped at his eyes, as if he hadn't just been crying them out minutes ago.
Will squeezed his hand.
"That's why I saved you. Not because I need anything from you or, or want you to bring me flowers," Mike didn't know what his face did just then, probably something weird with his eyebrows, but it made Will smile a little. He shook their joined hands lightly.
"I saved you, Mike Wheeler, because you're my best friend."
And, well, damned if Mike could argue that.
He laughed wetly and squeezed Will's hand back.
"You're my best friend too." And God he sounded like a little kid again, voice cracking and small. Will grinned, flopping back on to the couch, keeping a hold of Mike's hand. Despite the relief in his eyes, the past twenty-four hours were showing. The bags under his eyes were so deep they looked like bruises.
"Are you really okay?" He asked, and Will's smile twisted a bit.
"No? Yes? My head is pounding and everything hurts, but I'm alive?" Mike snorted, but he was sure the concern was evident on his face. He noticed there was still blood on Will's, smears and streaks that led to dried lines on his jaw and neck.
He stood abruptly.
"Mike?" Concern, but also a vague tone of hurt colored Will's voice. Mike, about to turn away, paused, smiling a bit.
"I'm going to get something to clean the blood off your neck. Your nose bleed went on awhile. It was like that damn leaky pipe." Will grimaced.
"Ew."
Breathing a laugh, Mike went in search of a towel. Upstairs was out of the question, he didn't want to talk to anyone else yet, even though he really should let Joyce know her son was conscious. But Will was exhausted, and while he loved his mother, Mike knew he wouldn't want to get the million questions she would have for him at the moment. Not yet.
So for now, Mike scrounged around for a towel, finding what was probably a dusting rag but looked fairly clean. He got a half-finished water bottle off the map table and returned to the couch. Will hadn't moved, and for a moment Mike thought he'd fallen asleep. He hadn't though, cracking his eyes open when Mike took his seat at the edge, this time by Will's ribs rather than his hip.
Wetting the rag, Mike set the water on the floor by his feet and turned to face Will, bringing his leg to rest along Will's rib cage, under the fold of his arm where he had it laying on his chest.
Will's eyes tracked him, but Mike hesitated only a little bit as he leaned forward, sliding his left hand under Will's neck to hold him steady.
Carefully, Mike started dabbing at the flaking dried blood.
"You know," Mike began, trying for casual but a little too soft. He ran the towel along the easy curve of Will's jaw, over smattered freckle-like blood spots. "There really is something wrong with you."
Glancing at his eyes, Mike saw Will's brows furrow, hurt coloring his expression. Mike went on, rubbing the towel over a particularly stubborn smear near his collar.
"I mean, of all people, Me. Like really man, we're friends with Lucas. And Steve! Steve "The Hair" Harrington." Mike looked up and smiled automatically when he saw the grin Will was wearing. The hand on his chest lifted, poking Mike in the cheek like he used to when they were little and he wanted to be annoying.
"I know. I have God awful taste."
"Hey now." But Mike was laughing.
Squeezing the back of his neck, Mike withdrew his hand, leaning back to toss the rag aside. He picked up the water, offering it out. Will took it, sitting up to take a drink. It put them very close together, Mike's shoulder touching his chest.
"That's why you were so weird around him after we got back from California huh. Steve, I mean. And the bat lessons." To Mike's utter delight, Will's face flushed Hard. He coughed a little on his water.
"Yeah...I'm an idiot." Mike grinned, nudging their shoulders together.
"I know that, but I get it. The hair is impressive."
"Stop."
"And he's like, stupidly capable with that baseball bat."
"Mike."
Will was full on hiding in his hands now, red face hidden behind his fingers and hunched forward over his lap. Mike smiled and poked his side, his very ticklish side, hard. Will flinched, sitting up straight like a wire pulled taunt.
"Hey!...oh."
The protest died as Mike's arms wrapped Will's waist, pulling him in and turning until they were chest to chest. Will's arms, after a second of surprised hesitation, folded around Mike's shoulders. Another second passed, and Will relaxed into it, lifting one hand to bury it in Mike's curls. Sighing heavily, Mike hid his face against Will's neck. Hugging tight and close, the way Mike couldn't bring himself to do in California but couldn't imagine being awkward about now. The way they did all the time as kids. The way Mike did as soon as Will was able to get out of the hospital bed after he'd been taken. Even with Joyce and Jonathan in the room at the time, Mike had gotten to hug him first.
Against his cheek, Will's pulse thumped, steady and loud and alive, and Mike let himself lean into the comfort of his best friend.
The following morning, after the initial relief from the others at seeing Will awake, the five of them grouped together, and began to plan. Eventually it was decided that the first thing that needed doing was contacting the members of the party on the flip side. The problem with that, was apparently a problem with the radio tower. Robin said it happened before, right before the crawl, and it meant scaling the tower to the stop.
Will, fully aware of the fight it would cause with his mother, took himself out of the equation first, shaking his head and declaring himself too lightheaded to climb. The iron grip he had in the back of Mike's shirt, out of sight but unwavering, kept Mike from opening his mouth. Lucas, naturally, stated to volunteer, but Robin waved her hand flippantly.
"I'll do it. I know what it is and how to fix it after Dumb and Dumber did it last time."
Plan decided, the five of them headed for the door. Outside it was absurdly nice, rising sun casting a cheerful yellow shine, wind breezing along gently, birds flickering by. It seemed a different world all together than the one they left last night.
As they walked to the Tower, Robin in the lead, something caught Mike's eye, and he slowed. He drifted off from the group, letting the others walk on ahead. He took a few steps into the overgrown grass. Seedy and tall, it reached Mike's knees. When he crouched down, it brushed his face.
Will only made it a few steps before he noticed the absence at his side.
"Mike?" He asked, back tracking to where Mike was hunkered down. When he was close, Mike got to his feet and held out his hand. Trapped in the curl of his long fingers was a bundle of wildflowers. Weeds more like, but blooming with bright yellow petals.
Every drop of blood left in Will's body rushed to his face.
Mike grinned at him.
"Hey dinguses!" They both jumped, looking with wide eyes to where Robin was waving at them from the base of the Tower. They glanced back at each other and burst out laughing.
"Come on! What are you two dimwits giggling about anyway!" She called, rolling her sleeves up in a very Steve-like way.
Will, the sun lighting his eyes up in a vibrant green, took the offered flowers. His lips curled up as he glanced from Mike to Robin.
"Signals!" He called back.
It made absolutely no sense to Mike, but Will was smiling, and Mike was pretty sure that that was the single greatest thing in the world at the moment. He missed whatever Robin's reaction or response was, but he didn't care. He didn't know if he could be what Will wanted him to be, but he knew he wanted to see him smile like that, to be safe and happy.
He didn't know if he could make that happen, but he was going to try.