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After the monsters started to crawl out of Hawkins, the world was again at risk of interdimensional takeover. It had been two long years since the last time Vecna had been seen alive, but also another two years for the rot from the Upside Down to spread from the crack in the Earth's surface. It was becoming near-apocalyptic, with entire towns being rendered uninhabitable due to the monsters roaming the streets and the toxic ash that fell like snow.
Now, life was not the monotonous cycle of school, work, eating and sleep. It was a fight to survive and to always watch your back. It was horrible and draining, and the kids no longer had the childish wish of wanting to know what it was like to live without the threat of absolute human omnicide every few years. There was no point in yearning for an irrational desire for normalcy any longer. They now knew that they just weren't destined to live normal lives, that instead they were chosen to save lives. That was their duty.
Instead of learning useless information in class, Mike Wheeler was trekking the polluted Hawkins alongside Will. They both had a bandana over their mouths, a makeshift attempt to reduce the number of toxic fumes they inhaled. They were also draped in multiple layers of clothing with additional armour made from scrap metal and stolen goods from war stores. Mike had taken silver knuckle dusters for himself, so far they hadn’t been used, but he liked to show off his poor fighting moves to impress Will. Will just laughed and squeezed Mike’s scrawny biceps, then told him to start lifting weights before he went and tried punching a nine foot Demogorgon.
Since the last time Vecna had tried taking over the planet, Will had let his hair grow out. It was messily cut and shaggy, and his bowl cut had been gone for a long time now. As he grew up, so did his style. He aged into a new world, a new him, adopting a queerer sense of fashion that was inspired by the men he would gawk at on the television. The body armour had replaced what he normally wore, but there were still splashes of his own style peering through the camo print jacket, such as the pen ink drawings on the back of his hands and arms, painted nails, brown leather boots and belt, and a shirt that he knew was too tight but that was exactly why he wore it.
Mike was no different, as he too was growing up in a weird, new world of being a horrible hormonal teenager. His long black hair was even longer, now curlier, too, and he wasn't afraid to style his hands with silver rings or throw a chain around his neck and call it 'punk'. Similar to Eddie, Mike had gone and got himself a black leather jacket and covered it in metal studs and patches. A few patches were bands, mostly ones that Eddie got Mike into, and some were nerdier. His most prized possession was the stick and poke tattoo of a 20-sided dice on his leg that Will had given him while they were both stoned. It bled, it hurt, but the outcome was worth the pain. As long as his parents didn't see it.
The two boys were heading back to the safe house, Mike with a metal spear and Will with a rifle held firmly in expert hands. Mike was in front, carefully trudging through the thick growth of weeds and uncut grass that had begun to resemble a jungle. His stolen combat boots thudded on cracked concrete as they approached an overgrown bus stop. The setting sun peeked over the cloudy horizon. Scattered sunspots lit their path beyond them. There was an abandoned car on the road beside them, but whatever had scared the driver out of the vehicle had smashed the hood in, too.
"We're not too far now," Mike commented, pausing to scan the area for danger before they could continue.
Will, out of breath, caught up to his friend with hurried footsteps.
"Oh, that's good," he panted, bent over with his hands on his knees. He pulled his bandana down to breathe easier. "I was worried I was going to pass out before we got there."
Mike threw a look over his shoulder. "And I'm the out-of-shape one here?"
"That's different. You can't throw a punch. I just can't walk for more than five minutes."
It appeared that almost dying from exhaustion didn't stop Will from being sassy. Mike rolled his eyes and returned to check for monsters. Before he could start walking again, a hand seized his wrist and yanked him backward.
"Wait. Do you hear that?" Will whispered.
Mike listened. He heard it; heavy claws raking through the dirt. It was faint but close.
"Shit. Should we hide?"
There was no time for Will to reply. A horrible thunderous roar rang out, quickly putting both Mike and Will’s trek to a screeching halt. A huge figure jumped onto the glass bus stop beside them, bearing its vicious claws and sickening jaws of teeth. Mike reacted first, grabbing his lighter and flicking it to light the end of his spear. Will readied his rifle, however, their reflexes weren’t as refined as the predator’s. The monstrous beast pounced on Mike and threw him to the ground, sending his spear flying out of his hands and out of reach. The Demogorgon screeched, its warm spit spewing from its mouth and onto Mike’s face. He was yelling out desperately, flailing beneath the creature, but it proved to be useless.
Will aimed the muzzle of his rifle at the Demogorgon's chest and pulled the trigger. A booming crack of sound and light erupted from the firearm, sending a bullet deep inside the creature’s hardened flesh. The Demogorgon was thrown off by the sudden injury dealt to its body and turned its attention to Will, screeching once more. Will shot again, this time aiming for its head. The bullet made its home deep in the monster’s neck. The sound spouted crimson gore as the monster tripped over its own feet in an attempt to regain its footing over Mike.
However, even with two bullets in its body, the Demogorgon quickly shrugged off the damage. It grabbed Mike with its long, slender claws and forcefully pushed his back into the dirt, cutting his skin with the rocks and debris that lay scattered across the terrain. It lifted its head and opened its flower-like mouth, but before it could take a bite out of its prey, it found itself suddenly unable to move. The monster started to hiss and bite the air, but no matter what it tried, its body moved on its own, floating upwards until its feet no longer touched the ground. Then it turned slowly to face Will, who was standing with his head held high and the rifle thrown on the ground.
The Demogorgon was writhing in its own skin, completely unable to force itself out of the telekinetic grasp that Will had it in. Will’s eyes had rolled to the back of his head, brows furrowed and his face pulled into an expression of pure wrath. His chest was heaving as he effortlessly forced the Demogorgon into the air. Blood dribbled from his nose, but excessively. Unlike Eleven, the stream of scarlet was relentless, spewing from his nostrils and coating the bottom half of his face in his own blood. Yet, Will cared very little for his own welfare. In fact, Will Byers held absolutely no regard for his own safety if it meant Mike could die. He clenched his raised fist. The Demogorgon began to roar in agony, yet the pain it felt was not visible to the outside eye. Then, Will opened his hand, and the creature’s heart exploded. A shower of scarlet erupted from its chest as a hole was torn through it, and Will threw the lifeless corpse to the ground, away from Mike.
Mike. He was holding himself up just barely, his eyes wide and frozen in shock. Then his eyes met with Will’s and the suffocating aura of dread was ripped from the air between them. Without hesitation, Mike clambered onto his feet and ran to Will, crashing their bodies together as he drew the boy into his arms. Blood coated one half of Will’s face and his green eyes were only just returning to normal, rather than the deathly white stare that had once adorned them.
“Oh, Jesus,” Mike quavered. His whole body was trembling uncontrollably. With the cuff of his sleeve, he wiped at the blood under Will’s nose, ending up with a sleeve full of blood. He didn’t care about that, he was more worried about his best friend who looked near lifeless in his arms. He combed a shaky hand through Will’s messy brown hair while grazing the boy’s temple with his thumb.
“Will?” He titled Will’s head forward and cradled his face against his chest. When there was no response from him, he cupped his face with one hand and lightly slapped his cheek to incite any hint of life from him. “Come on. Wake up, please…”
Finally, Will regained consciousness in Mike’s arms. He gasped, not from pain, but from the sight of Mike so close to him, and safe. He was alive, and Will was alive, and everything was okay. Tears rolled down Will’s cheek as emotion engulfed him.
The floodgates opened as Mike was overwhelmed with relief. He started to weep happily, choking on his shaky breath. He hugged him tightly, burying his face into the crook of his neck. “Oh my god,” he murmured against his skin. He pulled away and cupped Will’s face again, now with both hands.
“Are you okay?”
Will was still sore and his skull was throbbing as if he had been hit over the head, but other than that, he would live. He nodded.
“Thank you for saving me.”
Will’s face lit up and a toothy grin accompanied his wet, glossy eyes that still continued to spill with tears.
With that smile Mike always wore, he gently held the back of Will’s head and touched their foreheads together. They stayed like this for a second, lips ghosting one another’s, but there was no need for them to progress the moment into anything more. They were on a mission, but they needed a second to catch their breath. Eventually, Mike found that Will’s breath had matched his own, and they opened their eyes. Will’s green eyes were no longer running with tears.
Suddenly, Will broke the silence. “Oh, you have some blood on you,” he said, carefully pulling his forehead from Mike but not moving out of his arms.
Mike could never get used to just how selfless Will Byers was.
“It’s nothing. You were just covered in your own blood!”
His words seemed to go right over Will’s head. With the nail of his thumb, he scraped the dry Demogorgon blood off of Mike’s cheek. Those same cheeks glowed red with heat immediately. Mike was flustered under Will’s gaze, he always had been, and always will be. It must have been obvious because Will’s lips were tight as if he was holding in a laugh.
“What?”
“You’ve gone red in the face,” he said with amusement.
“Nuh-uh,” Mike bit back playfully, hiding his face bashfully by looking to the side. Two fingers met with his chin and turned his face to look back at Will.
“You’re a dork, Michael.”
“I cannot believe you would say that to me,” Mike said with fake shock, holding a hand over his heart to signify heartbreak. He had adopted Eddie’s mannerisms back in High School, and now with his long black hair, edgy clothes and silver jewellery, he could very well be Eddie Munson’s little clone. But alas, he was no clone, but only the same nerd that had fallen in love with his best friend. Mike was a dork, and he knew it.
Will laughed. His eyes softened. He still had Mike's jaw between his finger and thumb.
Mike realised that he definitely looked like a tomato with how red his face was. He glanced down at Will's lips. That was a mistake. He blushed even more, if that was even possible. Then he noticed something shocking. Will was flustered too.
It was as if Will could read minds, as he quickly released the boy's face after Mike noticed his flushed cheeks. He looked down at his feet and stumbled on words, muttering a few 'uhms' and 'uhs' to dissolve the tension that had built up between them.
"We should probably get going before another Demogorgon gets here."
Mike snapped out of whatever trance he was in. His face was still red hot, though. He nodded.
"Right, they definitely felt that one's chest explode."
Mike took his hands off of Will's shoulders and desperately tried to look anywhere but Will and his godforsaken lips.
Will picked up his rifle and began to walk. This time Mike stayed by his side all the way home.