Chapter Text
Will? Where. . .where is Will?
Mike groaned as pain flooded through his body, mind hazy and delirious with the shocks. He could faintly feel the cold trickle of blood run down his chin (or up? Mike couldn’t tell anymore). When had that gotten there?
But one point stood out before anything else: Where was Will? It was Mike’s sworn oath to- to- where was Will?
He promised he would. . .he promised. . .he. . .it was getting harder for Mike to keep his eyes open with every second that passed. Everything seemed to slow down but play so fast, it made the paladin dizzy.
Everything felt so. . .heavy. He wanted to sleep for decades after this. To welcome the darkness that came with rest with open arms. But he had a job to do, right? A job, well-
An ugly sob broke the silence and rang loudly through his ears. Oh, that must’ve been him, wasn’t it? There wasn’t anyone else around, not that Mike could even turn his head to look. Each breath tore at his lungs, each sob that racked through his chest sending splinters of pain all over. Raggedy and quick, they made everything unbearable.
It hurt so much, it hurt so much, and as Mike nearly choked on the blood pouring out from between his red-stained lips, a voice broke him away from his torturous trance.
“Mike?” A voice called out. It seemed almost as if it were miles away, perhaps even oceans from where Mike laid, but he knew it was near, because from the slits that his eyes would open, he could see the blurry face of the cleric he’d been looking for.
“Wil’?” Mike slurred. It hurt like hell to even talk.
“Hey there.” Will let out a wary smile, tears in his hazel eyes. Mike wanted to wipe them away, but couldn’t even find the strength to lift his arms, let alone his head to get a better look. “We’ll get you patched up, alright? Try to save your energy.” Mike could hear the (not so) concealed cracks in the cleric’s voice.
And by tracking his gaze, Mike saw. . .oh he saw the gaping wound pushed through his armor, flesh and metal mixing together and forming a hideous scarlet. With every passing moment, more seemed to gush out, and Mike could only think: Had that always been there?
“You’ll be alright, Mike. Okay? You’ll-” Will let a sob escape his mouth, despair painted across his face. The cleric brought up Mike’s left hand to his lips, kissing it and grimacing at the coldness his pale skin left.
Mike blinked. “‘S it o’er?”
Will took a second to process his question, before letting the realization hit him like a carriage.
“You’ve done an excellent job, Mike. I couldn’t have asked for a better paladin. Now you can be free, yeah? Walk among sunnier skies and growing roses. You’re free.” Mike wasn’t- was he. . ? Oh, right, he was.
Mike wanted to close his eyes, but he didn’t want to lose Will. He’d never wanted to lose Will, and that’s what put him in this situation. Because Michael Wheeler would follow Will to the very ends of the land that was Hawkins, and to every crevice and end of the earth that the captor of his heart desired.
“I, William Byers, prince and professional cleric of Hawkins, deem you free from your duties. Ok-Okay?” Mike let out a soft groan, letting his face turn ever so slightly to touch the dewy grass beneath him, longing for some semblance of earth before his minute of passing.
And Will let his fingers card through Mike’s tangled and matted hair, still wet with blood from the battle, red somehow leaving a stain on raven strands. And he found the willpower to sing.
“Days seem as-as if they’ll never end.” Will started, sniffling. “Sun digs its-its heels to haunt you, but after sunlit days, one-one thing stands the same, rises the moon. . .”
Mike let himself smile.
“Days fade into a watercolour blur, memories swim and-and haunt you. But look into the lake, shimmering like smoke, rises-rises the moon. Oh-oh close your weary-weary eyes. . .”
And Mike did.