The gang is holed up in Mike Wheeler’s basement — again, for hours now almost. Heads are bent over maps, notebooks, and drawings, talking in circles and barking over each other to an unnecessary extent.
It’s getting to a point now where the basement is feeling far too warm, too tense, and Will is going to lose his mind if he has to listen to Mike stand up out of his seat and protest someone’s idea one more time.
Everyone’s exhausted, probably borderline malnourished now, and one wrong word said away from snapping. Mike’s been running on pure fumes for days, Will knows. Too little sleep, too much stress… and it’s catching up to him. Will doesn’t blame him.
“Dustin, that won’t even work if the generator isn’t–”
“Mike,” Lucas sighs. “You’ve said that three times.”
“Because none of you are listening!” Mike says, frustrated, standing up from the couch once again and splaying both hands on the table with a thud that sends a few pencils rolling down the map. His voice is too loud for how small the space is. “If we screw this up, we’re all going to be killed. What do you people not get–”
“Mike, sit down.” Nancy groans.
Robin mutters something under her breath as her and Max fiddle with a radio wire from across the table.
He’s talking over everyone, hands gesturing everywhere to the point where Will is almost smacked in the side of the head a few times, or stabbed with the pencil Mike had been holding. His temper flares, and he leans forward.
“Mike,” Will says, reaching a hand out and curling his fingers gently around Mike’s forearm. “Stop.”
It’s a gentle touch, even he himself almost didn’t notice it had slipped out. It’s careful. Mike’s voice dies out mid-word. His breath stutters, and for the first time in a while, he looks at Will.
Will can see it all. The exhaustion, the fear, the guilt in Mike’s face. He wonders if Mike notices it in him too.
The touch is hot, even over the thick fabric of Mike’s jacket sleeve. Will’s looking up at him through his eyelashes, his gaze steady and impossibly gentle, with just the faintest hint of firmness behind his voice. Look at me.
There’s no anger. No annoyance or hostility. Just calm.
Everyone else goes silent, watching the way Mike’s posture unravels. The tension slips out of his shoulders almost instantly like Will’s touch just drained everything right out of him, all the fight he had left in him at this moment.
Mike’s breath stutters. He swallows, nodding once, his eyes not leaving Wills. No one speaks for a long moment — everyone just looks between them, uncertain and examining.
Lucas is the first to break the silence, murmuring “Damn, he does have an off switch,” to Dustin.
Mike exhales shakily, runs a hand over his face, and drops back into the couch cushion with a tired thud. All of the fight has left his face; he doesn’t try to argue again. He just sits there, gaze locked somewhere down at the table, eyes glassy and unfocused like he’s completely tuned everything and everyone out.
Conversation picks back up slowly around them after Jonathan dramatically clears his throat. Will is thankful for it.
Under the table, Will shifts closer. He reaches out, his hand finding Mike’s knee, tentative at first like he’s questioning if he’s even allowed to touch him again.
Mike doesn’t shift away or protest. So, Will drifts his thumb back and forth: once, twice, slow and gentle across the fabric of Mike’s jeans. I’m here. I care. It’s okay.
Mike doesn’t look up, but his breathing evens out and his shoulders ease, motivating Will further.
A couple of seconds pass before Mike’s hand — slow and incredibly uncertain, slides down beside his own. His fingers graze the top of Will’s hand.
Will’s heart nearly jumps out of his chest with a sharp, dizzy rush flooding through him before he can take another breath.
Their pinkies find each other without thought, sliding and hooking together, an unspoken language the two of them had always been fluent in.
Neither of them look up. They don’t risk it. They don’t have to.
Will gives one last stroke of his thumb before he withdraws his hand, folding it in his lap. They both stare forward. No one seems to notice.
And though nothing's said, it’s written all over the space lingering between them. The trust and the tether, the way it’s always Will who brings him back.
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