The radio tower hummed softly around them, its machinery thrumming in a steady, almost comforting rhythm that filled the empty space where voices should have been. Outside, the night pressed in close — cold, silent, wrong. Hawkins had never felt so hollow.

It had been nearly a year and a half since the rift tore open the world they knew, since the Upside Down bled into their streets and stole what little sense of normalcy they had left. The military now ruled the town with checkpoints and floodlights, keeping the remaining citizens locked inside while the real work happened beneath the surface. Crawls, they called them — dangerous, desperate expeditions into the dark, hunting a monster that hadn’t been seen since the night it tore everything apart.

And tonight, everything had gone wrong.

Will sat slumped against the cold metal wall of the radio tower, knees drawn slightly toward his chest, his breathing uneven. His face was pale beneath the harsh fluorescent light, skin still flushed from the lingering effects of the vision that had ripped through him without warning. One moment he’d been helping monitor the signal, the next he’d been somewhere else entirely — seeing through the demogorgon’s eyes, feeling the tremor of something massive moving through the dark, watching as it mercilessly attacked soldiers as he helplessly watched.

Mike knelt in front of him, close enough that their knees nearly touched. He hadn’t moved since Will collapsed, not even when the others rushed out to respond to the chaos unfolding across Hawkins. His hands were steady now, but only because he was forcing them to be.

“Hey,” Mike said quietly, brushing damp curls back from Will’s forehead. His touch lingered longer than necessary, thumb resting just at Will’s temple, “Are you sure you’re okay? Your face is all red.”

Mike’s jaw tightened. He hated that look — the distant, haunted one Will got when the Upside Down brushed too close. Hated even more that there was nothing he could do to take it away. Still, he stayed there, grounding him the only way he knew how: steady presence, quiet care.

“You’re safe,” Mike said softly, “You’re here. I’ve got you.”

The words slipped out instinctively, honest and unguarded. For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them felt charged — not with fear this time, but something gentler. Something that had been building for years in stolen glances, shared silences, and moments like this where the rest of the world seemed to fall away.

Will looked up at him then, really looked at him, and Mike felt his chest tighten. There was gratitude there. Trust. And something else, unspoken but unmistakable, hovering in the quiet space between them.

Outside, the world was unraveling — Hopper lost in the dark, Dustin missing, the others fighting battles of their own. But in the dim light of the radio tower, with the hum of failing electricity and the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air, Mike stayed right where he was.

Because if the world was ending again, he wasn’t going to let Will face it alone.