where you're most vulnerable
///byler comic hand drawn and scanned by ash-writes-and-draws///
Will runs his fingertip along the edge of his pocket knife, Mike's chatter over the walkie on the other side of the bunker indistinct background noise for his thoughts.
It's me. His puppet… His spy… It's always been me. I'm his eyes.
But… maybe he made a mistake, using me as his weapon.
Will closes his eyes. Deep breath in, bracing himself.
I'm not a child anymore. He doesn't know what I'm capable of.
His hands shake. Eerily backlit by the only lamp in the room, he raises the blade to his face, one push away from taking out his left eye and severing the connection between himself and Vecna.
After all, eyes…
Exhale.
… are most vulnerable.
A blissfully unaware Mike turns around as whoever is speaking on the other end of the radio asks after his other half.
“Will? Yeah, he's right—”
Time freezes. Mike's gut plummets to his feet. In an instant, he's at Will's side, gripping his shoulder and shouting his name.
“The fuck are you doing?”
Will turns his head. Knife still cinched tightly in his fist. He doesn't speak. There's dread and pain in his eyes.
“... Will?” Mike's voice is smaller now, just like always when he senses he ought to be gentle with him. Not that Will has ever been fragile. But now his lip quivers like he may shatter at any second.
He extends his hand. “... please give me that.”
Will still doesn't respond. His heart is beating so loud in his ears he may not have heard Mike at all. Gaze tunneled on his blade.
“Will? Hey, c'mon. Put that down. Talk to me,” Mike pleads, grip relaxing on Will's shoulder, palm a gentle weight. He guides him to sit on the filing cabinet behind them and stands before his partner. Giving him room.
Will releases a shuddering sigh. “It's… getting worse, Mike. Every day, I can feel him growing stronger.”
His thumb taps the sharp edge in a frantic metronome that does little to calm his nerves. “As long as I'm connected to him, I'm a liability. I won't be his spy again. Don't I get a say in what happens to my own body? Even if that means destroying part of it so he can't use me anymore?”
Mike's knees drop into Will's field of vision. He raises his eyes to meet him kneeling in front of him, doe eyes wide and concerned. It takes his focus off the knife for a moment before he drops his stare back to his lap.
“Honey…” Mike murmurs, reaching up to brush Will's unkempt hair behind his ear. He leans in closer so they're nose to nose. “... it's cruel and unfair how many times your agency has been ripped away. Seeing what you've gone through the past few years…”
He's never admitted this. He knows Will never wanted pity, but his voice splinters around the words all the same as they tumble out gracelessly. “My heart's shattered for you.”
Mike tilts Will's head up to hold eye contact and keeps his hand by his jawline. For the first time, we see all of Will's face unobscured.
“But despite it all… you're still here. What Vecna's done to you doesn't define you, Will. You do. Of course your body is your own. I'm sorry it doesn't always feel that way.” If he thinks too hard about the implications of those words, what's left of Mike would fracture into a million pieces. “Gouging your own eye out, however, is not the answer. Can you look at me, angel?”
Will tears his eyes away from the switchblade for good this time as Mike holds his free hand out again. Tears stream down his cheeks; the most vulnerable Mike had ever seen him.
And he hands over his pocket knife.
“We'll find another way. We'll get you out of this,” he promises, accepting it from Will's shaking fingers.
“Mike…?” Will looks tortured as ever. “I'm sorry.”
His lip quivers. “It's okay. You're okay. C'mere,” Mike coaxes, setting the knife down behind him on the floor and pulling Will down into his arms. He dissolves against his shoulder.
“You're so strong. I wish you didn't have to be.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Too much to let you hurt yourself.”
“I'm so tired of all this shit.”
Mike sighs. “I know. Me, too. But you know I'm not leaving your side. Spy or otherwise.”
He pulls back enough to fix Will's gaze, still clutching each other's sleeves. One of Will's hands is still curled in the back of Mike's hair.
“‘Crazy together’. That's what we agreed on, yeah?”
Will almost smiles. “Yeah, we—"
Whatever he was going to say dies on the tip of his tongue. "... just kiss me, Mike.”
“M'kay.”
So they do.
