Chapter Text
Fall, 1987. Over a year since Max Mayfield went to sleep forever and Hawkins opened up a cross-dimensional gateway to hell. Over a year since half the town evacuated, since everything fell apart, since the world slowed to a steady state of constant and harrowing unease.
Will feels it in his bones, that constant dread. He wakes up to it, falls asleep to it, lives with it, dreams about it, hears it like an ongoing rattling in his head.
Sometimes it’s quiet, when Vecna sleeps or regresses back a few steps, to how he was when they almost killed him. When it’s quiet, everyone starts to relax, starts to allow themselves to live a little normally. Will tries too. He really does, but all it takes is for him to get that feeling again, that swooping roller coaster ride chilling the full length of his spine, and then it all restarts. With Nancy gripping the glock at her belt, with Jonathan and Mom crowding him like he might fall apart, with Mike sitting up in bed and holding open the covers with the question of another night together just fresh on his tongue.
The first quiet period lasted a total of two weeks. The second fell in tow at a worrying six days, and the rest have varied in the middle zone between those numbers.
It’s been quiet for far too long now, and it’s driving him all the way up the wall. Because quiet doesn’t necessarily mean ‘safe’. In Will’s mind, which he knows is also Vecna’s, quiet just means ‘healing’. That alone is enough to make him want to hurl.
But yeah. It’s been fine. Everything is fine, for now at least, and Will really doesn’t want to ruin that.
So he’s trying, really trying, to paint on a smile. The best one he can, just enough to fool anyone who might panic. Everything is fine, everything is fine. Everything. Is. Fine.
It really isn’t.
“So I’m torn between red and purple.”
Dustin makes a halfhearted flick at where one of his potato chips has fallen onto the cafeteria table. He grunts when it doesn’t connect, and tries again. This time, the chip skirts past all of them and falls onto the floor. “I don’t know, man. Ask Mike.”
Lucas immediately chokes on his milk carton. He hits the table with the side of his fist, and everyone jumps. “What, seriously? Mike? You want me to ask Mike about girlfriend flower arrangements?”
“What?” Mike snaps. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Lucas says, somewhat slow like he’s explaining this to a child, “that last year you carried a last minute bouquet on an entire plane trip from Indiana to California for your girlfriend…” He spreads his hands. “And you still managed to piss her off the second you landed. And don’t ask me ‘who told you that, Lucas?’ cause it was Jonathan, and Jonathan… never lies.”
While Mike slumps defeated down in his chair, Dustin sends Will a look to ask for confirmation on the story. Will just nods.
Mike, by some miracle, notices this tiny jerk of motion. “Will? Come on, it wasn’t that bad. Right?”
“Well…” Will says, and Mike’s face falls. “Your arrangement was a mix of purple and yellow. You barely put any purple flowers in it, and El’s favourite colour is purple. I would know.” He takes a bite of macaroni and adds through the mouthful; “I am her brother, so.”
“Ugh.” Mike takes a bite of his own macaroni. “Can we please not talk about that day? It sucked.”
Will nods again. Not because he’s agreeing to stop talking about it, but because Mike is one hundred percent correct that the day in question absolutely sucked.
“I’m just saying,” Lucas continues, “that the last time Mike even spoke to El was, like, a hundred days ago.”
“A hundred and five,” Mike mutters.
“God, Mike. You know, when you keep count it just makes it ten times more depressing for the rest of us.”
“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, wide eyed and cringing. “Yeah, no, I see it Lucas. Never mind. Don’t ever ask him about girlfriends. Ever.”
“Exactly, Dustin.”
“Ask me.”
“Dustin.” Lucas drops his face into his palms. “No.”
And yeah, sure, Dustin may be long distance with Suzie but at least he still talks to her through Cerebro. At least a distance across states isn’t enough to separate them, even though a distance of a twenty minute bike ride is definitely enough to separate Mike and El. And hey, it can’t be that bad if El hasn’t already dumped him again. Right? Will really needs to catch up with his sister soon.
Lucas is sitting next to him, so Will nudges him in the side, just soft enough to get his attention. The other boy raises his face from his hands.
“Purple is… pretty,” Will tells him quietly, “but I think red matches Max’s hair. I know she can’t see the flowers, but you know. Red would suit her.”
Lucas is admittedly a little teary eyed when he thanks Will with a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect, man. I’ll get some after school. She’s gonna love them.”
Will returns the smile. His chest is heavy when he speaks. “They’ll wake her right up.”
Though they never, ever do.
“Right, so, it’s pick up Holly, get the groceries, and go home. That’s… that’s pretty much the same as most days.”
Mike is kicking at the pedals of his bike, but he stops to look up at Will and scoff. “Don’t forget ‘oh boys, don’t go anywhere near the military base or the massive gashes in the ground. They’ll eat you right up!’ Yeah, yeah. I got it. No scary trenches with my baby sister keeping us company.”
Will mounts his bike with a harsh wince. “Avoiding that kinda stuff isn’t really my strong suit.”
“Aw-“ Mike frowns and mounts his bike too. “Give yourself some credit, Will. We’ve lasted nearly a year and a half without anybody getting possessed or killed.”
“Mike. Immediately knock on wood. I swear to god-“
“Hey, hey.” Still standing just over the seat of his bike, Mike uses the extra balance to take his hands off the handlebars and push them down like ‘chill’. “Everything’s fine. We’re fine.” He clicks his tongue. “Anyway. I know Mom said to get groceries, but I’m pretty sure we’re only fitting half the shopping list in our school bags. No one wants to lug all of that home.”
He has a fair point, but Will is nearly certain that if he, Holly, and Mike combined forces, they would surely be able to stuff every supply into their bags. He opens his mouth to protest, but a faint crackling sounds out from his hip, and it shuts him up instantly. Will holds up a hand in signal for Mike to stay where he is, and reaches down to unhook his walkie from his belt loops.
The second he pulls up the antenna, his mom’s voice comes in through the speakers.
“Will, sweetie? Are you there?”
“Here,” Will replies. He smiles at Mike, who’s looking back at him with wide and curious eyes. “Over.”
“Right. Over,” his mom agrees. “I mean, not over! I’m still speaking. Geez, I’ve really got to get the hang of these things.”
Will smiles a little wider. “You’re good, mom. You’re doing well.”
“Yeah, but we’ve had these for so long and I still- Hey, even you forgot to say ‘over’, Will! Caught you.”
“Caught me,” Will allows. Mike is grinning at him now. “I guess I’m not that strict on walkie-talkie rules anymore.” Everyone who frequently left the safety of the Wheeler house had gotten a personal walkie ages ago, just in case you got stuck somewhere without a phone and needed help. Joyce always snuck an extra one into Will’s bag before he left for school each morning, and hey, he can’t blame her for being thorough. It only takes a short look at his history to know she’s justified. “Is everything okay, mom? This isn’t an emergency, right? Because if it is, I’m on my way-“
“No, honey, no.” Joyce laughs, and the sound is a little staticky. “Listen, hon, I know you guys are doing the shopping today, but… I was wondering if you wanted to take a detour to the junkyard instead? El and Hopper are working on some things over there and- Listen, I’ve got Nancy’s car so I can pick up the groceries instead.”
Mike’s face immediately falls. “What? Will, did she just say ‘Nancy’s car’? That thing is, like, christened by the church or some shit. Nancy won’t let me anywhere near it.”
Will takes a moment to cover the walkie’s speaker. “Mike, my mom isn’t you.” He removes his hand. “Mom, is this detour thing just so you can go see Hopper? Because I’m sure you don’t need me and Mike and Holly there with you-“
“The detour,” his mom cuts in, a sense of urgency to her tone, “is so I can see not only Hopper, but also my little girl. El’s been pretty isolated, Will. I think it would be good for her, seeing her brother again.” There’s a pause before she takes an audible breath. “What do you say, kiddo?”
“I…” Will looks over at Mike for confirmation, but Mike is currently sending him very wide-eyed stares and is making sharp cutting motions at his neck. It’s a whole lot of ‘absolutely not’ and ‘please say no’ and ‘I would rather step into the Upside Down’. Will turns back to the walkie with a tight lipped smile. “That sounds perfect, mom. We’ll meet you there.”
“Will, what?”
Will ignores Mike, returns his walkie to his hip, and pushes off on his bike. He hears Mike scrambling behind him as he leaves him back at the bike racks.
“Will! You know she doesn’t want to see me. Come on!”
“Doesn’t want to see you-“ Will huffs when Mike catches up to him, matching his pace as they head toward Hawkins Middle. “She’s your girlfriend, Mike. Doesn’t that come with the relationship package? Wanting to see each other?”
“Clearly not.”
Will tries not to sigh or groan in the next thirty seconds it takes for the two of them to reach the middle school. He and Mike do a stellar job of avoiding collision with any of the twelve year olds, and navigate themselves to the next bike rack, where Holly is waiting for them. She already has her bike up and standing, and she’s tapping her foot against the gravel like an impatient gym teacher.
Will stops his bike and sets one foot down to steady himself. “Look. You can take Holly home right now, if you want. I can go meet mom by myself.”
Mike stops his bike with both feet at once, skirting abruptly against the little stones. “What? No. I agreed like a year ago to not leave either of you alone.”
“And you haven’t,” Will tells him, “and nothing’s happened.”
“Exactly.”
“I feel like your exactly and my exactly are two different-“
“I don’t want to go home with Mike.”
Both Mike and Will jump at Holly’s voice, despite the fact that they had literally biked right up to her and stopped directly in front of her to talk. Mike frowns at his little sister’s statement. Will rubs at his temple with a sigh.
“Hey Holly.”
“Hi Will! I don’t want to go home with Mike.”
Her brother grunts at this, an elegant sound. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re boring,” she tells him, very matter of fact. “And Will is much more fun to listen to as we bike. He talks about art and D&D and cool books. You only talk when he’s there, so you’re boring.”
“Holly, he’s there every day.”
“Yeah, you don’t really talk at home either when he isn’t there.” She shrugs. “So you’ll be boring without him.”
Will doesn’t defend Mike, as much as he’s sure Mike would like him to. He just sends him a smug grin, leans back a little on his bike, and hikes his backpack up on his shoulders. “Miss Holly has spoken. Looks like we’re going to see El.”
Mike groans, but Holly instantly perks up at the new name. “El?” She hops on her bike with a practised ease. “I’ve heard that name before. Mike, is that your girlfriend?”
“Yep,” Mike sighs.
“I haven’t met her before. Is she pretty?”
“She’s…” Mike steals a glance at Will, and when Will catches him looking he hurriedly clears his throat. “Yep. Pretty.”
Hands down, that has got to be the most glum Will has ever seen a guy be when calling his girlfriend pretty. Jonathan always gets this stupid look on his face when he talks about Nancy, like he can’t decide whether to act like they’ve been married for three years or like they’ve only been dating a day. But Mike just… He sort of shuts off, looks away, and spits out the most generic, to-the-point answer he can think of. It’s weird.
But Will no longer questions him. He’s done with questioning Mike; it’s exhausting. Better to act like this is normal, right? Of course he wouldn’t want to make an effort to speak to his girlfriend for months on end, and of course she wouldn’t make that effort either. That’s normal. They’re such a normal couple.
“Junkyard,” Will mutters, and then he’s up on his bike again and ready to leave. “Let’s go see my sister.”
Holly bikes past him as she says, “Mike, Will has a sister?”
“He does, yeah,” Mike tells her as he passes Will too. “That would be El.”
“El?” Holly questions, growing further away by the second. “Isn’t she also your-“
“Yep. My girlfriend.”
Their voices fade away.
There’s a prickling, somewhere in the back of Will’s mind, and it stops him from pushing the pedals and following the two Wheelers out of school. The prickling feels like dread, like crawling, and it travels down his neck and through his body, trickling down the veins in his arms; a sinister sort of babbling brook. It feels wrong.
All at once the goosebumps raise. The shiver runs down his spine. All the usual—he shouldn’t say usual—symptoms of growing evil. It’s been quiet for far too long. Now it’s a deafening drone.
“Will!”
Shit. Will drops his hand from where he had brought it up to the back of his neck, and spots Mike across the parking lot. He and Holly must have stopped when they noticed Will wasn’t following. His brows are furrowed, his head cocked to the side in a silent question.
When Will looks at Mike, the prickling vanishes. He’s safe. It’s fine. He’s safe.
He’s not. And neither is anyone else.
“Coming,” he calls. He shakes his head and starts toward them. “Sorry. I just spaced out. Let’s go.”
—————————
So there’s a thing that emus do- No, sorry. Ostriches. There’s a thing that ostriches do where they hide themselves when threatened. The common myth states that an ostrich gets overwhelmed by potential danger, and thus buries its head underground in the sand to avoid conflict. The correct depiction of their behaviour has the bird lying flat on the ground so that all of its gangly limbs and its neck becomes invisible to a prying predator, therefore essentially burying itself in its surroundings. It’s tactful. It’s cowardly. It’s non confrontational.
Yeah. Mike really wants to do that.
He wonders, vaguely, as he bikes up to the edge of the junkyard, if anyone would question him if he were to just stop, get off his bike, and lay down on the ground in defeat. Maybe it would swallow him up. Maybe Will would bury him out of pity. That could be nice.
Alas, his inaction leads him to actually arrive at his destination, no parts of him buried, and his heart all the way up in his throat. This is gonna suck. This is really, really gonna suck-
“Holy crap. Look at her.”
Mike doesn’t want to look at her, but he gives in and he follows Will’s gaze to find El. She’s about thirty feet away from them, among the rusting car frames, and she has a bandana tied around her head in a style Lucas would surely approve of. Mike, Holly, and Will watch as as she bolts toward the broken down bus, not slowing down in the slightest even as she draws near. Then she does something spectacular. El splays her hands at her sides and pushes, lifting off the ground and up, up, up. She clears the roof of the bus with a graceful ease, then disappears back down on the other side. It’s not like she’s falling from the flight, but instead like she knows exactly how to land. Like she’s done this before.
Mike is distantly aware of Holly’s fingers digging into his jacket sleeve. She shakes him back and forth a little bit. “She’s flying. Mike she’s flying, she’s flying, oh my god, she’s flying.”
“She flew,” Will breathes beside him.
A hearty ‘whoop’ sounds out from somewhere in the junkyard, and El runs out from behind the bus just as a burly bearded man sprints toward her too. They meet in the middle in a bear hug, and the man holds a small device high above their heads like it’s a trophy.
“Six seconds!” Hopper cheers. “Six seconds- Kid, that’s a record!” He pulls back from the hug and places a firm kiss to her cheek. “Good job, El!”
El beams at him.
“Oh, look who’s here!” It’s Joyce’s voice, that’s unmistakable. She rounds one the cars and makes a beeline for Will with her arms outstretched. Mike guesses it must be hugging time, with the way everyone is embracing each other. Whatever, he doesn’t know. It’s only when Joyce decides she’s done hugging her son and pulls Mike into a tight squeeze instead, that Mike nods to himself. Yep. Definitely hugging time. What is up with this family?
He breaks away from his hug with Joyce just in time to see El skip toward Will and wrap her arms around him. Mike just sort of stands there as the two siblings rock back and forth and whisper things that make each other smile. Will pulls back to swipe his thumb under El’s nose. El makes a face at the blood there and hands him a tissue. It’s all so natural, so… right.
But then that moment is over too, and Holly is still clutching his jacket sleeve, and Will is looking at him, and everyone is looking at him, including El.
Her hair has grown out; long enough to tie back now, and almost as long as it had been before Brenner and his men had shaved it. She’s holding herself confidently, but she always has, really. El has always been so… sure.
“I,” he says, because apparently he can’t form a sentence anymore. “I mean… hey. You, uh, you look good.”
In Mike’s peripheral, Will immediately averts his gaze. Which, that’s weird. Joyce sort of brings her shoulders up to her ears in a cringe, Hopper is hovering over her shoulder like some murderous hawk, and El is just blinking at Mike like she’s waiting for something else.
He pointedly clears his throat. “You- You flew.”
El nods. “I did. We’ve been practising that in the time you and I haven’t talked.”
And that’s… right, okay. That’s fair. It’s not like Mike has made an effort, but he’s had his reasons, you know? He’s been dealing with the—apparently postponed—end of the world, and he’s been keeping an eye on Will’s nervous supernatural tendencies, and he’s been looking after his little sister because his mom told him to and he agreed to it because he’s not an asshole- No, he is actually a bit of an asshole. But Holly’s here, and she’s safe, so that has to count for something, right?
He is, however, definitely the world’s lousiest boyfriend. He probably always will be.
El quits staring at him to cast her eyes downwards, and her gaze shifts from a cold assessment to a softer, gentler curiosity. “Oh? Who’s this?”
Holly, still holding an iron grip on her brother’s sleeve, is gazing up at El with the most awestruck expression Mike has ever seen. Her eyes are wide and unblinking, her mouth has dropped open, and she’s frozen stuck to the spot like someone’s gone and glued her there. She looks like she’s just come face to face with Wonder Woman, which, to be fair, is kind of true.
“Um, Holly,” Mike answers for her. “El… meet Holly. She’s my little sister.”
El’s face lights up. “What? I didn’t know you and Nancy had a sister.”
“I’m seven and three quarters.” Holly blinks for the first time in a full sixty seconds. “I… You’re really pretty.”
Really smiling now, El holds a proud hand to her chest. “I’m about sixteen and a third.” She scrunches up her nose. “And I think you’re really pretty too.”
Holly just about explodes.
“Mike.” She tugs on his sleeve, shaking him a little. “Mike. Mike. Mike.”
“Yep, yep,” Mike amends as he’s jostled about. “Everyone’s pretty. That’s great.”
He doesn’t know why he said that. Honestly, this entire interaction is going a little sideways and he hasn’t the faintest idea what he should be doing. Should he hug El? That seems forward, and also unnecessary, when he thinks it through. He’s glad he’s thought it through.
He should probably talk to her, for one. They haven’t really talked for a hundred and five days. Not since he showed up at the cabin unannounced back in March, with his hair shorn close and his face a red hot mess. He had taken the kitchen scissors to his locks and cut back all that he could, until the only person he saw in the mirror was his scared little twelve year old self. It had been the anniversary of… Eddie, and Mike was sick and tired of playing dress-up as a ghost; some department store version of his hero, of the town pariah, the freak. Months on end of tying back his hair and slowly going insane, and he’d snapped. Then he was at El’s door, and she… she was good about it. She had led him inside, wordless and solemn, and had ran her fingers through the messy excuse for a haircut while Mike pathetically tried to stop shaking.
That day he discovered that El is, surprisingly, quite handy with a good pair of scissors—plus, the various other tools she and Mike had found after rummaging through Hopper’s things. By the end of twenty minutes, she had him looking… ‘presentable’ is the appropriate word. Like he hadn’t broken down in his bathroom and taken off a good year’s worth of hair growth. Like he hadn’t biked to his on-the-run girlfriend’s house looking like someone had tortured a mop and thrown it onto his head.
When he had been restored to a state of ‘not a complete mess’ and had gotten up to leave, apologising and thanking her and apologising again, El had stood in the kitchen with her hands held close to her body and a question written in bold right over her head.
‘Are you gonna be okay, Mike?’
Mike had nodded, stilted but sure.
‘Are we gonna be okay?’
The options of ‘El, of course we are’ and ‘yeah, because I love you’ had rung through his mind in clear and obvious haste. But Mike had already felt far too horrid and sick to be able to bear more of that feeling from telling a lie, so he had only managed a weary little smile. Not at all a convincing thing.
‘I hope so.’
Yeah. Mike Wheeler really is the world’s lousiest boyfriend.
He’s still a bit dazed from his pathetic little flashback when Holly asks everyone if it’s alright for her to ‘go play with the pretty magician’. Hopper nods his approval. Mike forces a smile and absentmindedly pats his sister on the head. “Go on, then. Only if El’s okay with it.”
El still has on that friendly smile when she holds a hand out for Holly to take. Before they leave though, she turns to Will and sends him a very serious, somewhat pained glare. Mike doesn’t know what to make of this, but the two siblings pass several looks between them in what appears to be a silent conversation. Will looks at her like she’s suggested something ridiculous, like he’s denying something big. El looks at him like he’s being difficult and wrong.
She wins this wordless argument when he gives an all-suffering sigh and stomps past her into the junkyard. El grins down at Holly and the two of them follow right after him.
“What was that about?” Mike asks the adults.
Hopper sighs and shakes his head like ‘don’t ask me, I’m just the coach here’. “Couldn’t tell ya. Now come on.” He scoops a shovel from the ground and tosses it to Mike. “Make yourself useful while you’re here, Wheeler.”
Mike stumbles and only just catches the tool before it can stab him in the foot. “What? I didn’t come here for chores.”
“Too bad. We’ve got work to do.” Hopper turns on his heel and starts off in the a different direction to where Will and El have taken Holly. Without looking, he calls behind himself as he leaves. “Mike!”
“Coming! Jeez, I’m coming, okay.”
—————————
“You can talk to me.”
El had been dragging out the inevitable for at least ten minutes now. She had happily obliged Holly, lifting up any object she was asked to and occasionally throwing it around a bit, intercut with Will’s quiet objections that she might waste her energy and El’s regular responses saying she was ‘fine’ and ‘needed the practise anyway’. Will is pretty sure at this point that moving things with her mind is El’s equivalent to a casual workout. Lifting weights, you know? She doesn’t even have a bloody nose, with all she’s doing right now, and it’s downright impressive.
Will watches an old tire spin above Holly’s head, and he smiles a little when she reaches up to feel the rubber skim against her fingertips. “I know I can talk to you. You’re my sister.”
El softens a fraction. She’s still frowning though, and Will isn’t sure if it’s from concentration on the tire or just from her general frustration with him.
“You say that,” she tells him, “but you still don’t talk to me.”
“What? El, we’re talking now.”
El drops the tire, careful to land it beside Holly instead of on top of her, and Holly kicks at it dejectedly. El turns to him and sniffs. “Yes. We are talking. So, talk to me.”
She says the word like it’s significant. ‘Talk to me’, like he’s hiding something from her, like he’s troubled. He is troubled, he guesses, but that’s more of a constant state, so it’s really not worth noting or complaining about.
Will just shrugs, and tries for a light and easy tone. “I’m fine.”
“No. You’re not fine, you’re…” El searches for the word. “You’re off.”
“I’m not off. How am I off?”
His tone is immediately completely wrong, and his sister’s eyes narrow so much he’s not sure she can even see him properly. A nearby can flattens to a crumpled disc. She fold her arms over her chest and sighs while Will sweats.
“It was quiet,” she says. “How long has it been loud?”
“Loud?” Since when had Hopper been telling her about Will’s intermittent Vecna connections? Since they came back? Since today? Either way, he’s sure it’s far less important than all the vigorous training she’s been doing. Will frowns at her, defensive of the fragile peace he’s been maintaining for, what, three weeks or something. Jeez, it really has been way too long. “It’s not loud, El. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
She cocks her head at him. “It can’t be. We’ve already crossed the usual due date for one of your visions-“
“They’re not visions! I just get tingly on my neck. It’s stupid.”
“Okay,” she amends, slowly. “Your tingles.”
“Ugh.” Will grimaces. “I hate that too.”
“Spidey-sense,” she tries, and Will looks at her like she’s grown a second head, but also like that second head is kind of impressive. Whatever. He can’t help the bewilderment in his tone when he speaks.
“Since when did you know about Spider-Man?”
El shrugs, carefully aloof. “I sneak into the hospital to read Max comic books. Spider-Man was the most recent, and, well…” She smiles at him. “He really reminds me of you.”
“Oh.” Will smiles too. “I- Thank you.”
The nice moment lasts exactly four more seconds. He’s metaphorically slapped back into discomfort when her smile vanishes and she stares him down, levitating a nearby car seat and making Holly giggle. “Will. We’ve got to start fighting.”
Will doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t want to know what that means. “Wh- No, we don’t. El, I told you, we’re fine. I’m…” He falters, and it costs him his attempt at a lie. “I’m not sensing anything.”
“Yes.” She’s looking at him like he’s difficult. He guesses he is. “Will, yes you are. I know that look on your face-“
“-You don’t.”
“I know that look. It means, he’s back.”
“He’s… half dead.”
“He’s back.” El swipes a thumb under her nose, where the remnants of the blood from earlier has dried up. “And I need to kill him this time.”
Shit, he’s fucked up. He doesn’t know how he did it, but he’s shattered something good without even trying. He’s gone and taken a damn sledgehammer to it.
“El-“
“I have to talk to my dad,” El tells him as she drops the car seat from her focus. She only sends him a tight smile before she leaves, but it may as well be a cold glare. He knows it isn’t; he knows she’s not mad at him, she’s only mad at the danger, but it stings all the same.
“I… Okay,” he says, but she’s already halfway across the junkyard, so it’s sort of futile. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”
Holly catches Will’s eye for a second, and she cocks her head at him. There’s a vague feeling, in the very back of his mind, that he’s about to ruin something for her that he’ll never be able to take back. Despite all that he tries, he can’t quite pinpoint why.
Will can’t bring himself to tell Mike about it. The crawling feeling; that rush of dread. He knows it’s probably stupid, not communicating that it’s happening again and everyone is now in imminent danger, what with the way the feeling has changed, shifted, into something far more urgent and angry. But he keeps his mouth shut and shifts around in his sleeping bag in the effort to get comfortable. It won’t help, even if he does. He knows the nightmares are only waiting for him to close his eyes.
Mike is quite still above him, tucked into bed, sprawled across the mattress the way that he does when he’s got all the space to himself. It’s one of the reasons Will doesn’t often feel obliged to share the bed, even when Mike insists. It’s like he’s invading that space, forcing Mike to stay confined to one side with his limbs tucked in and his back turned away. It really is better this way; not telling him about the problem and letting him relax. It means they can both breathe easy. Well, Mike at least can breathe easy.
That’s more than enough for Will.
What’s beyond weird is how Mike barely spoke a word between the junkyard and retiring to his room. He only offered up minimal conversation during dinner, and most of that time was spent frowning and poking at his food. Will never managed to catch his eye, but he could feel Mike’s gaze piercing through him whenever he wasn’t looking, so it was pretty clear he was being watched. Mike does that, when he knows something’s wrong. He takes on a silent act while constantly searching a clue that might answer his question, all while trying not to be too pushy. He knows Will hates it when the others treat him like he’s fragile, and Will knows Mike is dying to just interrogate him and break the awkward bubble. But he’s being respectful, for now. And that’s nice, Will supposes.
It’s bad enough that Mike is being weird and quiet. It’s worse with that rolled up canvas directly in his line of sight when he lies on the floor like this. Every night, he sees it; the painting, carefully rolled and tied with a string, hidden in plain sight like some jeering laugh. He hates it; hates what he did. He doesn’t know whether Mike placing it there is a good thing or not. He’s tacked several of Will’s drawings up on his walls, and he’s scattered some more over his desk, even the ones Will threw away without another thought. But the painting stays hidden under the bed. Just another scene to add to his sleeping terrors. He’s really stacking these up like playing cards.
“Will.”
Will sort of startles with the sound, then curses himself for jumping when he’s literally sharing a room with another person. He breathes and settles back down on his pillow, hands over his belly. The way Mike had said his name, it wasn’t a question. It was just stated, like he was considering the word aloud. So, no need to respond.
“Will?”
Oh, he’s actually starting up a conversation now. Will clears his throat, worried his voice might crack after not speaking for a while. “Wh- Yeah?”
There’s a rustling above him, and then Mike’s voice is a whole lot closer, clearer in the dark. “I just, um… Are you going to have nightmares again?
Will’s eyes widen. “No.”
“You sure?” Mike tries. “Because Hopper sort of said…”
Shit. So here’s the interrogation.
“I’m fine, Mike. Just… tired. It’s really not a big deal. It’s just another stupid scare.”
“Will… El looked pretty serious when she walked up to us. It just… it looked like she’d made up her mind and-“
“Mike.” Will rolls over onto his side, away from the bed, and grits his teeth. “I can’t do this, okay? We can’t go through this again.”
“It’s fine if we do.”
There’s a few long seconds of silence, in which Will glares into the dark and Mike very unhelpfully takes this opportunity to shut his mouth and wait for a reply. He decides against this in the end and Will hears a sound like he’s just slapped a hand against his own face.
“I mean- shit. It’s not fine, obviously, because Vecna’s such a creep and he wants to murder everyone, but I meant it more like… it’s fine because we’re prepared.”
Will blinks. “We’re not, though.”
“Well, yeah, not against his Upside Down army,” Mike huffs, “but we know him better this time, right? You said yourself, you know how he thinks. And that’s a good thing, Will. That’s a good thing. Super-spy, right? And we’ve gotta do this sooner or later. Fight him, I mean. So why not now? It’s been, like, ages since everything went to shit.”
Will rolls over again, back the other way. He finds Mike leaned over the side of the bed, hair tousled from his pillow, his face all set and serious. Something lightens in his expression when he sees Will look at him.
“Last time I was the super-spy,” Will whispers, “so many people were killed.”
“Okay,” Mike amends. “But you were also thirteen when that happened. None of that was your fault.”
“Yeah.”
“Hey.” Mike frowns at him. “None of that was your fault.”
Will doesn’t answer him. He just nods, and does his best not to tear up. That would be embarrassing. Still, the sudden prick of emotion is enough to make him blink it all away.
“Seriously, Will. We’re more prepared than we’ve ever been.” Mike has propped himself up on his elbows, but he still uses his hands to gesture when he speaks. “Like, El has been training and strengthening her powers for ages, and the military is annoying but at least they’re aware now and they’ll shoot monsters on sight, and…” He points a sure finger at Will. “And we have you.”
Will sighs. “How does that help?”
“It’s always helped.” Mike says it like it’s the most obvious fact in the world. “It’s literally always helped. You can feel when the Upside Down is active. You found Hopper when he was stuck in the tunnels, you told us to close the gate, you warn us of danger before it happens. Will, you know what Vecna’s thinking. That’s… Well, it’s horrible and I wish you didn’t have him in your brain, but… it’s helpful. We’re one step ahead, seriously. We’re gonna be fine.”
And that’s… When Mike says it, it just sounds right. Like if Will questioned that surety, he would be fundamentally wrong. And with the way Mike is looking at him now, leaned over the bed frame, hair a mess of ruffled curls, and his eyes so dark and so, so, beautifully confident. It’s in the furrow of his brow, the clench of his jaw. Will thinks he might just pass out from it all. It’s a damn good thing he’s already horizontal.
He’s so busy staring, he nearly forgets he needs to reply. “You really think so?”
“Yeah.” Mike smiles, and it’s easy. “Yeah, I really do.”
So, maybe Will loses a little composure and melts into what he’s sure is an embarrassingly love-sick grin. Maybe he blushes a little, but the room is dark enough for plausible deniability.
Mike rolls back over so that he’s no longer leaning over the edge, and Will supposes the conversation is over, then. That did seem like a good place to leave it, a good and productive chunk of communication. A bit of ‘you look sad’ and ‘nope, I’m just sick of the world ending’. A little ‘I might be fundamentally problematic’ and ‘no, you’re pretty neat, actually’. He breathes a silent yawn and begins to shut his eyes, but there’s another bit of rustling sheets, and then Mike’s hand slips over the side of the bed so that it hangs in easy reach from the ground.
Will stares at it. He’s not entirely sure if that was intentional.
“You, uh… You might get nightmares tonight,” Mike says, and it’s such a low murmur that Will would miss it if he weren’t so laser focused on this boy. Mike sighs above him, and it’s just the tiniest bit shaky. “I don’t know if you remember, but we used to hold hands when we were younger and one of us got scared. It always helped back then.”
Will swallows. “It did.”
“So, I’m here,” Mike tells him. “In case you need me. And if it gets so bad that the, uh… hand isn’t enough… You can come up if you want. You know you can.”
Perhaps there’s a part of Will that’s a little insane, a little crazy. He reaches up and touches his palm to Mike’s, and just when he expects him to change his mind and pull away, fingers tighten around his and Mike slots their hands together.
Will curses himself a little when his breath hitches. It sounds like Mike huffs out a stilted laugh.
“You’re not even dreaming yet.”
Mike is holding Will’s hand. It sure feels Ike he’s dreaming.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
Mike tuts and squeezes his hand. Once, twice. “No sorrys. I like this.”
Oh.
“I… I like it too.”
“Cool,” Mike whispers.
Will smiles, and he closes his eyes. “Cool.”
—————————
Dustin looks like he’s been ambushed.
Mike spares no time tiptoeing around that fact when he notices. “Dude, you look like shit.”
“Okay, screw you too, Mike.” Dustin dumps his backpack on the cafeteria table. He had arrived late, after missing first period, and it’s clear he’s been in a scuffle. His eyes are low-lidded in a way that suggests he hasn’t been sleeping. His Hellfire tee is ripped open at the collar.
Lucas smacks Mike on the arm, and it seems it was purely a reflex, because he immediately turns around and agrees with him. “No, Dustin, he’s got a point. You’re okay, right? You didn’t provoke anyone?”
Dustin huffs. “Why does everyone assume I’ve done the provoking? Can’t a guy just exist and piss off some jocks without trying?”
“Shit.”
Mike widens his eyes at Will, who sends him the exact same expression. Lucas walks himself in a full anxious circle, hands on his hips and cursing.
“Shit, shit, shit. Those jerks! Shit, I’ve gotta talk to them. They’re gonna beat the shit out of you if they’re allowed to just do whatever. I’ve gotta get my shit together-“
“That’s a count of seven for how many times Lucas just said the word ‘shit’,” Mike deadpans. “Just so the table is aware.”
Now it’s Will’s turn to smack him on the arm. “You’re one to talk.”
“Lucas, it’s fine,” Dustin says, but he grumbles the words so it really doesn’t seem fine. “Seriously, it’s not like you have any authority with them, you know. You may be a jock…” He drops into his seat. “But you still got hunted last year like the rest of us.”
And look, Mike wasn’t there during the whole man-hunt Hellfire demon spawn fiasco. Neither was Will. But the repercussions of it still hit him in the chest like a battering ram. Dammit, he’d cut his hair out of grief, he’d lost multiple people at once and had returned to a town that not only hated him, but now as an added bonus also wanted him quietly burned at the stake. No one in the party could go anywhere without a few withering glares, and that includes Will, who had never at any point been an official member of Hellfire. Apparently, Dustin now couldn’t go anywhere without getting physically ambushed by some buff assholes in green.
Mike looks at Dustin as his friend sits there rubbing at his eyes. He looks at his scuffed knuckles and his torn shirt, and a certain anger bubbles up from deep in his chest. That shirt was Eddie’s legacy, written on fabric; a piece of him, a commemoration. How dare they rip its hems. How dare they even touch him.
He doesn’t notice he’s frozen until Will breaks him from it; a gentle nudge with the back of his hand against Mike’s arm. He turns his head and zeroes in on Will’s face. There’s a conflicted expression there, something frightened. It makes him frown a little deeper.
“We need to tell them.”
Mike blinks, and nods, and then shoves his hands in his pockets and nods again.
Will had only whispered, but Dustin perks up with a newfound spark in his eyes. “Tell us what? What’s going on?”
Lucas doesn’t question Mike and Will, he just furrows his brows and glares down at the table. It’s clear he’s listening, despite that. His foot begins to tap against the floor at an increasing rate.
“Well?” Dustin prods.
“He’s back,” Will blurts. “I mean- he’s active again, and I can feel it. For real this time. I told El already and she… She thinks it’s time to take action. She says she’s ready. She says it’s time.”
Mike nods, yet again, to back up the announcement. Dustin’s eyes widen slowly. Lucas stops tapping his foot to whirl around, out of his seat and onto his feet in a second.
“Lucas-“ Will starts.
“So what does this mean?” Lucas demands. “Is he- is he killing again? Do we need music? Is a-“ He gestures a hand toward the far wall. “-a demogorgon gonna jump through that window and maul us or something?”
Mike quickly shakes his head. “Lucas- No. We don’t know details, okay? The adults are forming a plan right now.”
“Really, Mike? The adults? Since when did you leave the planning up to adults? I know that I never have. I’m not gonna start now.”
“Well it’s not like I’m laying down and letting them take complete charge. I’ve got plans forming.”
“Oh yeah? What are they?”
“Jesus,” Dustin hisses. “Just- shut up, both of you. I’ve got a headache. I can’t- Shit.” He stands up and grabs his bag, and he still hasn’t eaten a thing. Dustin claps Will on the shoulder as he passes him and, okay, looks like he’s heading out. “Can you all just follow me? We need space for this. We need air.”
“Air. Sure,” Will agrees. “Sorry, Dustin.”
He turns around to throw Mike and Lucas an expectant stare.
“Sorry, Dustin,” they echo.
Then the party grabs their bags and follows him out of the cafeteria, down the halls, and out into the bright chilled air of early Hawkins winter. It’s a longer walk than they thought it would be, and the ominous silence is occasionally interrupted by a stifled yawn or a snap of gravel or twigs. Dustin only checks behind himself a couple of times to make sure none of them have strayed. He leads them past the bike racks, over the field, and well into the forest beyond.
Mike walks the whole way in long, languid strides. Will keeps his footing rather skittish and quick, and he has a tendency to stray at least six feet from Mike when he travels. Mike is sure this isn’t on purpose; he must be zoning out, so he sidles up to Will’s side and lightly bumps their shoulders together. Will snaps back to focus with a harsh blink before he shakes it off and sends Mike a timid smile. Mike smiles back. Can’t let him wander too far.
Just when the walk begins to get a little annoying, the four of them enter a small clearing where the ground is littered with dried leaves and a plain wooden bench table which sits in the centre, long abandoned and bleached by the sun. Dustin shrugs off his backpack and sweeps a hand over the table surface. The movement sends a small cloud of dust into the air behind him.
Lucas is clearly antsy as he rubs his hands together and sighs. “Hey, what’s going on here? Are we planning something? Are we isolating ourselves so no one hears us when we scream?”
“Lucas.” Dustin groans when he sits down at the bench table. “No one’s getting Vecna’d.”
“Are you sure? Because we’re all pretty susceptible to it, after last year. He feeds on trauma, right? You lost Eddie, I lost Max, and Will…” Lucas grimaces. “Well, Will kinda has a million reasons why Vecna would take him. I’m surprised we don’t have you constantly hooked up to a Walkman, dude.”
Will nods, and there’s another moment of silence while Dustin retrieves a number of items from his bag to place them on the table. Compass, map, some pens. Mike, after taking his allotted few seconds to process an idea, frowns at Lucas.
“And me?”
His friend considers him a moment. “What? I mean, sure.”
“But- wait no,” Mike backtracks. He shakes his head. “I mean, I’m probably fine. Not too much going on with me, anyway.”
“Really?”
Dustin looks up from his map to frown at Mike. “But back in ‘83 you jumped into the-“
“Woah, man!” Mike yelps, just as Will stumbles a little and says, “What? Jumped into what?”
“Nothing.” Mike glares at Dustin, who blinks and comes to terms with what he’s getting at.
“Uh, I mean, the lake,” he scoffs. “Well, the whole… danger thing. Man, taking a random girl into your home? Really jumped into this mess headfirst, huh Mike?”
Mike wants to jump headfirst into the quarry. Again.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “So… uh, stupid of me. Look where we are.”
Will makes a move to place a hand on Mike’s arm, probably to comfort him or something, but Lucas makes him retreat with a swift clap. “Right! Enough blaming ourselves, enough reminiscing. I wanna know what Dustin’s cooking up over here.” He turns to the table and rubs his eyes over the spread of gear. “What is this? A map of Hawkins? Is that the military base?”
“Well, you know, it’s a work in progress,” Dustin mutters. His voice raises in confidence once Lucas encourages him with a pat to the shoulder. “Okay, look. I’ve been slowly making note of all weaknesses in both military and inter-dimensional locations. This is the base, right? They’ve set up camp in the centre of town, but there are weak points in the walls and scaffolding. I swear, when I look in through the gaps, I can see the actual gate. The big one, I mean. They’ve been patching up the four splits in the ground, but this one? This one is… huge.”
—————————
“The adults will be thinking on the side of… I think it would be optimal to… Just think about it, okay? We’re in the just the right… Exactly, Mike. If we catch… Gates will be… and El could… Hopper… while we… burn…”
The air, Will thinks as he listens to Dustin’s voice fading from his mind, is getting a little hazy.
The voices continue to fade, warping and lowering in volume until he can’t hear them at all. The talking has stopped. His friends are silent. The trees only rustle in the early winter breeze.
His vision doesn’t clear until he blinks the haze away, the way you do when sleep is still in your eyes, when you have yet to fully enter consciousness.
Two blinks, he sees the definition of the bark on the tree trunks. Four blinks, and the sky turns red with the glow of brilliant flames.
That can’t be good.
Will forgets to tell his friends he’s leaving; he barely notices them now. But the sky is burning and the air is thick with dust and grain, so it must mean he should go and see what might be causing it. The dust is gritty against his teeth, though he never opened his mouth to let that happen. The ground is cold beneath his feet; he feels the chill of it through the soles of his sneakers.
Is it snowing already? He’s not sure, but he can’t seem to look down for the life of him, not even to check. No, the sky is much more captivating, glowing and vibrant and beautiful in only the way an explosion can ever be. It’s violent too, a seething rage up in the clouds. Will watches it churn high above, and he barely shivers when the presence of it rolls over his body in thick, icy waves.
Will suspects, distantly, that he’s no longer in control. The notion should drive him crazy, should send him running, but he plows ahead, back toward the school and the field.
There’s something forming in the clouds. A shape, spindly and curling its many legs toward the ground, toward Will. It’s an odd creature. It has no face, and some of its legs branch out into more. The whole look of it is so ambiguous, it only makes you want to stare, and stare a little longer so you might determine what on earth it all means.
It’s familiar.
It’s so familiar. Will wants to reach it, to touch it, to remember.
His walking leads him dead centre onto the field, and the creature looms ever closer. How odd, he’s been here before.
He’s been… He knows this place, what’s going on?
’Will,’ says a voice. It resonates from a place so deep within his mind, he barely hears it. A distant call, a shout from far across a ravine.
The shape— the creature —is only a short while above him now. It’s clear, it wants to reach him too. They know each other, don’t they?
’Will’. The voice is clearer now, the distance shortened, heightened in his senses.
Will reaches up a hand. The creature bristles and churns its body of shadow and dust, a gleeful reaction to his outstretched hand. The sound makes Will’s hairs stand on end. A shiver, liquid and stinging, trickles down his spine.
Someone is laughing. ‘Will, you’re finally home’. The laughing is coming from inside his head, but he’s not the one who’s in on the joke.
’Hey there, little spy’.
Someone is yelling, too. Only, this new voice comes from a source outside of Will’s consciousness. Someone else.
’Will’.
The yelling continues, an urgent tone. Will feels his shoulders being shaken; he doesn’t see who does it.
’One wrong move and I’ll take her. I’ll take the girl’.
The shadow creature is only metres from his hand now. Will isn’t sure what he’s doing. He doesn’t know what any of this means.
’I… will take… the girl’.
Then it happens, and Will sees her. She appears in flashes. Bright clothes. Long hair. Scuffed shoes. Bloodied fingers. Broken bike. Wet floor. Screaming, screaming, screaming—
“Will!”
Will jolts, and all the visions snap out of view like a light switched on in a dark room. The sky is grey again, the creature is gone, the voice has retreated back across the ravine in his mind.
Will gasps in a breath of air and then he’s heaving in more because he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe enough of it to calm down. There are hands on his arms, so he clutches at the person’s sleeves with an iron grip he would care about reducing if he could just breathe properly.
Dammit, he needs to breathe.
“Will?” There’s that voice; the nice one that brought him back. One of the hands leaves his arm to tilt his chin and then press firm against his chest. Right over his lungs, where the air won’t enter. “Will? Will, please, you need to breathe- You need to come back-“
“He’s having a panic attack!” a second voice yelps.
“I know, I know, I know,” says the first one. The hand on Will’s chest presses in harder, and Will squeezes at the person’s sleeves as his breathing quickens. He’s lowered down to the grass, his knees bending as he kneels. At least three more hands land on his body, his shoulders, his back, his head. “Breathe, Will. C’mon, please. Will!”
“Do something!”
“Dammit, Lucas, he’s not breathing-!”
There’s a blunt force, a stark jolt as the side of a fist connects with his sternum. Will coughs, keels forward, and heaves in his first proper breath of air. It feels like the life has been given back to him, like his entire body hums a sigh of relief.
He barely gets a word out before he’s tackled into a hug.
“Mike, don’t strangle him-“
“Will! Oh my god, you’re okay!” The person hugging him loosens his hold after a short few seconds and then leans back until his face— Mike’s face —comes into view. His eyes are huge as they scan over Will, and Will would be more self conscious about it if he weren’t so frazzled. “Hey…” The corners of his mouth twitch up as he touches a tentative hand to Will’s cheek. “Hey, what happened there? Are you okay?”
“Did you-“ Will coughs again. His chest is still aching. “Did you… punch me, or something?”
Mike’s eyes, if it’s even possible, widen even more. “No- No, that was Lucas. He came out of nowhere with that-“
“I had to!” Lucas argues. “You were being too gentle, Mike. You can’t be afraid to rough him up. I needed to hit him to get the air flowing.”
Will wheezes. “Thank you, Lucas.” In response, Lucas reaches out and rubs at his back.
“I’m sorry,” Mike says, and Will frowns at him as he regains his composure. “We were so focused back there, I didn’t notice when you wandered off. I mean, of course you’re gonna be targeted now. He’s back. Who am I kidding?”
“Stop that.” Will finds Mike’s shoulder, and he gives it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m okay. You found me, right?” He squeezes again, just for emphasis. “You found me. Thank you.”
If only slightly, Mike’s face relaxes. “Okay.”
Dustin is there too. He’s standing behind Mike, hands on his hips and frowning the way he does when he’s rushing through a thousand thoughts a minute. His bag is nowhere to be seen, so he must have dropped everything and ran here to help. He’s looking at Will now, a mix of alarm and concern dancing in his eyes.
“Will, you saw something. Didn’t you?”
And that’s… oh. Just the effort to remember has Will dizzy again. Mike steadies him with his hands when he wavers. Will holds onto one of Mike’s wrists. “It was… the Mindflayer.”
Yeah, that’s right. He hadn’t known that when he had been there. It was like it didn’t want him to know, and perhaps that had lulled him into a false sense of security. It’s terrifying, when he thinks about it, just how close he had been. And it hadn’t been the first time.
“The Mindflayer.” Lucas sits down next to Will and Mike on the grass. “It didn’t get you, did it?”
Will is quick to reassure. “No. Jeez, no, it didn’t possess me. Seriously, I swear.”
Lucas smirks and bats Will on the arm. “That’s what a possessed person would say, yeah.” He ducks his head when Mike shoots him a glare.
“It wasn’t just the Mindflayer,” Will continues. “Vecna was there too. He was, uh, speaking in my mind, so I couldn’t see him.”
“What’d he say?” Dustin prods.
All eyes fall on Will with a heavy sudden attention. They won’t look anywhere else, and he feels himself shrink under their eyes. It’s not like he can’t remember what Vecna had said. In fact, it rings clear as day through his thoughts. He’s just… how to put it? He’s sick and tired of being the damn bearer of bad news.
Mike, as usual, doesn’t let him stray too far. He still has his hands on Will, and gives him a gentle jostle. “Will, what did he say?”
Oh, fuck this.
“It was about a girl.” Will looks each and every one of his friends in the eye, in turn. “He said ‘one wrong move and I’ll take her. I’ll take the girl’.”
Next to him, Lucas rattled out a shaky breath. “Okay, what girl? El?”
“No.” Will looks at Mike, and he holds his gaze steady when he finds it. “I think… I think he’s going to take Holly.”