Chapter Text
June 27, 1985
Whenever Will fell asleep in his own bed – the one with the sun-warmed sheets of the world where he was alive – he saw Mike.
At first, he had thought that they had been just dreams, that his mind had started making up scenarios to mock him – to mock whatever had been brewing inside his head for a while now. And whatever it was, it scared him, because it made him feel things. Strange things.
He and Mike had always been undeniably close, closer than he and Dustin or Lucas had ever been. There had always been something special about Mike, something that Will couldn’t quite understand all up till now.
Will had seen his best friends fall in love. He had seen Mike fall in love with Eleven, and he had seen Lucas fall in love with Max – and the idea of love had always scared him. Whenever he had seen them kiss or hold hands, he would imagine himself standing in front of a pretty girl, looking straight into her eyes and… feeling nothing. And it used to make him sad, furious even, because why wouldn’t he be able to feel all those things? He had seen how Mike’s eyes would light up whenever he saw El, and he had seen how Lucas would stare at Max as if she had been his whole world.
And Will had tried, really, but he still couldn’t understand what was “the big deal” about love. Quite the opposite – whenever Mike had been talking about Eleven, with such admiration, something in his stomach would twist and turn uncomfortably as if he had hated the concept of love. And it had scared him, because it shouldn’t have been like this. He had been taught that love should be something beautiful, something special. It has always been like this – in movies, in books, in comics. Love would conquer anything, right? And so Will had thought there had been something wrong with him. His friends had seemed to be so in love with their girlfriends.
And one day it made Will finally snap – and in that moment he didn’t even recognise himself.
“You’re ruining everything – and for what? So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?”
He regretted his words immediately. He shouldn’t have called Eleven stupid, but a part of him, deep inside, truly despised the fact that someone else, a girl, had taken his place in Mike’s life. And when Mike told him, “El’s not stupid! It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”, it finally hit him like an avalanche.
Mike’s words echoed over and over in his head, and Will just stood there – he didn’t argue. He didn’t even know how. After all, it was the truth, the shameful truth, Will thought – that he didn’t like girls, not in the way he was supposed to.
His mouth opened, then closed again, like his body itself didn’t know what to do with the truth yet. Mike looked at him then, confused and frustrated and a little hurt, and Will hated himself for putting that look on his face.
That night, lying awake in the dark, Will stared at the ceiling and replayed every moment he had ever spent with Mike, and somehow it all started to make sense. He thought of the way his chest tightened when Mike smiled at him, the way he noticed Mike’s laugh, the sound of it etched somewhere deep in his bones, the way his stomach twisted with something sharp and yearning whenever Mike talked about Eleven.
The realization came quietly, terrifying in its simplicity.
Oh.
Will turned onto his side, pressing his face into his pillow, heart racing. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to him. Not with Mike.
His thoughts quickly shifted towards the dreams that he had, the dreams about Mike – ones where they almost held hands or when they read comics together, when they laughed and cried. It was funny, Will thought, how he had created an entirely different world in his head, a world where Eleven didn’t exist – a world in which it was just him and Mike, always. Forever.
And the more he thought about those dreams, the more realistic they felt. Just the fact that he still remembered all of them, as if they were his own memories, started making him analyse them. And the more he analysed them, the more something uneasy settled in his chest – dreams weren’t supposed to behave like this. They weren’t supposed to have continuity or meaning.
Why would he have the same dream for over a year? And more importantly, why would he choose to dream about a world in which he had died?
The thought sent a shiver down his spine. That version of the world never frightened him the way it should have. He knew that it was wrong – that a place where he was supposed to be dead should feel cold, or empty, or cruel. Instead, he felt excited every single time he could close his eyes and visit that world again. It felt as if that was the version where things had gone right, the way they were supposed to. Maybe Will should’ve died.
But then he remembered how miserable Mike was every time he saw him in his dreams, how every single aspect of his life seemed to depend on Will. He was only happy when Will was around, like Will was the last good thing left in that world.
That was the part Will couldn’t forgive himself for. That only in the version of the world where he had died, Mike was somehow his, and Will loved it so much – he loved that Mike would choose him over anyone else without hesitation. But that had come at a cost so steep it made Will’s chest ache to think about it. Maybe Will should’ve died, but Mike shouldn’t have had to live with it.
The thought made his throat tighten, shame curling hot and heavy in his chest. He didn’t want a world where Mike was broken just so that Will could feel whole.
Will swallowed and dragged the blanket tighter around himself, suddenly too aware of how quiet the house was.
Stop, he told himself. They’re just dreams. They’re not real.
The truth was that Mike from his dreams didn’t exist. It was just a figment of his imagination, a sick and twisted imagination. A way to escape the cruel reality – the Upside Down, and his growing feelings, feelings which had nowhere to go, because he couldn’t possibly confess them in real life. So, perhaps, the only reasonable explanation was that they manifested in his dreams.
Soon, sleep crept up on him anyway, heavy and unavoidable, pulling him under like a tide he had stopped fighting.
When his consciousness finally drifted apart – or, well, not really – he saw him again.
“You’re back,” Mike said happily, smiling from ear to ear. “Sorry, I still have some homework I need to catch up on cause I’ve been too busy working on my story for the past few days, and everything’s due tomorrow.”
Will swallowed loudly. He looked around Mike’s basement, as he had done countless times. This time, however, he paid attention.
“Are you alright?” Mike asked, frowning.
Will nodded, sending him a small smile.
“Mind if I look around?”
Mike shrugged.
“No, go ahead. I’ll finish doing math in the meantime.”
The room looked familiar, but Will couldn’t quite pinpoint whether that was because he had seen it so many times in real life or whether he had actually been there before in the dream. The posters were the same, Will noticed, even the art was the same. He still keeps my drawings, he thought, the realisation making his stomach flutter.
Everything there made sense. It looked like Mike’s basement.
Well, almost.
The blanket fort. It should’ve been there. Mike still kept it in real life because it always reminded him of how he had met Eleven. No one had used it since ‘83, but it was a nice touch, and it didn’t take up much space. It was nostalgic in a way, Will thought.
And to be honest, it made sense that the fort wasn’t there, because after all, it was a dream in which Will had died. Mike had never met Eleven. She hadn’t been rescued, and Will hadn’t been rescued, either.
It was the continuity that scared him. What was the chance that Will had dreamt the same dream over and over again, and somehow his head still had not confused the details? How many times had it been? Well, the dream, how many times? Ten? Twenty? God, he could’ve sworn it had been more, but the edges of this mind suddenly became a bit too blurry to recall.
But, after all, if this was just a dream, Will thought, the possibilities were endless, right? If it was all happening in his head – and it was, obviously, because how else would you explain it? – then nothing was stopping him from breaking the rules.
He thought he would play with his mind for a little bit.
“Have you ever thought about how your life would look now if I hadn’t died?”
“Of course. I think about it basically every day, Will” Mike turned around to look at him. He sounded sincere.
“But it’s been so long,” Will frowned. “Why do you still think about me?”
“How could I not think about you?” Mike looked surprised. “You… you were my favourite person. I mean, you still are.”
“Your favourite person?” God, how much Will wanted it to be true. “Why am I your favourite person?”
“Are you joking?”
“No, it’s a genuine question,” Will shrugged. “I mean, you have Lucas and Dustin. They’re your best friends too, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, but– It’s… It’s different with you.”
“Different with me?” Will frowned. “How?”
Mike didn’t answer.
“How is it different with me, Mike?” Will felt his voice dropping an octave lower.
He closed the space between them involuntarily.
“Well, I mean…”
Mike hesitated, eyes flicking away for just a second, like he was afraid of the words once they were said out loud. He always did this, paused right on the edge of something important, something dangerous, and Will wanted to know so badly. He wanted to push Mike into admitting whatever he was thinking.
Will waited.
The air between them felt thick, charged somehow, like the moment before a storm breaks. He could hear his own heartbeat, loud and insistent, echoing in his ears.
“Well?” Will pressed. “You can tell me. I mean, I’m dead anyway.”
That made Mike look at him again, but something in his expression shifted. He looked hurt.
“Don’t say that,” Mike said quickly.
“Why not?”
“Because you are real,” Mike replied. His voice wavered, just barely. “At least to me. This is real to me.”
Will’s breath caught.
This was where the dream was supposed to unravel, where Mike should laugh it off or change the subject, or the scene should blur and reset like it usually did.
Instead, Mike took a step closer.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” he said, quieter now. “Lucas and Dustin… they’re… they’re great. They’re my friends, obviously. But you…” He swallowed. “You were the first, Will. I still remember how we met on the swings, you know, in kindergarten… And… and we’ve always had so much in common, it felt like only you could fully understand me. So when you died, it felt like… like something went missing. Like the world kept going, but not for me. My world stopped right there and then.”
Will’s chest ached so badly it almost hurt to breathe. Was this really happening?
“Mike,” he whispered. He wanted to say something, anything, maybe just laugh it off, but the words got stuck in his throat.
Mike reached out. He stopped just short of touching Will’s sleeve.
“I never stopped talking to you,” he admitted. “I know it sounds stupid, I know I sound crazy, but sometimes I still do. When I’m alone, I tell you things I can’t tell anyone else, because I know that you get me. And I can only hope that you can somehow hear me.”
Will’s hands trembled.
This wasn’t how dreams worked.
This wasn’t supposed to progress.
“Mike,” Will said again, stepping closer without realising it. “If I hadn’t died, if I were still here, would it still be different? With me?”
Mike’s breath stuttered. “What do you mean?”
“Would I still be your favourite person?”
The lights around them flickered, the edges of the world buzzing faintly, like static crawling under Will’s skin.
“Yeah,” Mike said momentarily. “Obviously.”
“How? How is that so obvious?”
Mike’s jaw tightened.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that I would’ve figured things out sooner.”
Will felt dizzy.
“Figured what out?”
The question hung heavily between them. Mike didn’t answer right away. He inhaled, slow and unsteady, like he was bracing himself for whatever was supposed to come next. The silence stretched, taut enough to snap.
“You’re doing that thing,” Mike said finally.
“What thing?” Will asked, though his voice betrayed him. It scared even him how low, deliberate, almost daring he sounded now.
“Where you ask questions you already know the answer to.”
Will’s heart slammed against his ribs. “I want you to say it.”
Mike laughed once, breathless. “Why?”
“Because if this is a dream,” Will said, a little too quickly. “Then it doesn’t matter.”
Mike’s eyes darkened. “It does matter.”
Will stepped closer. This time, he meant to.
“You said you would’ve figured things out,” Will murmured. “I just want to know what that means.”
Mike swallowed. Will watched his throat bob, watched his hands curl into fists at his sides like he was holding himself back.
“It means,” Mike said slowly, “that I wouldn’t have wasted so much time being scared.”
“Scared of what?”
Mike’s gaze flicked to Will’s mouth before he could stop it.
Will noticed.
“Of this,” Mike whispered.
The word sent a shiver straight down Will’s spine.
“Of me?” Will asked.
“No,” Mike said immediately. “Of how much...” he trailed off.
Will’s breath came shallow now, every nerve in his body awake and screaming. “How much what?”
Mike stepped forward.
Their chests were almost touching. Will could feel the warmth of him, could smell something familiar, a scent that was so undeniably Mike.
“How much I missed you,” Mike said. “How much I–”
He stopped himself.
Will didn’t let him.
“How much you what?” he pressed, voice barely above a whisper.
Mike’s eyes searched his face, desperate and terrified, and so painfully honest it hurt to look at. “This isn’t fair,” he said. “You don’t get to do this to me.”
“You said I was your favourite person,” Will pressed further.
Mike laughed again, sharper this time. “Yeah. And that’s the problem.”
“Mike...”
Mike exhaled shakily, like something inside him finally gave up. “I think,” he said, voice breaking just a little, “that if you were still alive, I wouldn’t have been able to pretend that this thing between us….” He trailed off. “I think I would’ve ruined everything.”
Will’s hand moved before he thought better of it. He touched Mike’s wrist. The contact felt electric – wrong, and right all at once. For a second, Will forgot that it was just a dream.
“You always make it worse,” Mike said softly.
“Make what worse?”
“How much I miss you.”
Will’s chest tightened. “You don’t have to,” he said, even though part of him didn’t believe it. “It’s been two years. You’re allowed to move on.”
“No,” Mike protested quickly. “I promised you I wouldn’t forget you.”
Something in Will stilled.
“What?”
“You don’t remember?” Mike frowned. He glanced away, like he was embarrassed by the memory, then back at Will again.
“What are you talking about?” Will asked.
“The tree,” Mike said, like it was obvious. “I carved it into the tree.”
Will’s breath caught.
“You complained the whole time,” Mike went on quietly, a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. “The knife was dull, but you still helped me. You held my hand.”
The world lurched.
Wood splintering under the blade. Mike’s knuckles were white with concentration.
I will never forget u.
Will felt cold all over.
“That…” His voice came out hoarse. “That happened.”
Mike looked at him, confused now. “Yeah. Of course it did.”
Will’s heart started pounding. He hadn’t remembered it when he had woken up. The memory had been tucked away somewhere he couldn’t reach until now.
“But it was just a dream,” Will whispered.
Mike leaned closer without even realising it, drawn in like the space between them had collapsed. “A dream? Will, what are you talking about?”
Will barely heard him.
He was too aware of how close Mike was now. Of the warmth of his wrist under Will’s fingers. Of Mike’s breath, uneven and shallow, brushing against his face.
Mike noticed the shift, his eyes flicking to Will’s mouth again, for half a second too long.
“Will,” he murmured.
If Will leaned in just a little…
And if Mike moved just an inch…
The realisation hit him all at once – this moment made sense. Too much sense. Like it had been waiting for him.
Will’s fingers tightened around Mike’s wrist.
“So prove it,” he said.
Mike blinked. “Prove what?”
“That it’s not a dream,” Will replied. His voice sounded strange to his own ears – too steady, like it belonged to someone braver than him.
Mike tried to play dumb, but they both knew where this was going – and perhaps they had reached the point of no return. “What do you want me to do, Will?”
Will opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure Mike could hear it. This was stupid and reckless, and for a split moment Will thought how it could just ruin everything, ruin him – but the words were already there, pressing against his ribs, begging to be let out.
He swallowed.
“Kiss me.”
And the world went utterly still.
Mike’s eyes widened, just a fraction. “What?”
Will felt a rush of heat to his face, panic crawling up his spine. He almost took it back, nearly laughed it off, and almost said he was joking. But if he did, he knew he’d regret it forever. “It’s just a dream, come on, Will,” he thought to himself. “It’s in your head. Let yourself experience this.”
“I need to know,” he said quickly, his voice breaking embarrassingly. “I need to know how real it could feel. So if you… if you want me, too–” Oh God, what was he doing? “Just kiss me.”
Mike stared at him as if Will had just rewritten the rules of the universe.
“Will,” he said slowly, uncertain. “I don’t think–”
“Please,” Will interrupted, the word slipping out before he could stop it.
That was it.
Mike hesitated only for a second longer. Then he stepped forward, careful, like he was approaching something fragile.
The second their lips touched, Will’s whole body went rigid, shock rippling through him like a current. Mike’s mouth was warm, warmer than Will had expected, and a little rough, like he’d been chewing on his lip out of nerves. It wasn’t a kiss the way Will had imagined kisses were supposed to be. It was soft and awkward at first. Their mouths moved a bit out of rhythm, bumping more than fitting, breaths stuttering as neither of them seemed to know what to do next. But somehow they made it work.
Then, to Will’s surprise, Mike’s hand moved, uncertain, coming to rest at Will’s waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like he needed something to hold onto.
This absolutely wasn’t supposed to happen.
And for half a second, just half a second, Will wished Mike would pull him even closer. Wished the kiss would deepen, that it would turn into something predictable, something that could potentially happen in a dream of his, something that could be explained later – blamed on Will’s stupid mind, and his stupid yearning for this stupid boy. But instead, it felt so real that it knocked the breath out of him.
When Will pulled away, Mike’s face was flushed, eyes wide, lips pink and just a little swollen now. He looked stunned, like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d done. He stared at him, searching his face. “Did… did I do something wrong?”
Something in Will broke.
“This…” He shook his head, words failing him. “This isn’t real.”
Mike froze.
Then, carefully, as if he were afraid Will might disappear if he moved too quickly, Mike stepped closer again. “Will,” he said softly. “Hey. It’s okay.”
Will laughed once, sharp and breathless.
“No, it’s not.”
“It is,” Mike insisted, voice steady in a way that made Will’s chest ache. “It’s real. I meant it.”
Will looked at him, wide-eyed.
“You don’t get it,” Will whispered. “You’re not supposed to–”
Mike reached out before he could stop himself.
His hand came up to Will’s cheek, warm and sure, thumb brushing lightly under his eye. The touch was devastatingly gentle, grounding in a way nothing else had ever been. Will leaned into it without meaning to, the instinctive reaction betraying him.
“I’ve always meant it,” Mike said quietly.
The world tilted. The words hit too close, lined up too perfectly with everything Will had been trying not to believe. His throat closed, panic flaring bright and hot.
“No, I– I can’t,” Will breathed.
Before Mike could say anything else, Will turned and ran up the stairs.
“Will!”
The sound of Mike’s voice cracked behind him, distant and warped, like it was being dragged underwater. The walls blurred as Will sprinted out of the basement, his chest burning, the ground slipping under his feet.
Then he woke up.
Will jolted upright in his bed, gasping, sheets twisted around his legs, his heart racing like he’d been running for real. The room was dark and silent, the weight of the real world crashing down on him all at once.
His cheek still felt warm.
June 30, 1985
Lover’s Lake buzzed with noise, all summer and laughter and sunlight glinting off the water. Max and Eleven were already in the water, screaming and giggling as Lucas swam after them, splashing wildly just to get a reaction from them. El laughed every time he got too close, and Max dunked him under without mercy. On the shore, Dustin lay sprawled on a towel, sunglasses on his face, pretending to nap while very obviously listening to everything.
Will sat beside Mike in the sand, knees pulled up to his chest.
And Mike wouldn’t stop talking.
“She wasn’t supposed to come,” he said, nodding toward the water. “Hopper’s gonna kill me if he finds out.”
Will hummed in response.
Mike glanced at him. “But she really wanted to. And Max said she’d cover for her, so…” He shrugged, trying to sound normal. “I dunno. I think it’s fine, but is it fine really? I swear to God, Hopper can’t find out. He hates me already. And we aren’t even together anymore! I mean, not officially…”
No response.
Mike frowned slightly. He followed Will’s gaze. He stared at the lake and at his friends, trying to process the normalcy of it. It was a perfect summer afternoon, too perfect even – he and his friends all happy. Yet, somehow, it rubbed Will the wrong way.
“Hey,” Mike said, quieter now. “You okay?”
Will startled. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”
Mike tilted his head. “You sure?”
Will nodded too fast. The movement made his head spin uncomfortably. It was probably the heat. He clenched his hands in the sand, grounding himself.
Mike watched him for a moment longer, as if he tried to see through him, but nothing came to his mind.
“Okay, so…” He hesitated. “I’ve been thinking, you know, because El’s been… different lately. I mean, I know she pretty much dumped me, and I kind of don’t blame her, but I’ve been thinking about this one thing she told me…” He stopped, squinting at Will. “Actually, never mind.”
Will’s stomach dropped. “What?”
Mike shook his head. “Nothing. It’s dumb.”
“You don’t usually stop talking halfway through things,” Will said. His voice came out flatter than he meant it.
Mike huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, well. Neither do you. And you’ve been doing that a lot.”
Will looked away again, toward the lake. El caught Max’s arm and pulled her under, both of them resurfacing in a fit of laughter.
And Mike followed his line of sight, then leaned back on his hands. “You haven’t been sleeping well,” he said, and Will wasn’t really sure whether it was a question or a statement.
“I know you. I can tell,” Mike added quickly, clearly hesitating if he should continue with what came to his mind. “It’s not… It’s not, you know? The Mind Flayer.”
“No,” Will shook his head. “I’m fine, really.”
Mike’s jaw tightened just a little. “You always say that.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Mike shifted closer without thinking, their shoulders brushing. The contact sent a jolt through Will’s chest, and suddenly all he could think about was warmth, and lips, and hands.
Will pulled away, and Mike noticed.
“Okay,” Mike said slowly. “That… that was new.”
Will swallowed. “Sorry.”
Mike turned fully toward him now, concern written all over his face. “Did I do something?”
No.
Yes.
Will shook his head again, staring hard at the sand. His heart was racing, the memory of the kiss replaying uninvited. He couldn’t get it out of his head.
He stood up so fast his vision blurred. “I need– I’m gonna– I have to go.”
“Will, wait–”
But Will was already moving, heart pounding. Mike watched him go, confusion and worry etched deep into his face.
“Will!”
Mike was on his feet before he fully realised it, kicking sand behind him as he hurried after him. “Hey, c’mon, wait.”
Will didn’t stop.
Panic spiked in Mike’s chest. He reached out without thinking, fingers closing around Will’s wrist.
Will froze.
The world seemed to stop around them. The lake’s noise dulled, the laughter faded into something distant and hollow. Will stood there, back to Mike, breath shallow, pulse jumping wildly under Mike’s grip.
Mike loosened his hold immediately, like he was afraid he’d crossed another line. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I just– don’t run off like that.”
Will didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. His chest felt too tight, the contact sending another electric jolt straight through him, lighting up every memory he was trying to bury. His hand felt the same.
“Talk to me,” Mike said softly, and then Will slowly turned around. “What did I do?”
“Don’t worry, Mike,” Will said quietly, forcing himself to hold eye contact with him. “It’s not about you, I promise.”
And technically, it wasn’t a lie, because it wasn’t this Mike that kissed him, on the lips, intentionally and meaningfully, hell, it wasn’t even real after all.
From the water, Eleven looked back toward the shore.
And for the first time, she noticed that Mike wasn’t watching her anymore. His eyes were on Will.