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Summary
In the midst of the apocalypse, things are tense between Will and Mike. The worst part is Will doesn’t even know why. It just feels like Mike stopped caring about him. That is until a future version of Mike turns up on their doorstep and turns Will’s whole world upside down.
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"I just need you to know," Will says quietly, and he makes himself hold Mike's gaze, "that if something happens - if I hurt you, or anyone else - it's not because I wanted to. I would never want to hurt you, Mike. Never."
The words hang between them, loaded with more meaning than Will intended.
There's a pause where all Will can hear is their breathing echoing against the storage closet's walls. The hum is more distant now, buzzing in the back of Will's mind, but the uneven inhales coming from in front of him sound louder. The breath tickling his nose (because they really are that close) feels realer.
Mike's eyes are still darting across Will's face, and Will can feel him inhale sharply. "Will, why are you so convinced you're going to hurt someone? What did Vecna show you?"
Everything, Will thinks. He showed me everything. Showed me killing you over and over until I couldn't see anything else.
Somewhere between slaying interdimensional eldritch horrors, exploding an entire dimension, and risking their lives countless times, Mike and Will find each other.
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Summary
There’s something wrong with Will.
It started three weeks ago, almost four. Will had woken from some sort of nightmare and, instead of seeking comfort in Mike the way he usually would, he’d rolled out a sleeping bag from the closet and chosen to sleep on the floor.
No one believes Mike, except for Joyce. But even she doesn’t understand the full extent to which something is wrong with Will.
Mike understands, though. Mike has been paying attention.
Series
- Part 1 of eye of the beholder
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Well, by the force of will, my lungs are filled, and so I breathe by SilverShadow1
Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
20 Dec 2025
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“Is he barking up the wrong tree?”
“I … What? Will and I are best friends.”
“Another fact. You’re good at those. Let’s aim for a feeling, next.”OR
Mike is trying his best to be quiet while Will takes a nap.
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Summary
“Just saying, if you’re taking another hit, you should share it with me,” Mike says, and Will slowly tilts his head, drinking in every word. “It just makes sense. Like, mathematically.”
Will’s reddened eyes narrow, bewildered. “Mathematically?”
“If there’s two hits left, we’d each only get one,” Mike explains. “But if we shotgunned, we’d both get two.” God, this is the best idea he’s had in ages. He should’ve stolen Will’s weed, like, months ago. “That’s like, bang for your buck. This is simple math, Will Byers. Keep up.”
In which it’s well past midnight in New York, Will can’t sleep, and Mike feels like they barely know each other anymore.
So, they get a little high. Mike is very normal about all of it.