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“Your time is almost at an end.”
The words come warped and twisted from Will’s mouth, his usually soft tones gradually being replaced with a hideously low drawl. Mike was frozen. They all were. Standing in a semi-circle around the boy were Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, Max and Mike.
The second they’d crossed the border into Hawkins Will’s hand had shot to the back of his neck. He’d tried to conceal the movement, but Mike had noticed anyway.
“Will?” He had asked, panic evident in his voice. Will had only to look at him and Mike had known something was wrong.
Not long after they’d caught up with everyone, Dustin had explained quickly what was going on. Mike’s stomach filled with dread at the thought of those- those things coming back, whatever form they may take on. Will confessed to having heard the telltale clock chime more than once since they’d arrived, and Jonathan drove them straight to Max’s at Dustin’s suggestion. After all, she’d been through it first-hand. Argyle - whose pizza truck was currently parked where Jonathan had left it in the trailer park - had stayed behind, still not being fully on board with the whole shadow dimension thing.
Will’s eyes were all whites, the only traces of brown having retreated behind his eyelids. His head was thrown back, mouth hanging open slightly, and his arms were outstretched on either side of him. Max almost puked at the sight, knowing this was much how she had once looked that day at the graveyard.
“It’s time. Time to end it.”
Mike stepped forwards, snapping out of his daze.
“Will!” He urged, shaking the boy’s shoulders. No reaction.
“And we are going to end you,”
“Will. Will come back.” Mike was sobbing now.
Jonathon was frantically pacing, muttering things to Nancy and the others as they tried to formulate some sort of plan. Surely, there was something they could do. They’d dealt with this before. Surely.
“And then, we are going to end Will,” The creature spat the last word like venom, the hiss falling from Will’s open mouth unnaturally. Mike turned to Jonathon, desperate.
“We can burn it out.” He said, nodding to himself. “Yeah, just like last time. We’ll burn it out of him and he’ll get better. I know he will.”
Nancy and Jonathon shared a look. They must have communicated something, because suddenly they were running about Max’s trailer, shouting for people to find ‘anything which gives out heat’.
Steve flung open cupboard doors, rooting through them to eventually pull out a small radiator with a plug running from one end. Max ran to switch the little heating she had to full. Mike continued to talk to Will, murmuring gentle reassurances.
“It’s gonna be alright, Will. I’m gonna fix this. You’ll be back to normal in no time.”
Mike slid his hand into the brunette’s. It was alarmingly cold.
“And then, we are going to end everyone,”
Tears were cascading freely down Mike’s cheeks. He released Will’s icy hand from his grip and began collecting any warm items he could. He stripped down to his shirt and trousers, dumping his flannel on Max’s couch.
When he returned, Will was floating.
Frantically, Mike plugged in the heaters he’d acquired. The room was now sweltering. Will - or Vecna - was unaffected. Mike felt his hand once again, now a foot higher than it had been the last time. Still cold.
“He must have some kind of defence mechanism,” Nancy commented.
“Right. So heat is a no.” Steve replied.
“Your biggest weakness,” The creature continued, “Is your compassion. You will never hurt the boy, and therefore he will forever be my spy. There’s no escaping it.”
“His favourite song! Mike, what’s his favourite song?” Max asked suddenly.
“What?” Mike responded. “Are you seriously asking that right now?”
“No, I mean it. When I was… uh… cursed, they played my favourite song and it brought me back. It saved me,”
Mike stared at her blankly.
“Okay, uh,” He stuttered, desperately wracking his mind for the answer.
“Oh! Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash,”
Max ran into her bedroom, tossing cassette tapes this way and that until she eventually found the object of her search. She quickly slotted it into her Walkman and fast-forwarded the Clash album until she landed on the right song. She rushed back into the living room, greeted by panicked expressions. Max wasted no time in slipping the headphones over Will’s ears, Steve lifting her up in order for her to reach the levitating boy’s head. Quickly, she pressed play and cranked the volume to full before slipping the Walkman into Will’s back pocket so Steve could let her down. They waited.
The muffled tune filled the daunting silence, the upbeat song seeming out of place considering their current situation. Something between a screech and a cough erupted suddenly from Will’s throat, the sound drowning out the soft melody and their collective breathing. It repeated again and again, echoing around the small room. For a few hopeful seconds, Mike thought it was working.
Vecna was laughing.
A strangled noise came from Jonathon’s throat, and as Mike turned he caught sight of the fresh tears cascading down his cheeks. Max untangled the Walkman from around Will’s ears, throwing it to the couch.
“What do you want?” Nancy asked, voice low yet measured.
“I want the girl. The one you call Eleven,” Vecna responded.
“What do you want her for-” Mike began, but he was cut off.
“Bring her to me by midnight tonight, or you will all suffer,”
Mike opened his mouth to argue, but a firm grip on his arm pulled him backwards. Max.
She led him to the back garden, the others following. There was a brief pause, no one having the words to break it until Mike finally spoke up.
“What’re we gonna do?” He asked, voice cracking with unshed tears.
“I don’t know,” Nancy replied, staring at the ground. “For once, I really don’t know,”
Silence.
“Will- Vecna- said that the only way to defeat him was to- to-” Max began.
“Kill him. To kill Will,” Steve finished. Mike looked at him, eyes wide.
“What?” He spat, disbelief clear on his face. “What? You can’t be- You can’t seriously be suggesting we- we murder an innocent kid. We murder Will.”
Steve shook his head.
“Mike-”
“Steve!” Jonathan interrupted him. “That’s my brother! How could you even think to-”
“We wouldn’t be killing Will,” Max said softly, and then repeated louder until all focus was on her. “We’d be killing it. Vecna. You’ve seen it, Mike. There’s none of him left to save. He’s been acting off ever since he came back, and he said it himself- he’s heard the clock. The only way we know of to free someone from Vecna’s curse is by playing their favourite song but this, this is different. He’s been possessed. He’s spying. If we let him continue past today he’ll surely work out where we are, and then we’re all fucked. Besides, what’s the alternative? We give him El and she dies instead, making Vecna stronger than ever? Even if we wanted to, we wouldn’t know where to begin looking for her, let alone getting her back here for midnight,”
Mike stared at her in shock, mouth hanging open.
“You really mean it,” He stuttered, tears brimming in his eyes. Dread seeped into his stomach like a disease, polluting his insides and causing him to gulp for air.
“No. No.” Jonathan was shaking his head frantically, Nancy’s arms firmly around his middle. Steve was shaking. Max’s face was the most sombre Mike had ever seen it. It chilled him to the bone.
“I’m going to talk to him. I can bring him back.” Mike said decidedly, disappearing back into the trailer once more and ignoring Nancy’s calls.
“Will,’ He began, walking towards the boy in the centre of the room.
“There is no Will anymore. The thing snarled. Mike ignored it.
“Will, please come back. We need you. I need you.”
No response.
“You can finally show me that painting you spent forever working on,” He was sobbing now, words coming out fast and desperate. “And we can go to Rink-O-Mania together, just you and me. Best friends.”
Still nothing. Mike reached up and tugged on his arm.
“We can play D&D every day. You can be Will the Wise! The campaigns are never the same without you anyway.” Mike stared through cloudy eyes. Will was unmoving. Distantly, he heard Jonathan’s protests, followed by a scream of despair. He looked out the window in time to watch as Jonathon fled into the woods surrounding the trailer, Nancy saying something to Steve before handing him her gun and following after.
Mike flung himself at the shorter boy, wrapping his arms around his middle - as far as he could reach from his position on the ground. His tears left damp patches on Will’s flannel, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t hugged Will enough in the time after they’d got him back from the upside down, and now seemed the best time to make up for that. Even if the other’s body was cold and unmoving against him.
“I’m so sorry,” He whispered.
Max and Steve entered the trailer, the gun pointed at the floor in Steve’s grip.
“Mike,” He spoke softly, as if Mike was made of porcelain which could break at any moment. It already had. The second Mike had come to terms with the fact that there really was no other way, he’d shattered into a million irreparable pieces. Eventually, Steve dropped the gun onto a nearby chair and instead pried Mike away from the shell that had once been Will.
“Nancy said,” Max paused mid-sentence, trying to find the words. “Nancy said we should do it before Jonathan gets back.” Mike nodded slowly. He looked at the clock mounted on the wall beside him. 11:37. Nearly midnight.
“Could I have a moment with him? Alone?” Mike asked, and Steve agreed. Taking Max’s hand, they made their way back out of the trailer.
Mike took a deep breath before speaking again.
“Give him back, and I’ll bring you Eleven,” He told the creature.
“The Will you knew is gone,” It replied.
“I don’t care. Anything is better than this.”
Will was unmoving for a moment, and Mike thought he had been ignored. Then suddenly Will was falling, and Mike instantly moved forwards to catch him, the brunette limp in his arms.
“Will? Will, is that you?” Mike urged, that sliver of hope returning as Will managed to hold his own weight. His irises were visible once more, Mike not releasing how much he’d missed being able to fall into the chocolate brown which circled his pupils. However they were cold, glassy, no life evident behind them. Mike shook his head, untangling himself from the husk of a person to gently lead him into a separate room.
If the others were watching through the window, they didn’t notice when Mike grabbed Nancy’s gun from the chair on the way.
Once they were inside what Mike supposed was Max’s bedroom, he swung the door shut behind them. The gun was concealed behind his back, not that Will would’ve made any sort of move had he seen it. The tears were non-stop now, carving channels down Mike’s cheeks. His whole body shook with the weight of what he was about to do. He knew it had to be him. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself, surely, but at least it would be a burden he and he only would have to bear. He let go of Will’s hand, turning to face the blank expression once more. “I love you,” He whispered. And he kissed him.
Salty tears mingled with their lips as Mike kissed his best friend. He tried desperately to channel everything into that first and last kiss, all the longing looks from afar as Will stared down at whatever drawing he was working on, all the secret pining he’d managed to project onto Eleven when he realised Will could never like him back, all the happiness that consumed him the moment Will threw his head back in a laugh, all the small touches which lingered just a moment too long. All the crushing pain at having to lose his best friend, his first love.
Will’s lips didn’t move. Mike lifted a shaking hand behind Will’s head. He tried to focus only on how Will’s lips felt against his own, even if it would nowhere near compare to a proper kiss. He’d dreamt about this moment more times than he could count, but never, never like this. He wished he could take it all back. He wished he’d never ran into Eleven that time in the rain. He wished he’d made a move while there was still time. He wished he’d never been born.
Mike pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out through the stagnant air around them, and Mike gasped, pulling away. He dropped the gun, staring in horror at Will who seemed unchanged. That was, until, he began to fall backwards. Mike sprung to action, supporting the boy and laying him gently down on the ground with his head in Mike’s lap. When he brought his hands away they were stained red. Mike sobbed relentlessly as he stared down at Will, He was still breathing, just about.
“So sorry,” He repeated, cradling Will’s head and rocking them back and forth.“I’m so sorry,”
Suddenly, something shifted behind Will’s eyes.
“M…Mike?” Will’s voice came hoarse. Will’s voice.
“Will?” Mike choked, ceasing his movements to stare down at the boy in shock. He coughed, spurting blood.
“Oh my… HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! MAX? STEVE?” Mike screamed, but the others were out of earshot. He stared back down in panic.
“Oh my god, Will, Will I’m so-”
“I love you… too,” He spluttered through mouthfuls of blood.
“Will, Will no, don’t go now. I’ll get help, just hang on.” Mike made to leave, but Will spoke again.
“No,” He gasped. Mike didn’t know what to do.
“Mike,” He said again, speaking the name like it contained the whole world. “I forgive… you,”
Followed by one last bloody cough.
And Mike’s world died in his arms.