Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bike tires hummed softly against the cracked road as Will rode home, the cool summer night breeze nipping at his arms. His backpack bounced against his back, his legs moving faster on the peddles, just wanting to get home as quickly as possible. He wanted to lay down in bed and sleep the night away, he was over today.

Will let out a long sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding in, he wasn’t usually like this, all mopey and what not. But, all he’d wanted to do was play DnD, was that really such a hassle? Then again, he couldn’t exactly talk, he didn’t have a girlfriend like all of his friends did now (even if he was still skeptical about this mysterious Susie). He didn’t understand the ins and outs of a relationship, or why it meant his friend’s suddenly just didn’t have the time or desire to play a simple game like he did. Maybe he should get a girlfriend, then maybe he’d understand, right?

But, he had no desire for one, didn’t think it was for him at all, he liked nerdy things like drawing, DnD, playing video games, all stuff most girls didn’t enjoy as much as he did. Sure Max liked video games and skating and El occasionally sat in on their DnD campaigns and showed some semblance of interest, but those were only some things. It wasn’t like Mike, who shared almost every single one of Will’s interest. Mike, who was just as obsessed with DnD and video games as he was, who supported his hobby of drawing like the world would end if Will ever called one of his drawings mediocre. Mike who.. never mind, best he didn’t think of that now.

Maybe they’d finally play tomorrow. With Dustin back, he could be the catalyst that finally convinced Lucas and Mike to take a small little break from their love lives to play. It could even convince Mike to stop leaving so early to go do.. whatever it is he does with Eleven, he truly does wonder why this “curfew” of hers is so early, and why-

Will’s thoughts were suddenly cut off by the roar of an engine in the distance. A second later, light flooded his vision, the sudden illumination partially blinding him for a moment as he attempted to regain his bearings. He flinched as the engine roared again somehow louder than the previous time, his bike wobbled beneath him, as he tried incredibly hard to keep his balance and not fall face first onto the road below. Where did that-?

Oh, he realized. Headlights.

He whipped his head back to look over his shoulder, just in time to see a car barreling down the road straight toward him. His heart lurched. Will jerked the handlebars and swerved off the pavement, the tires skidding through gravel before he toppled sideways.

He hit the ground hard. Hard enough that for a second, he thought he’d broken something. The sharp crack he’d heard a moment earlier could’ve been his bike… or his bones, he wasn’t sure which (nor which outcome was worse for him). For a moment, Will just laid there, staring at the gravel and dirt surrounding his crumpled body, said body still buzzing with shock and the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

Eventually, he moved his arms, his hands to ground and pushed himself up with a shaky breath. A quiet grunt escaped him as he struggled to his feet, legs unsteady beneath him. His face tightened when a sharp sting flared along his arm. Yeah, that crack was definitely him.

He took a second to steady himself, his brain screaming to not hurl his lunch and make the situation worse. Eventually taking a deep breath to calm himself, awkwardly brushing dirt from his clothes with one hand as he glanced around. The air smelled faintly of blood and disease, even more reason to throw up, but he refrained. He crashed right in front of the old steelworks. Weird. He almost forgot the place even existed.

He turned his head to look down the road, the car hadn’t stopped, didn’t even slow down. It had continued right past him and disappeared into the night, leaving only silence and the sound of his own uneven breathing. Do people just not watch the road when they drive anymore or something? Clearly whoever that was had somewhere to go, unbelievable. Will leans down, hands reaching out to grab his bike, which unlike him seemed to be unscathed besides a few scratches. His face scrunched at the stinging pains return, as he lifts his bike up and starts to get back on.

Will suddenly shudders as he feels it, the tingling at the back of his neck, the “feeling.’’ It was stronger this time, almost as if… it was right next to him. His breath hitches as he lifts his hand up to touch his neck, he was shaking, his body trembling in fear. It couldn’t be, that’s impossible, El closed the gate, this has to be just nerves, yeah nerves, it wasn’t actually Him.. was it?

Will jumped as a deafening bang erupted from the building, echoing through the surrounding trees. The sound was so sharp it made his ears ring.

He didn’t need to hear it twice.

Panic surged through him as he scrambled for his bike, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. He just needed to get out of there, something was about to happen and he didn’t want to be around when it did.

But when was life ever on Will’s side?

Before he could pedal away, something yanked him backward with brutal force. He hit the ground, his bike clattering beside him as he squirmed, trying to free himself. It felt like an invisible hand had gripped the back of his shirt and pulled him backwards, now it was holding him in place no matter how hard he fought. The tears came freely now, hot and uncontrollable, blurring his vision as pain flared through his body.

“Please, please, please no” He quietly begged as he continued trying to thrash and pull himself away.

It didn’t matter.

The force pulled again, harder, dragging him across the gravel toward the opening to the old building. Will’s eyes went wide with terror. He shook his head and squeezed them shut, shaking, he kept whispering pleas under his breath, praying for it to stop. But the pull didn’t let up. It only dragged him further into the dark.

—————————————————————
—————

Joyce stirred awake to the quiet hum of the house and the pale morning light spilling through the curtains. She moved through her routine: coffee, uniform, keys on the counter. Everything was just as it always was. But as she glanced at the clock, “9:34” a small frown creased her face. Will wasn’t up yet. That was weird, he was usually got up around the time she did, to eat breakfast
and say good mornings before biking off to the Wheelers house for the day.

“Will?” she called down the hall, her voice echoing faintly. No answer.

“Will, honey? You awake?” Still nothing. The silence made her chest tighten. She walked over and knocked gently before pushing the door open.

“William Byers,” she said in a scolding tone, half teasing, half anxious.

He was lying on his side, back toward her, blanket pulled up high.

“Oh,” she breathed, the tension easing a little.

“You’re not usually the type to sleep in, honey.” A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she stepped into the room, her smile dropping suddenly as she felt a sudden chill crawl down her spine, the air heavy and still, like the room itself was holding its breath.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then his voice came. Soft, flat, almost distant.
“I don’t feel so good today, Mom. Think I’m just gonna stay home.”

Joyce hesitated, watching him closely. Something about the way he said it didn’t sound right, not the usual tone he had when he was sick, this was too calm.

“You sure, baby? You don’t sound sick. You want me to check your-”

“No,” he said quickly. His head shifting slightly, yet not fully turning around. “I’ll be fine. Just tired.” He mumbled.

Joyce lingered for a moment longer, torn between her instincts and his request. Then she sighed softly.

“Alright. There’s soup in the fridge if you get hungry, okay? And call me if you need anything.”

“Okay,” he said again, voice a little firmer.

She smiled faintly. “Love you, honey.”

“Love you too,” a beat too late.

Joyce closed the door, shaking off the strange feeling crawling up her spine. Just another morning, she told herself. Nothing to worry about.

—————————————————————
—————

Will pushed himself out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom, his body heavy and sluggish. He went about business as usual, shifting to wash his hands as he looked into the mirror, the sight staring back at him made his stomach twist. He looked awful: pale skin slick with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead, dark circles shadowing his eyes, his eyes themselves ringed with something darker, he didn’t like it one bit.

“William” a voice called in the back of his mind. “Remember.”

Before he could even process it, a sharp knock echoed from the front door, jolting him out of the daze. He took a shuddering breath and wiped his face with the back of his hand, great, the last thing he needed while he looked like this was visitors.

He stepped out of the bathroom, his reflection lingered in his thoughts as he shuffled through the hallway, every movement felt heavy, like he had fifty pound weights attached to his ankles. When he finally opened the door, Mike and Lucas were standing there already in the middle of their own conversation which Will caught the ending of.

“—I’m telling you, it’s fine,” Mike was saying, his voice low but defensive.

Lucas huffed. “Yeah, whatever dude”

Mike shot him a look, but before he could fire back, both boys noticed Will standing in the doorway. Lucas’s eyes went wide the instant he saw him, while Mike just froze looking like he was one step away from hauling Will straight to the hospital.

“Dude… you ok?” Mike asked, his voice dropping to a softer tone as he stepped closer. Lucas raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Will opened his mouth, he was going to say no, god, no, he needed help. He could feel it. it was Him. He was back. That cold, crawling presence festering inside him again. Please, Mike, help me.

But before the words could leave his lips, everything went numb.

It hit him all at once, that horrible, familiar paralysis. His body wasn’t his anymore. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. He tried, god, he really did try, forcing every ounce of strength he had into just saying something, anything! But, nothing came out, He had learned, He knew all his methods. His limbs refused to listen. His chest felt tight, locked from the inside.

He knew this feeling. He prayed he’d never feel it again.

He wasn’t in control anymore.
He was.

——————————————————————————

Will forced a weak smile, holding up his hands a little to stop him. “I’m fine,” he said quickly. “Really. I just didn’t sleep much last night.”

Lucas frowned. “Didn’t sleep? Man, you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“I’m fine,” Will repeated, a little sharper. He took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hands, his arm jerking slightly as he did, which Mike immediately took note of. He seemingly tried to play it off, but his hands were still trembling as he brought them back down. “It’s just hot, that’s all. I think I caught something.”

Mike wasn’t buying it, pushing his way into the house and bringing his hands to hold Wills shoulders. He studied his face. The sweat on his temple, the somehow paler than usual skin, the dark ring around his eyes that definitely hadn’t been there before.

“You don’t look fine,” he said quietly. “You look-” he stopped himself, like saying it out loud would make it worse. “Maybe you should sit down or something.”

Will shook his head. “I’m okay, Mike. Seriously.” He tried to laugh, but it turned into a cough halfway through. He brought his hands up to Mikes chest, to gently push him away, Mike stumbled back a bit before regaining his footing.

“Well, we were gonna ask why you weren’t answering your walkie, but I think we understand now” Lucas awkwardly chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Mike shot Lucas a look, the kind that said, “Not helping.”

Mike sighed, then turned back to look at Will. “Look, man, maybe you should just sit down for a bit. I can stay, to make sure you’re okay.”

Will shook his head almost immediately. “No, it’s fine. You don’t have to do that.”

“Will—” Mike tried.

“I’m serious, Mike.” His tone came out sharper, and for a second, his expression flickered panic? Then guilt? Then back to a neutral one. “I just need to rest. That’s all.”

Mike frowned, taking a hesitant step closer to Will, he was starting to get really worried, why was he being so defensive? Did Mike do something? “You can barely stand. What if you faint or-”

“I said I’m fine!” Will snapped, louder this time. His voice echoed through the hallway before he looked down at his feet, breathing hard. Mikes eyes widened, what in the actual hell was that? Wills never yelled like that before, especially not at Mike, except for.. yeah.

“Sorry,” he mumbled quickly, eyes darting away, trying to look anywhere and at anything but Mike. “I just… I just need to be alone for a bit, okay?”

The air hung heavy for a moment. Lucas shifted awkwardly beside Mike, glancing between them, he narrowed his eyes for a moment, looking at Mikes worried expression and Wills solemn one, before clearing his throat.

“Dude,” He said quietly, “maybe he just needs some space. We can check on him later.”

Mike isn’t convinced. His eyes lingered on Will, like come on, he was pale, sweating, clearly not okay, but something in Will’s face made him stop. It wasn’t just exhaustion. There was something else there. Something distant.

“Alright,” Mike said finally, voice low. “But I’m coming back later, okay? You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

Will forced a faint, strained smile. “Sure.”

Mike hesitated for another beat before stepping away. Lucas followed, shooting Will one last concerned glance before the door shut behind them.

——————————————————————————

Will stood there, his hand still on the doorknob, he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Then, he spoke.

“Too hot. Need to get colder.”

Chapter Text

The mall was alive, too alive for Mikes taste. Music thumped from somewhere overhead, lights flashed from store windows, and the air smelled rancid, a mix of popcorn, sweat and cheap perfume. Normally, Mike wouldn’t have cared. He would still be upset about it mind you, ever the complainer, but he wouldn’t have minded as much.

It just didn’t feel the same. Not without Will to bounce off his snarky remarks.

He tried to focus on what Lucas was saying, something about what to get El that would knock her off her feet, but the words barely registered. Right, he forgot about the entire reason they even came in the first place. What would he get El? Should he get something for Will too while he’s here? Maybe one of those stupid “Get Well Soon” balloons? No that was totally unnecessary. Mike kept catching himself glancing at the crowd, half expecting to see Will wandering in late, tired but flashing Mike a reassuring smile. Expected him to walk over and tell him everything was okay, he miraculously got better and was ready to help Mike with his dating escapades. But, he didn’t. Of course he didn’t, dumbass, was he stupid?

“Dude, are you even listening?” Lucas asked, bumping his shoulder against Mike’s.

Mike blinked. “What? Yeah. Sorry. Just, thinking.”

Lucas sighed, rolling his eyes. “You’re thinking about El again, huh? Trust me dude once we find the perfect item, she’ll be-”

Mike cuts him off. “No. Not El.”

That caught Lucas off guard, he raised an eyebrow in thought. “Then who-”

“Will,” Mike finished. “He looked really bad this morning. Like, really bad.”

Lucas frowned, the teasing gone from his face. “Yeah, he did look kind of off. But maybe he just caught the flu or something?”

Mike shook his head, chewing the inside of his cheek. “It wasn’t just that. There was something… wrong. He didn’t sound like himself.”

“Ok, now I just think you’re losing it” Lucas scoffed.

Of course he did, he didn’t know Will like Mike did. Mike could read that boy in ways most people couldn’t even dream of. He could tell when Will was upset just by how often he did or didn’t talk when they chatted on their walkies. Or when he was nervous by the way Will spoke quieter and got more reserved in his mannerisms. Even the tiniest change, a pause, a crack in his voice, a different rhythm when he talked, Mike always picked up on it. Was it weird that he could tell Will’s mood just from his tone of voice? Sure. Did he care? Hell no.

“So… what are you thinking of getting for El? I can’t do everything for you, dude.” Lucas finally sighed, clearly trying to break the weird silence that had settled between them as they continued walking through the mall, Mike bumped past a girl, muttering a quick apology before turning back to Lucas.

“I don’t know” He muttered. “You said something pretty and shiny? So, something like that I guess.”

He tried to sound casual, like he was actually thinking about the gift for El instead of what was up with Will, frankly he didn’t even really care about getting back with Eleven at the moment, it was on the lower end of his priorities. Still, he shouldn’t be worrying this much, Will said he was sick, that was it. People get sick all the time. It was fine, everything was going to be fine. Plus, Mike would swing by before dinner anyway to ensure of it. He shoved his hands into his pockets, forcing himself to focus on which store looked like it had an appealing gift for Eleven, and the fact he had barely any money to his name for said gift. Crap.

———————————————————————

What a tremendous waste of time, Mike thought to himself, as him and Lucas stepped back into the stiff summer afternoon air. They’d found nothing. Absolutely nothing. A full lap around the mall for zero ideas and even less progress. (Not like he had the money for anything they did see, but still.) He let out a loud groan of annoyance as him and Lucas stepped toward the bike racks.

“Dude, chill” Lucas said, rolling his eyes. “So we didn’t find anything today. Big deal. We’ll find something next time.”

“Yeah, see, the problem is I currently lack funds, Lucas!” Mike snapped, gesturing wildly. “As in money! Something I do not have!”

Lucas shrugged, yanking his bike free from the rack. “Then we make money. Get a job or something.”

Mike scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. Who would even hire us? Why can’t I just mow old man Henry’s lawn or something?”

Lucas continued talking after that, but Mike had already tuned him out, his mind drifting sharply to the one thing that had been clawing at him all afternoon.

Will.

Right. He should probably get back there. Check on him. Make sure he wasn’t…
god, Mike didn’t even know what.

His thoughts about Will were suddenly cut off by a voice, a very familiar voice that snapped him back to reality.

“Isn’t this a nice surprise?”
Max.

And.. wait, El?!

The two girls casually strolled up to them, ice cream in hand, looking like they’d had a much better time at Starcourt than he had. Mike was so overwhelmed by everything swirling in his head that he dropped his bike without even realizing it, not caring about the loud clatter it made against the sidewalk.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, staring at Eleven in disbelief.

El wasn’t supposed to be out.
Especially not here at the mall.
With this many people around.

They both knew the rules, the rules Hopper had practically engraved into him so hard they were burned into his memory. And now El was just.. standing there.

“Shopping” she says, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world, like this whole situation is a quiz she already knows every answer to.

Max steps forward with a proud, almost smug little grin (Mike wanted to wipe it off her face at that very moment), gesturing to El’s new jumpsuit, black with a bright chaotic abstract pattern across it.
“This is her new style,” she says. “What do you think?”

And, okay… he actually does like it. It suits El. It looks good on her. Really good, if he’s being honest-

Wait.
No.
That’s not the point.

“What’s wrong with you?” he snaps at Max, anger hitting before he can stop it. God, that smug little smirk on her face, it made something in him itch. The way she was acting, like none of the rules mattered, like this was just a fun little game they were playing, it rubbed him completely the wrong way. “You know she’s not allowed to be here” Mike adds, even more upset now.

Max rolls her eyes. “What is she, your little pet?”

“Yeah” El echoes softly, “am I your pet?”

She looks right at him when she says it, actually stares. Mike feels the floor tilt beneath him. Why wasn’t she backing him up? She knows the rules just as well as he does. Did Max get into her head? Twist it somehow? What the hell was even happening?!?

“What? No!” Mike blurts out, feeling cornered, like the two of them were tag-teaming him. He shoots a desperate look at Lucas, who only stands there frozen, wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights.

Mike groans under his breath and turns back to the girls, if Will were here, he’d back him up.

Wait.

Shit. Will!

Mike forced himself to shake off his nerves, as he bent down to grab his bike. His words spilled out fast and messy, tripping over each other in a way that made all three kids stare at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Uh… listen.. I know you’re upset with me, El. Me too. But… uh, Will! Will is actually the sick one! I know I said my nana, but I, uh.. actually misspoke!”

El and Max shared a confused look before turning their eyes back on him. Mike had no clue what was running through their heads and honestly, he didn’t want to know.

“Will’s sick?” Max asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah! We passed by his house and he did not look great,” Lucas chimed in, finally swooping in with the backup Mike desperately needed.

Mike practically tripped over his own foot as he scrambled onto his bike, still rambling like momentum alone could save him.

“So yeah, that’s why we were here, you know… getting him some medicine and all that jazz.”

El and Max didn’t budge. They just stared at him. Max with her arms crossed and one eyebrow arched in pure judgment, El with that unreadably intense look that always made Mike feel like he was under a microscope.

“Ok…” Max finally said.

“But, you lie” El added, almost a whisper, stepping closer. The softness of her voice only made Mike flinch harder. Why couldn’t she just let this go? Why today?

“No! I just.. misspoke! Totally on me!” Mike insisted, forcing out an awkward grin.

El didn’t blink. She just kept glaring at him, silent and sharp and absolutely done with him.

“Ok bye!” Mike blurted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He shot off on his bike like the ground behind him had caught fire.

Max watched him go, lips pressed tight, then slowly turned toward Lucas with a sigh that said boys are exhausting.

“Should we…?”

“We should probably go too…” Lucas finished, shoulders dropping as he agreed.

———————————————————————

Will awoke with a violent jolt, dragging in a sharp breath. He sat upright in bed with a soft gasp, chest heaving, eyes darting around his room wildly. His vision was limited, he rubbed his eyes, letting them adjust slowly to the dark. Every inch of him was damp, sweat dripping down his temples, his hair plastered to his forehead, his T-shirt glued uncomfortably to his skin.

He clawed at the fabric, tugging it away from his chest, but the air felt thick and burning and wrong. He’d already cranked the AC so low that the vents hissed like they were struggling. A tiny, rational part of him thought about the electric bill and how it would affect mom. But another part, a deeper, colder part, shoved that thought aside. It needs to be cold.

He swallowed hard. His stomach twisted. He felt nauseous, like something inside him was crawling up the back of his throat. He wanted to throw up.

“William.”

The voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It echoed from somewhere behind his thoughts, slipping into his mind like oil. His skin prickled. He was just taunting him at this point.

“Just… shut up already,” he muttered, but it came out strained, like he wasn’t sure the words were his. His jaw felt too tight. His tongue felt heavy.

He pushed himself out of bed and staggered into the hallway, legs moving stiffly, as if they had decided where he was going before he had. It was worse than last November, way worse, was it the heat? His fingertips brushed the wall to steady himself, though he couldn’t tell whether the dizziness was actually from the heat or from Him.

He headed for the bathroom, all he could think was that he needed water. Cold water. All over him. Now.

He didn’t know if that desire was his, or His.

He cupped water in his hands and splashed it over his face, the shock of cold making him shiver so hard his shoulders jerked. For a moment, the chill soothed him, if only for a second. He gripped the edge of the sink, breathing unevenly, then the nausea surged up too fast to fight. His knees buckled on their own, dropping him to the tile before he even made a conscious choice to move. He leaned over the toilet and gagged violently, the sound echoing harshly in the cramped bathroom as he emptied his stomach. When it was over, he sagged against the side of the tub, exhausted. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, tasting bitterness. His hands were shaking.

He hates this.

He groaned softly when the pounding started at the front door. Loud, insistent, rattling through the quiet house like it was aimed straight at his skull. The sound made his stomach twist again. He gripped the tub tightly with both hands and slowly pushed himself upright, his legs unsteady beneath him, each movement feeling delayed, as he reached out to press his palm against the wall. His body was obeying someone else first and him second. He stumbled out of the bathroom, blinking through the dizziness as he made his way down the hall, the knocking continuing in sharp, impatient bursts that felt almost cruel against his senses.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, He thought. The words weren’t his. Will yanked the door open with more force than he meant to, the sudden burst of movement making his vision smear at the edges. Mike stood there on the porch, fist still raised mid-knock, frozen like he’d been caught doing something wrong. His eyes went wide the second he saw Will’s face. Will glared at him, sharp, exhausted. Not his own self. The anger wasn’t his own. It was being “borrowed.”

“What?” Will snapped before he could stop himself, his voice rough and too cold, makes sense, it did belong to the stranger in his skin.

———————————————————————

Mike jumped at the sudden outburst, shoulders jolting up before he tried to play it off like it was nothing. He cleared his throat, but his eyes couldn’t stop scanning Will, his flushed cheeks, the sweat still clinging to his hairline, the slight wobble in his stance. God, Will looked awful. He hated seeing him like this.

But Mike forced a smile anyway, because that was easier than panicking on the doorstep.

“Told you you weren’t getting out of it” he said, trying to lighten the mood. He stepped past Will into the Byers home without need for an invitation and freezes. Literally. The cold air hit him instantly, enough to make him shiver violently. “Jesus, it’s freezing, dude!”

Behind him, Will’s eyes widened, just a flicker, too quick and too sharp, before settling back into something neutral.

“It was hot” He replied quietly.

But the tone wasn’t right. Too flat. Mike felt his stomach twist, maybe it was just the illness. He spun around at the sound of footsteps and nearly jumped again. Lucas, Max, and El all filed into the house behind him. Lucas bent over with his hands braced on his knees, trying to catch his breath, while the girls were slightly flushed, but other than that seemed relatively okay. Mike hadn’t even noticed they were following him, probably because his brain had been too busy spiraling about Will.

“Jesus…” He barely heard Max mutter under her breath, seemingly spotting Will and his sickly appearance, the dark rings around his eyes, the sweat, the way he was standing like his bones ached. Yeah. No shit. Anyone with eyes could clearly see Will needed help.

Will slowly turned toward them, his expression unreadable in the dim lighting of the Byers living room. Mike watched him with slight caution, watched the way his eyes narrowed slightly, landing on El for a half second too long. It wasn’t the look of someone confused or embarrassed. It was the look of someone.. studying? evaluating? He didn’t know. Then, just as quickly, his expression changed again. That blank, exhausted calm settled over him once more.

Will turned back to Mike, voice low, steady.

“I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are!” Mike snapped too loud, the words cutting out of him before he could stop them. Will flinched. A tiny movement, but enough to punch every ounce of anger right out of Mike’s chest. Great. Fucking fantastic, Wheeler. You fucked up again. You’re great at doing that, huh? Mike’s face fell instantly, his voice softening so fast it was almost the same breath.

“No, just-” Mike tried again, much gentler this time, stepping a little closer. “You clearly need help, dude.” Out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw Max raise an eyebrow at Lucas, to which he shrugged, leaning in to whisper something Mike couldn’t catch. Why were they even here again?

Will’s jaw twitched, a tiny, sharp movement, before he finally nodded. Wordlessly, he turned and walked toward the couch to sit.

Mike took it as a win.

“Okay. Good. Couch. That’s… good,” he muttered to himself, already kicking into caretaker mode. He spun around and practically sprinted through the house, rifling through cabinets for medicine, stumbling over himself as he grabbed tissues, a thermometer, anything remotely helpful. He shoved a can of soup into a pot, turned the stove on too high, turned it down again, cursed under his breath, then paced because waiting thirty seconds was suddenly unbearable. He didn’t know what Will needed. He didn’t know what was actually wrong with him. But doing something was better than standing still.

“You need help with anything?” Lucas asked as he walked over, hands shoved into his pockets like he wasn’t totally sure if he should be offering or staying out of the way. Mike blinked, suddenly remembering, right, there were other people here. Other people watching him run around like a lunatic. He glanced back toward the living room. El and Max had settled on either side of Will, each trying in their own awkward way to make him comfortable. Max was adjusting the blanket around his shoulders, muttering something about goosebumps. El sat stiffly but attentively, watching his face, almost questioning.

Mike felt a little swell of warmth in his chest at the sight of Will bundled in a blanket, but the feeling vanished when he actually looked at his face. His expression was blank, his eyes unfocused and locked on the opposite wall like whatever he was staring at was miles away. Or didn’t exist at all. Mike’s stomach twisted.

“No, it’s fine” he muttered, voice dipping as he turned back to the stove. “I’ve got it.”

———————————————————————

Will awoke in the dead of night with a sharp, shallow breath. His eyes flew open like someone had yanked him out of a nightmare he didn’t remember. A dull throb pulsed behind his forehead, and he pressed the heel of his hand there, groaning softly as the pain rolled through him in sick, hot waves. The room was dark, too dark, and his vision swam as he blinked again and again, trying to force it to steady. He pushed himself up, the blanket slipping off his shoulders, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. For a moment, his gaze drifted down to the sleeping bag on the floor. Mike, curled up inside it, breathing softly. Completely unaware.

Will stepped over him with a shaky, clumsy precision that didn’t feel like his own. His body moved before his mind could fully process it. He walked out of the room. Down the hall. Past the kitchen. And then-

The house was behind him.
Trees surrounded him.
Cold air pressed against his skin.

He was in the woods.

Still in his pajamas.
His white socks soaked, brown, and gritty with mud.

Will didn’t remember leaving the house.
He didn’t remember deciding to walk.
He didn’t remember anything.

By the time awareness snapped back into him, he blinked and there was a rock in his hand.

And a kid, (Tommy Daniel’s from his algebra class last year he thinks?) crumpling in front of him.

A horrible, choked sound clawed up Will’s throat. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t want to do that. He tried to drop the rock, tried to step back, tried to scream no. But his body didn’t listen. His fingers stayed locked around the stone. His chest stayed still. His voice stayed trapped.

He wasn’t in control.

He was.

A whisper crawled through the back of his mind.

“William…”

Please stop. Please let me go. Please.

The voice slithered deeper.

“Remember. WE have an army to build.”

Chapter Text

Mike awoke with a sharp inhale, blinking hard as a spike of pain shot straight through his skull. His head pounded, his ears were ringing, and his back felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to it. God. He groaned and pushed himself upright, rubbing at his temples as the room slowly came into focus.

 

Right. Will’s house.

 

He let out a slow breath, the fog in his brain clearing. He glanced up at Will’s bed. The boy was fast asleep, lying on his side with the blanket tucked up to his chest, looking peaceful in a way that made Mike’s tight, anxious chest ease a little. For the first time since yesterday, Will didn’t look feverish or shaky. He just looked, asleep. Mike’s lips tugged into a small, relieved smile. Careful not to make any noise, he pushed himself to his feet, stretching until his spine cracked in three unpleasant spots. He winced, quietly cursing, then tiptoed out of the room and headed toward the bathroom, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to make himself look a little less wrecked.

 

Mike walked back into the hallway, still rubbing sleep from his eyes as he tried to gain his bearings. His head was pounding less now, thankfully, though the house was quieter than he expected for morning at the Byers’. He was halfway through stretching his arms over his head when he jumped and stopped in his tracks, eyes widening. Will was standing at the very end of the hallway, having just walked out of his room. He was looking at him with this flat, unreadable expression that made Mike blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t still half asleep.

 

“Hey” Mike mumbled groggily, a little awkwardly because he hadn’t expected him to be up yet. He took a few steps forward, trying to shake off the chill of surprise. “Morning.”

 

Will didn’t react much, just kept staring at him in that blank, tired way that reminded Mike how sick he still was. His posture looked worn down, shoulders a little slumped, arms hanging loosely at his sides, like it had taken all his energy just to get out of bed and stand there. Mike felt something tug in his chest, that familiar worry he always got whenever Will pushed himself too hard. The house still felt strangely empty, no sign of Mrs. Byers or Jonathan and Mike made a mental note to ask where everyone had gone later when he got that chance, but right now the only thing that mattered was the exhausted boy in front of him.

 

“How you feeling?” Mike asked, softer this time, trying not to crowd him, but still making it clear he was there if Will needed anything. He helped take care of him before, brought him soup, walked him home, stayed with him when he was too sick for school. But this was the first time he’s been here alone, the first time the responsibility felt like it rested solely on him. And seeing Will like this, pale and unsteady, made Mike’s stomach twist with a mix of protectiveness and uncertainty.

 

“Fine.”

 

The word came out of Will in this barely there whisper, soft enough that Mike almost wasn’t sure he heard it right. It didn’t sound like Will, not the Will he knew, too thin, too distant, like it had been dragged up from somewhere deep instead of spoken normally. The way Will said it made something run straight down Mike’s spine. Not fear, just worry, sharp and immediate. Mike swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of the quiet around them. Will’s voice usually carried this gentle warmth, this tremble of emotion underneath everything he said, but now it was flat, even emptier than the look on his face. Mike couldn’t place it, couldn’t name it, but he knew something was off. More off than just fever or exhaustion. He forced a grin anyway, because he didn’t know what else to do without making things even more uncomfortable for both of them.

 

“Uh… breakfast?” he offered, voice cracking near the end, goddamnit Mike. He cleared his throat and raised his eyebrow teasingly. “I can make something. Y’know. Toast. Eggs. Cereal if I’m feeling brave.” His face lit up immediately when Will let out a soft snort, quiet, tired, but sounded real. Or he thought it did anyways.

 

Either way, it was the best sound he’d heard all day.

 

———————————————————————

 

El walked a few steps behind Max, her shoes crunching softly in the gravel as they walked down the Byers’ driveway. She kept glancing up at the house, then down at her shoes, then back at the house again, brow furrowed like she was thinking about something.

 

“He was… different” she murmured finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

 

Max let out a breath through her nose, shrugging one shoulder. “Yeah, well. When people feel like crap, they act like crap. Fevers make you.. spacey.” She tried to explain, she chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “Still… I don’t know. Will looked worse than I expected.”

 

El nodded slightly in agreement, seemed they were both on the same page, at least Max thought so. They reached the porch, and Max tapped Lucas on the arm.

 

“Okay, serious question” she said, lowering her voice, she’d been wanting to ask this since yesterday, when Mike went batshit crazy trying to take care of Will. “Is Mike always this… intense?“

 

Lucas snorted. “Pretty much, yeah.”

 

Max blinked at him, her expression tightening, she honestly couldn’t tell if Lucas was joking or not. Were they talking about the same Mike Wheeler? The same Mike who, when she first met him, was basically the biggest douchebag on the planet to her? The Mike who didn’t want her joining their party just.. because? The Mike who used eye rolls and snarky remarks at everything and anything like it was his second language?

 

“You’re serious?” she deadpanned, staring at Lucas as if waiting for him to crack a smile.

 

“Mmhmm.” Lucas knocked on the door. “If Will’s involved? Mike goes full panic mode. Been doing it since before I even knew them.”

 

“Oh.” Max murmured, she glanced at El, who looked just as confused as she did. Max shrugged, the two of them shifting their attention to the front door just as it swung open.

 

Mike stood there, the same Mike who had voluntarily stayed overnight to take care of Will, because he’s just such a “good guy.” He was wearing a hoodie, so clearly the house was still a freezer. His hair stuck up in every direction, so definitely just woke up. And judging by his wide, panicked eyes and the shrill fire alarm blaring, accompanied by the unmistakable smell of burning, he was also failing at making breakfast.

 

Yep. There he was.

That was the Mike she knew.

 

“Goddamn it, Wheeler.” Max groaned in annoyance, already shoving past him before he could explain himself to go put out whatever mess he had created.

 

———————————————————————

 

Will had been drifting in and out of consciousness since he woke up. One moment he was waking up in his bed, staring up at the ceiling above him. The next, he was curled on the couch with a blanket around his shoulders, watching Mike clatter around the kitchen in a hopeless attempt to make eggs. Then, another, he was surrounded by everyone: Max, Lucas, El, Mike. All of them eating actual edible eggs (definitely Max’s doing) and toast while something somewhat interesting played on the TV. Will stared down at the plate resting on his lap. The scrambled eggs looked soft enough, harmless enough, but his fork moved without him really deciding to move it. He definitely wasn’t doing that. He felt too nauseous to move anything on purpose. His head throbbed with a dull, hot pressure, his jaw ached like he’d been clenching it for hours, and even opening his mouth felt impossible. He couldn’t call out, couldn’t ask for help.

 

He was just, stuck.

 

All he could do was think. Thinking was one of few things he could do without much resistance, mostly because he couldn’t do anything with it, though it was more of a curse than a blessing. It looped over everything he’d done the previous night, every awful, helpless moment. Dragging that poor kid’s limp body through the woods. His sock covered feet dragging through dirt and leaves. Bringing him back to the steel works like the obedient little puppet he was. Kneeling beside him when he started to come to, whispering soft reassurance Will didn’t mean.

 

“Shh… don’t struggle. It’ll all be over soon.”

 

Then the thing had emerged and the tendril shot forward, latching onto the boy’s face just like it once had Will. He remembered staring, frozen. Wanting to pull it off, wanting to scream, wanting to help. No one deserved that fate. No one. But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything except watch it happen, like some form of torture. He tried. God, he tried.

 

But He was stronger.

 

And Will was trapped inside himself, forced to witness every second.

 

Will was suddenly pulled out of his memories when he felt a hand settle on his shoulder. His whole body jolted before he could stop it. He turned quickly and found Mike kneeling beside him, watching him with that worried little smile he’d been wearing all morning.

 

“Feeling any better?” Mike asked gently.

 

God, he’s annoying.

 

No he isn’t.

 

Will swallowed hard, his face forced to stay neutral. He gave a small shrug.

“A little.”

 

Mike nodded, fingers tightening just a little on Will’s shoulder like he was afraid to let go. For a second, they stared at each other, Mikes brow scrunched as he looked over Wills face, eventually.

 

“Just… let me know if you need anything, okay?” Mike said. His voice was soft, careful, like it always was.

 

Will didn’t meet his eyes. He gave the smallest shrug, barely more than a twitch, as if even that tiny movement took effort, which it did.

 

“K.” he mumbled under his breath.

 

Mike let go of his shoulder and shifted back toward the TV, trying to act normal. Will tried to mimic that, eyes drifting back to the screen, but then he felt it. A prickle on the side of his face. The sense of being watched. He turned his head.

 

Eleven.

 

She was sitting close, too close, her back straight and her hands folded in her lap. The second Will’s eyes met hers, she flinched and snapped her gaze away, pretending to focus on the TV. But Will didn’t look away. He couldn’t. He clearly didn’t like her. Will could feel it, the pressure in his brain twisting. Will’s face tightened, jaw flexing as a rush of memories flooded him all at once, sharp and sudden: the gate closing, the tunnels, the demodogs’ screeches echoing in pitch black caverns, fires burning, the Mind Flayer. He saw it all again, vividly, but the memories were different. At the center of all of it, was Eleven.

 

“William…” The voice curled through his mind. “Do you see now?”

 

“You.” He hissed, “Are going to help me with her.”

 

Will’s stomach dropped.

 

Will turned his head back toward the TV, acting as though nothing was wrong. Whatever He had planned, whatever he was going to do to Eleven, it wasn’t going to be good.

 

Will knew that much.

 

———————————————————————

 

“I’m bored.” Lucas groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch with a dramatic thud. Mike didn’t blame him, they’d been sitting around all day, half watching some random TV rerun while Will drifted in and out of sleep. Every time he awoke,Mike would gently coarse him back to sleep, which he didn’t protest thankfully, at least he looked a little better, not as pale or sweating as much.

 

Max shot Lucas an unamused look. “Then what do you suggest we do?” she asked, arms crossing as she raised an eyebrow at him.

 

Lucas shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Literally anything that isn’t sitting here.”

 

Mike thought for a moment, trying to come up with something they could all do that didn’t involve roasting alive in the summer heat. The arcade crossed his mind, then he remembered they’d literally gone not even a week ago. Starcourt? Absolutely not. He was still recovering from yesterday’s disaster. He opened his mouth to suggest something, but Max beat him to it.

 

“Pool?”

 

She said casually. Lucas perked up at the suggestion, eyebrows raised with interest. Mike blinked, his eyes drifted automatically toward Will. He swallowed.

 

“I mean… that’s… an idea” he said slowly, trying not to make it painfully obvious that his brain was spiraling again.

 

Max scoffed. “It’s that or keep sitting here watching Wheel of Fortune reruns.”

 

Lucas looked up at him and pointed at her. “She’s got a point.”

 

Mike didn’t.. disagree. He just wasn’t totally sure how Will would handle, all that. Not in the condition he was in. Not with how weird he’d been acting. As if on cue, Will shifted awake beside him, eyes dull, expression unreadable. Mike’s stomach twisted.

 

“Morning” Mike said with an awkward little chuckle, offering a small, hopeful smile as Will turned to look at him.

 

“Hi.”

 

Mike’s smile faded at the simple, hollow greeting, but he cleared his throat anyway and forced himself to keep going.

 

“Uh.. so, we were thinking about going to the pool,” he said, already hearing how awkward he sounded, but still kept talking. “Would you wanna come? I mean, you can say no, obviously. We’ll be fine. Or, well, they’ll be fine, because I should probably stay with you, and they can just-”

 

El shot him a sharp shut up, look over Will’s shoulder.

 

Mike clamped his mouth shut and coughed into his hand. “Yeah. So. That.”

 

Will just stared at him for a long moment, expression blank and unreadable, like he was scanning through choices, before he slowly shook his head.

 

Lucas groaned. “Oh, come on! It’ll be fun, Will. A little fresh air never killed anybody.” He turned around and patted Wills knee, with his most convincing grin. “It’ll probably even help you feel better.”

 

Will turned his head and fixed Lucas with a look, flat and cold. Lucas instantly backed down, hands up.

 

“Or not. It’s fine, whatever you want.” he muttered.

 

Mike sighed, rubbing his forehead.

 

Max stood abruptly, arms crossing as she looked down at Will like she was calling him out on his own nonsense.

 

“No. Will. You definitely need some fresh air” she said firmly. “It’s not healthy being cooped up in here all day. Especially with Mike.”

 

“Okay, that was completely unnecessary.” he grumbled.

 

Max ignored him.

 

“Plus, you look like you’re getting a lot better” she added, softening just a little. “So… c’mon. Five minutes of sun won’t kill you.” She smiled at him, encouraging, patient, nothing like the way she talked to Mike or Lucas. He guesses Will had that effect on people, definitely had it on him.

 

Will turned to stare at her in turn, the same blank, probing look he’d used on Lucas.

But Max didn’t budge. She kept her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, completely unmoved by whatever quiet threat sat behind his eyes.

 

And that was that.

 

The room seemed to settle around the moment, like everyone understood Max had just won, whether Will liked it or not. Mike exhaled, Lucas stared up at Max in awe, and El watched Will with the kind of wary concern she never said out loud. Will didn’t argue. He didn’t say yes, either. He just looked away, jaw tight, shoulders stiff, then turned to Mike and stood.

 

Mike immediately followed suit, breaking into a quick grin like the decision had been his idea all along.

 

“Uh, meet there at four?” he offered, glancing around the room.

 

Everyone was in agreement.

 

———————————————————————

 

You know, it wasn’t that bad, or at least that’s what Will would’ve said if he wasn’t currently sweating bullets and stumbling beside Mike with every attempt at a step. His vision buzzed at the edges, the sun felt like it was peeling his skull open, and he was pretty sure the sidewalk had started to sway. Mike kept close without making a big deal of it, thank goodness, because right now he was an overheated mess that could barely keep himself upright. The one time he actually wished He had taken over to say ”absolutely not” to going to the pool, but no, of course not, He loved seeing Will suffer. No convenient blackout, no lifeline, just him melting alive in the sun while everyone insisted fresh air would “help.”

 

“William, we have an army to build.”

 

God, shut up. Wills jaw clenched when he tried to scream, (oh, so now He wants to take full control) the words grinding through his head like sandpaper. He was so sick of His voice, His recycled lines, His constant dripping commentary. It never stopped. It never even paused. He apparently loved hearing Himself talk, rambling on and on while Will tried not to pass out on the sidewalk.

 

“William this, William that.”

He was so done with it, done with the heat, done with his own body turning against him. Every step made the sidewalk tilt, every breath made the nausea crawl higher in his throat. He honestly wasn’t sure he’d even make it inside the stupid community pool before he threw up all over Mike’s stupid flop flops.

 

God, when did he get so negative?

 

They squeezed through the crowd at the pool gates, and Will immediately regretted every single life choice that had led him here, not that he even had the choice to begin with. The heat, the noise, the chlorine, he wanted to die. Again. They claimed a spot in the far corner, towels and bags dropped wherever. Will didn’t bother pretending he was fine, he just folded himself under an umbrella, knees pulled tight to his chest, forehead pressed into them as a low groan slipped out. Max and Eleven were already making a beeline for the water, of course they were. Eleven definitely shouldn’t be here, but at this point he thinks everyone was so caught up with wanting to have some fun they just didn’t care. He just curled in tighter, wishing the ground would swallow him before the nausea did.

 

Mike settled beside him without a word, dropping down so close their knees brushed. Lucas looked like he shot him a questioning look, silently asking ”should I stay?” to which Mike shook his head, something firm and unspoken in his gesture. Lucas shrugged and took off toward the pool to join the girls. Will stayed exactly where he was, hunched under the umbrella, feeling every awful inch of himself. He didn’t need a mirror to know he looked sick again. He could feel the sweat running down the back of his neck, the way the world kept tilting a little too far to either side, the way his chest felt hollow and hot all at once. He was maybe two minutes from passing out, which would honestly be a mercy at this point. Mike let out a quiet sigh and reached over, ruffling his hair like Will was some overheated puppy.

 

Not. Helping. Michael.

 

“You wanna try swimming? Cool off a bit?” Mike asked. Will lifted his head from his knees, squinting at him through the pounding in his skull. Mike looked stupidly charming in his swim trunks, sunlit, smug, and wearing that confident grin that always seemed a little too sure of itself. And God help him, it did make something in Will mellow out. He didn’t bother answering. Just shrugged, a small grunt slipping out. Apparently that was enough for Mike. Mike stood and gently took his wrist, tugging him up with a kind of careful insistence that Will was too tired to fight. The moment they stepped out from under the umbrella, the heat hit him like a truck, it was suffocating. Will almost hissed, actually stepping back for a second.

 

Mike didn’t let go.

 

As soon as they reached the water’s edge and stepped in, the relief hit. Cool. Quiet. Weightless. Will’s shoulders dropped an inch, the nausea easing just enough for him to breathe again. Mike glanced at him with that soft, hopeful look. For the first time all day, Will didn’t feel like he was about to throw up.

 

Will let himself drift backward until the water held him, cool and steady, cradling every overheated inch of his skin. His eyes slipped shut. For the first time since morning, the nausea quieted to a dull hum. He drew in a shaky breath and let it out slow, sinking just enough that the water lapped at his ears. He dipped his head under. The world went muffled, soft, blue, silent. When he surfaced again, his hair plastered to his forehead, a low sigh escaped him before he could stop it. Bliss. Actual, real bliss. He could’ve melted into the pool tiles right then. Mike floated next to him, staying close without hovering, arms stretched out as he treaded lazily. He looked almost relieved to see Will relaxing even a little. A tiny, crooked smile tugged at his mouth, the kind he got only when he thought Will wasn’t looking.

 

“I’ll leave you to it.” Mike murmured, voice nearly swallowed by the chaos surrounding them. “Just call out if you need anything.”

 

He gave Will’s arm the faintest brush, barely pressure at all, before kicking off and swimming toward Lucas, Max, and El. They were already in the middle of their pool activities. Will stayed where he was, eyes half closed, letting the cool water hold him. And for a rare moment, he felt at peace. But of course the peace didn’t last. It never lasted anymore.

 

One moment Will was floating in the water, weightless and numb, and the next, darkness. A hard, sudden blackout took hold over him. When he came to, everything was wrong. The air was colder, echoing, tiled. Chlorine still clung to his skin, but the sun was gone. He blinked hard, vision swimming into half focus, and realized he was in the boys’ locker room. Damp floors. Rows of metal benches. The hollow drip of a shower someone forgot to shut off. And he wasn’t alone. He was following someone. A kid from school, he recognized the back of his head, the messy brown curls, the faded swim trunks, just couldn’t remember his name. The kid had a towel slung over his shoulder, walking like he had no idea a threat trailed behind him. Why would he suspect such a thing after all? No one else was around. No lifeguards, no background chatter, nothing but Will’s own unsteady breaths and the faint squeak of the boy’s wet footsteps on tile. Stop stop stop stop, please, please stop. Will fought to slow himself, to turn, to call out, anything. He clawed at his own mind, trying to seize back control, to force even a twitch of his hand. His throat strained around a trapped sound, but nothing came out. Will’s vision flickered and he blacked out again.

 

The next time he surfaced, he was outside. The heat slammed into him like a wall once more, the sun was too bright. His lungs seized. His hands were locked around the arms of the boy, dragging him along the side of the building, feet scraping the concrete. The boy’s head lolled forward, blood matted at his hairline, his body limp and heavy. Will wanted to throw up. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run until his legs gave out. Please, someone see him. Anyone. A parent. A lifeguard. A random jogger. Someone to yell, to intervene, to call the police, to do something! He didn’t care. Punish him, arrest him, scream at him, just stop Him. But the corner was empty. The fence rattled in the breeze. Sunlight burned his vision white. And he kept dragging the boy, powerless to stop himself, powerless to do anything but watch.

 

———————————————————————

 

Mike sighed as he hauled himself out of the pool beside Eleven, water streaming off him as he caught his breath. He hadn’t had a single uninterrupted second with her all day, every part of his brain had been locked on Will, checking on him, hovering, borderline spiraling, so now felt like his first real chance to talk.

 

“El! Uh… how… do you do?” he blurted. Nice, real smooth Wheeler.

 

Eleven looked up at him with a small, polite smile as she wrapped herself in a towel.

“Fine.”

 

“Awesome, yeah.” Mike nodded too fast, trying to seem casual and failing miserably. “Listen, about yesterday with the mall thing, I didn’t mean to-“

 

“I know” she cut him off without hesitation, her voice soft but sharp at the edges. “You lie.”

 

Mike’s soul left his body. He stood there dripping like an idiot, towel hanging uselessly from one hand, wishing he could rewind about twenty four hours and fix every single choice that led to this moment.

 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Mike blurted, rubbing the back of his neck as the pool water dripped off him in uneven trails. “Look, Hopper… he was being crazy and trying to stop me from seeing you, and I just…” He trailed off, his mind frying out.

 

“And the whole thing with Will, it just kind of, you know?” he added hopelessly.

 

El stared at him, her eyebrows drawing together in a small puzzled frown. Okay she didn’t know. Cool. He hates it, when he can’t talk to her properly. El kept looking at him, that small crease between her brows deepening. She seemed to weigh something in her mind before saying, quietly but clearly,

 

“It is… okay.”

 

Mike exhaled hard, shoulders dropping. Thank God. Disaster avoided. His girlfriend didn’t hate him. Good. He had one thing going for him at least. But then El added, with the same strange calmness.

 

“But… I think we need a break.” Each word careful, deliberate, like she’d practiced them in her head. Mike’s heart dropped.

 

“What?!?”

 

El didn’t flinch. She just shook her head a little. “Max says… you don’t listen. You are too up your own… ass.”

 

She paused, meeting his eyes.

“She is not… wrong.”

 

Mike stared at her, speechless, he was going to strangle Max one of these days.

 

“El, come on! Don’t listen to Max. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about!” Mike blurted, desperation in his voice. Eleven only gave a small shrug and lowered herself onto her towel, knees pulled up, water dripping off her hair.

 

“I think… she is right.”

 

Mike let out a long, miserable groan. Great. Now he officially has nothing going for him. Max and Lucas walked up just then, towels over their shoulders, still dripping water. Mike had to physically restrain himself from shooting Max a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. The four of them sat there in a weird, heavy silence, sun beating down, kids and adults alike screaming all across the pool. Mike kept glancing back at the locker rooms, stomach twisting with that old familiar worry. Finally, Max broke the silence.

 

“So…” she said, drying her hair with her towel. “anyone else feel like Will’s ‘flu’ feels… off?”

 

“Yes.” Eleven replied immediately, almost before Max even finished talking, like she’d been waiting for the question. “It feels… familiar. The way he… is.”

 

Mike blinked at her, eyebrows knitting together. Familiar? What the hell was she talking about? Sure Will has been very spacey the past day, his eyes felt empty, barely any soul behind them, he was snappier than usual, more reserved, he’d been thriving in the.. cold. Oh. Oh shit.

 

“Well, it could just be a bad case of the flu” Lucas offered with a shrug. “Sometimes people get really sick.”

 

Max shook her head, lowering her voice. “I don’t know… the way he’s acting doesn’t seem like normal flu symptoms.”

 

“The Mind Flayer.” Mike said it before he could stop himself, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Think about it! Will hasn’t been himself the past day. He’s been spacey, angrier, sweating like crazy, needing to be in the cold. This is just like last year when it possessed him.”

 

Everyone looked up and stared at him, pure confusion, pure shock, like he’d suddenly switched languages.

 

“What? No. That’s impossible.” Lucas said, his voice tight as he shook his head. “El closed the gate.”

 

“But what if it found another way in?” Mike pushed. “What if someone else opened a gate. Or some piece of it was left behind in Hawkins somehow?”

 

Eleven slowly nodded, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t say it outright, but Mike could tell she agreed. Whatever was happening with Will, it had to do with the Upside Down.

 

“Okay, so if this really is the Mind Flayer” Max said suddenly, cutting in before anyone else could speak. “how do we prove it? I mean, we can’t just walk up to Will and ask if he’s possessed again. If we’re wrong, he’ll think we’re completely nuts. And if we’re right…”

 

“He won’t tell us” Lucas finished quietly, staring at the ground.

 

Mike inhaled slowly, his stomach knotting as a terrible idea formed, one he hated even thinking about. He swallowed. “I… I have an idea. But I don’t like it.”

Chapter Text

The road kept stretching out ahead of them, the evening sun smearing across the windshield. Jonathan kept his eyes fixed forward, still replaying the close call in his head while Nancy talked quietly beside him. Tom had every right to fire them for going against orders. The only reason they’d walked out of there still employed was because, apparently, he “liked” them.

 

Thin ice. Yeah. Jonathan got it the first time.

 

He was still frustrated with Nancy, not furious, just wrung out, tired, but at least they hadn’t lost their jobs.

 

“Nancy, just… calm down for a second.” He said softly as he pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. He got out of the car, hoping breathing actual air might clear his head.

 

She followed right behind him, voice smaller than before. “How can I? I had no idea Mrs. Driscoll was schizophrenic. I feel awful.” She brought a hand to her mouth, like saying it out loud made it worse.

 

“It’s okay, you had no way of knowing.” he murmured, trying to soothe her nerves, he didn’t want her worrying about this whole thing anymore. Though his voice was still tight around the edges. He headed up the porch and pushed open the door, then immediately flinched as a blast of freezing air hit him in the face.

 

“Jesus, who the hell-?”

 

Nancy stepped in after him, hugging her arms. “It’s summer. Maybe it… got too hot?” she said, but even she didn’t sound convinced. Jonathan moved straight to the thermostat, brow furrowing deeper with every step. He stared at the glowing numbers.

 

“Forty nine degrees” he muttered to himself. “Why would anyone lower it this much?”

 

The house felt wrong, not just cold, but empty, like the air itself was thinner. A faint draft slipped past his neck, and for a second the silence pressed in too hard.

 

He took a sharp breath and called out.

 

“Mom? Will?”

 

Nothing. The house was empty.

 

Jonathan exhaled shakily, rubbing his arms as the air warmed just a fraction. Still too cold. Way too cold. He looked around the living room, blankets and jackets piled on the couch, a couple of crushed Coke cans, and dirty dishes left on the coffee table. So, their house was definitely the hangout spot today. But none of that explained the thermostat. Nancy had wandered further inside, walking down the hall.

 

“Oh, I think Mike stayed over.” she said, nudging open the Wills bedroom door. Jonathan stepped beside Nancy, towards Will’s room. He pushed the door the rest of the way open and took a glance inside. The room seemed relatively normal, the bed was a mess, sheets twisted like someone had kicked them off in a rush. On the floor, a familiar blue sleeping bag, the one he knew Will always liked reserving for Mike specifically when he slept over, it was unzipped and left open. Checked out.

 

Jonathan turned slowly, eyes sweeping the room again. Drawers half open. T-shirts and pajama pants scattered like someone had pulled things out in a hurry. A towel crumpled near the foot of the bed. He crouched, picked up something from the floor, and let out a small, thoughtful hum.

 

“Pool.” he murmured, holding up the pair of swim trunks in his hand.

 

Nancy relaxed a little at that, shoulders dropping as she stepped into the room. “Okay. At least we know where they are,” she said softly, offering a small shrug, like she wanted it to be reassuring, even if she didn’t totally feel reassured herself. Jonathan lowered the trunks, but he didn’t quite shake the unease. The cold. The mess. The horrible feeling crawling up his spine.

 

“We should go pick them up. So they don’t have to walk home.” Jonathan said quickly, trying to make it sound casual, like it was just a responsible older sibling thing and not because something about the freezing house was still twisting wrong in his chest. Nancy watched him for a moment, head tilted, like she was weighing whether to call him on it. But she didn’t. She just nodded.

 

“Yeah. That’s… smart.”

 

He grabbed his keys from the hook, tried to steady the little spike of nerves buzzing under his ribs, and held the door open for her. A minute later they were back in the car, tires crunching over the gravel as they pulled away from the house, the sun setting in the distance the soft, pinkish orange hue shining through the windshield, a sharp contrast to the icy home they’d left behind.

 

———————————————————————

 

Lucas grunted as he wrestled a loose pipe out from behind the cluttered table in the maintenance shed. Dust puffed into the air as he pried open an old toolbox, digging around until he came up with a half used roll of duct tape. Max slipped in behind him, reaching out and holding up a length of chain she’d somehow found in two seconds flat, she was just quick like that.

 

“Do you really think it’s the Mind Flayer?” she asked, inspecting the chain.

 

Lucas only shrugged and met her eyes.

“I have no idea. But, Mike and El seemed pretty convinced.”

 

They stepped out of the shed and into the thick, golden heat of late afternoon, they head back toward the locker rooms where Mike and Eleven waited. The sun was already starting to sink behind the trees, throwing long orange stripes across the pavement. Families were funneling out through the front gate in a steady stream, towels over shoulders, kids whining about wanting five more minutes. Lucas and Max slipped through the crowd without slowing, weaving past sunburned parents and a group of lifeguards clocking out, their hands full of the equipment they’d collected. They spotted Mike and Eleven pacing near the far wall, Mike restless, running his hands through his wet hair, Eleven sitting perfectly still on the bench like she was ready for anything. Lucas and Max jogged the last few steps.

 

“Got the stuff,” Lucas panted, shoving his collection of random hardware forward.

 

Mike took it all, pipe, tape, and chain. He crouched to add it to the small mound at their feet, swallowing hard before he stood again.

 

“Okay.” he said, voice tight. “So… can someone go find Will?”

 

Lucas stared at him. Max lifted an eyebrow. Eleven’s expression flattened. Mike groaned under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face.

 

“Fine. I’ll go.” he muttered, already turning away and jogging back toward the pool entrance, shoulders tense, like he was gearing up for whatever he would find.

 

“You think he’ll be okay?” Max asked, dropping to her knees beside the pile of scavenged junk. She started sorting through it with quick, restless hands, testing the chain’s weight, peeling a strip of duct tape free with her teeth. The sunset light hit her hair in sharp red streaks. She looked fricken majestic. Lucas hesitated before joining her, crouching down and picking up the metal pipe. He turned it over in his hands, tapping the end against his palm like he was still trying to convince himself this was all totally unnecessary. After a long moment, he exhaled and nodded, slowly, like he wasn’t totally sold on his own answer.

 

“Yeah.” he said quietly. “He’ll be fine.”

 

———————————————————————

 

Mike felt like his shirt was tightening around his ribs. He tugged at the fabric, trying to make more room for air that just wasn’t coming. The whole walk along the poolside felt like a living hell, people brushing past him on their way to the gate, chattering, laughing, blocking his view every time he thought he saw even a hint of movement that could be Will. His pulse thudded in his neck. Great. He loses track of Will for ten minutes and suddenly every worst case scenario on the planet starts playing in his head. Had Will wandered off? Passed out Left the pool entirely? Mike didn’t even want to think about what he’d do if he had disappeared. Probably freak out. Again. Maybe cry. Possibly barf. All of the above. Don’t be a pussy, Wheeler.

 

He pushed through another cluster of people and finally, finally, let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Will was still there. He sat at the edge of the pool, shoulders hunched, legs dangling into the water as they swung back and forth with a lazy, half conscious rhythm. Water droplets clung to his skin and mixed with the sweat tracking down from his hairline. His hair was plastered flat to his forehead, casting shadows over his eyes. He still looked sick, pale in a way that didn’t match the warm light of the setting sun, but better than before. The cooling air definitely helped. Or maybe the sun setting just made it harder to see how bad he actually was. Either way, Mike’s lungs finally loosened. Will was here. Not gone. He rubbed a shaky hand over his face and started toward him.

 

Mike eased himself down beside Will, careful and clumsy at the same time, tucking his knees to his chest so his shoes wouldn’t get soaked. Pointless, really, his shorts were already damp, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to his legs. Whatever. He didn’t care. Not when Will was still sitting there and ill. He let out a slow breath, trying not to stare directly at him. Will being in just his swim trunks didn’t help the situation, bare shoulders tense, goosebumps rising along his arms, Mike felt a heat crawl up his cheeks, completely against his will. Can you not right now, Michael? Will didn’t turn, didn’t even spare Mike a glance, just continued swinging his legs gently under the surface, like his arrival was just background noise. The noise of the pool had died down with the crowd. The lifeguards’ whistles were gone. The splashing had stopped. Only the faint hum of the filters and distant chatter from the parking lot filled the space between them.

 

“You okay?” Mike whispered, voice low like he didn’t want even the water to overhear.

 

Will didn’t look over. Didn’t even pause.

“You ask that a lot.” he murmured, barely audible.

 

Mike swallowed, watching the ripples around Will’s ankles. “Just want to make sure.”

 

Will shrugged, slow and stiff, finally turning his head toward him. Mike looked up to meet his eyes, only to feel his stomach drop. Those weren’t Will’s eyes. Instead of the soft greenish hazel Mike had grown to find comfort in, they were darker. Much darker. A muddy, ugly brown, almost black, that swallowed the light around them. Empty. Wrong. Yeah. That confirmed it. Every awful suspicion he’d spent the last hour trying not to think about. Mike pushed himself to his feet, legs unsteady, and forced a smile, too wide, too bright, probably twitching at the corners. He held a hand out toward Will, hoping the shake in his fingers wasn’t obvious.

 

“Will” hesitated, just for a flicker, a single unnatural pause, before finally lifting his hand and placing it in Mike’s. Cold. The kind of cold that sunk straight through Mike’s skin and into the bone, the kind that made his breath hitch and his stomach twist because he already knew exactly what that meant. His fingers tightened in spite of himself. God, why was his hand so fucking cold? Even though the answer was already there, clawing at the back of Mike’s mind, heavy and awful and impossible to deny.

 

Mike pulled “Will” up, trying not to wince at how quickly the cold left his palm once he let go. He forced his breathing to stay even, forced his expression not to give away the panic scraping along his ribs. He cleared his throat, the sound thin and shaky.

 

“Let’s go… get you changed, hm?”

 

He didn’t wait for an answer. He just turned and started toward the locker room, the echo of his wet sneakers slapping against the concrete unnervingly loud now that the place was practically empty. He didn’t need to look back. He already knew it was following him, quiet, deliberate, every step too measured, too controlled, too not Will. The air behind him felt colder. Denser. Mike swallowed hard.

 

———————————————————————

 

Mike paced outside the stall as “Will” changed, shifting from one foot to the other, palms pressed to his shorts like he could wipe his nerves off. The tiled floor was damp from the swarm of swimmers who already cleared out, and every echo in the locker room sounded too loud. He felt stupid for standing guard like this, stupid and exposed, but the others were already in position. Everything was set. It was too late to back out. Fabric rustled behind the door. Mike swallowed. When “Will” finally stepped out, Mike’s breath caught in his throat. The striped long sleeved shirt clung a little too neatly to his frame, his shorts hit just above the knee in a way that would’ve been cute, if it had actually been Will. Wet hair still hung in clumps against his forehead. His skin looked clammy, washed out under the fluorescent lights.

 

For a split second Mike smiled, a stupid, instinctive little smile, because the sight was familiar. But then it hit him again that this wasn’t Will, not really, and the moment faded. He forced the smile away. He cleared his throat, hoping it masked the crack in his voice.

 

“Uh… I can’t find the rest of the party. You mind helping me look?”

 

The words sounded mechanical. Too careful. Too rehearsed. He knew it. He could almost feel the thing dissecting every syllable. “Will” didn’t answer at first. His eyes narrowed just slightly, like he was scanning Mike’s face for something Mike didn’t realize he was giving away. The stare felt colder than the air surrounding them both. Then, after an uncomfortably long beat, “Will” gave a small, stiff nod. And Mike exhaled, quiet and shaky, because that was all he needed.

 

He walked alongside it, every step tight and careful, glancing over every few seconds to make sure it didn’t drift away when he wasn’t looking. He hated that he had to think like that, track it, don’t lose it, don’t let it slip off into the shadows, but that’s what this was now. A horror movie. It never spoke, never reacted, never made a sound except the soft tapping of his wet sneakers on tile. They moved deeper into the locker room, the fluorescent lights thinning out until most of the space was swallowed in shadow. It looked too dark for a summer evening, the air thick and stale. Their footsteps echoed softly, the only sign this wasn’t some nightmare Mike had fallen into. Eventually they reached it, the open sauna door, spilling warm yellow light across the floor. The sight nearly knocked the breath out of him. This was it. This was the moment. He turned his head just slightly, enough to steal a glance at “Will.”

 

It was already tilting its head, slowly. It moved his body forward, drawn toward the open door. Holy shit. He didn’t even need to say anything. It was just… going. Walking straight into-

 

Of course the thought jinxed it.

 

“Will” suddenly paused, halfway over the threshold, and twisted his back toward him. The motion was sharp, wrong. Its eyes narrowed, scanning him with a dark, heavy suspicion that made Mike’s breath hitch. For a split second he thought it knew and that was it, the whole plan was dead. But, he wasn’t one to back down easily.

 

Sorry, Will.

 

He didn’t wait. He didn’t think. He just ran. He lunged forward with all the force his panicked body could give, slamming both hands into “Will’s” back. The body toppled forward into the sauna, hitting the bench with a heavy thud. Shit. He hopped that didn’t have lasting effects. Before the thing could twist around and grab him, Mike yanked the door shut, almost crushing his fingers in the rush. He shouted, voice cracking with urgency

 

“Now!”

 

Max and Lucas burst from their hiding spots the second the door slammed, metal clacking and chains rattling as they sprinted forward. Max threw the heavy chain around the handle with shaking hands while Lucas slid the steel rod through the handle and the adjacent pipe, locking it in place with a hollow, final clang that echoed through the tiled room. Mike didn’t hesitate, he lunged for the controls, fingers slipping on the dials before he managed to crank the sauna heat to full power. The machine growled to life, vents hissing as the temperature began to climb. He prayed it would hit the needed 220 degrees fast enough. A loud, furious thud hit the other side of the door. Then another. Eleven stepped out from behind her own hiding spot, expression tightening as she moved to the front, right between the others and the door, planting her feet she was ready to fight if need be. Mike, Max, and Lucas stumbled behind her in a shaky cluster, all of them wide eyed, breaths held, staring at the straining door as another violent impact shuddered through the metal.

 

None of them spoke.

 

“Will’s” fist slammed against the sauna window, the sound sharp enough to crack through all four of them at once. His body, Will’s body, pushed itself upright in these horrible, jerky motions. He staggered, then steadied, then glared through the glass at them, eyes full of fury.

 

“What is this?” he muttered, voice low and warped, nothing like the soft tone Will normally carried in his voice.

 

“WHAT IS THIS?” It snapped. It hit the glass again, rattling it. Mike flinched hard, heart slamming into his ribs, breath catching in his throat. That definitely wasn’t Will. It wasn’t even close.

 

“Mike.” It whispered. The sound crawled under his skin. A second ago it had sounded wrong, too deep, too sharp, now it was soft, small, trembling. Will’s voice.

 

“Mike, let me out of here… please.” The last word cracked, thin and uneven, like Will was about to cry. Mike’s breath hitched hard. His chest felt too tight to pull in air. The other three turned toward him at the same time, all silently waiting for him to say something, they themselves were wide eyed, had no idea how to proceed. His ears were ringing. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs in a frantic, painful rhythm. His palms were clammy. “Will” pressed his forearm against the scorching glass, leaning his forehead to it. Sweat dripped down, streaking the window as he stared through it.

 

“This isn’t funny. Open. The door. Please.” The words were shaky, broken, and Mike’s stomach twisted painfully at the sound. He swallowed hard, his chest tight, and slowly inched closer to the sauna. Mike froze when “Will” suddenly collapsed to the floor, his chest tightening as panic surged through him. Every instinct screamed at him to rush forward, and he did, sprinting the last few steps to the sauna. Pressing his face to the glass, he peered inside, heart hammering, as Will’s body trembled violently on the floor.

 

And then the sobbing began.

 

It was soft, meek and pitiful, absolutely gut wrenching, it echoed off the sauna walls and ricocheted through Mike’s chest. His stomach twisted, his throat burned, he felt like someone had ripped his heart straight out of his chest and shattered it into a million pieces.

 

“Mike. It’s not my fault, it’s not my fault, I promise it’s not my fault, Mike.” The words came out in a fragile loop, barely above a whisper, as “Will” curled into himself on the floor. His arms wrapped around his chest, shoulders shaking, the kind of trembling that came from somewhere deep, somewhere terrified. God. Mike felt something inside him split straight down the middle. Every instinct he had screamed at him to rip the chain off, throw the door open, drag Will out of that steam filled box and hold him, hold him against his chest and tell him he’d make it okay. He’d fix it. He’d make Will feel better. Because Will didn’t deserve this. Not any of it. He was the sweetest, softest, most selfless boy Mike had ever known. Kinder than anyone in all of Hawkins. Braver than Mike could ever pretend to be. More of a man than Mike would ever grow into.

 

He didn’t deserve to be used like this.

 

Mike’s hand lifted toward the handle, breath shaking, vision blurring, ready to make the worst decision of his life.  Until a gentle tug on his sleeve stopped him. He turned. Eleven stood there, looking up at him with wide, steady eyes. She shook her head once. Slow. Firm. Not unkind, just certain. Certain in the way Mike wasn’t. He stared at her, throat tight, chest heaving. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Then he shut his eyes, forcing air into his lungs, forcing his legs not to move, forcing himself to nod.

 

He had to stay strong.

 

“He made me do it.” Will sobbed softly from the sauna. “He made me do… really bad things, Mike.” The words hit Mike like a punch to the chest. His breath stuttered, too sharp, he genuinely thought his lungs might burst. He looked back into the sauna. Will was on his knees now, trembling, hands folded together like he was praying, begging, pleading with someone who could save him. Mike’s vision blurred. He swallowed hard, shaking, he had to look straight down at his feet. His hands flew up to cover his ears, just for a second, just long enough to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

 

Max stepped forward, voice steady even though her face was full of terror. “Who made you do it, Will?” she asked, because Mike couldn’t. God, he was grateful for her at that very moment. Will’s head lifted.

 

“The Mind Flayer.”

 

Confirmed.

 

Eleven and Max shared a look.

 

Mike took a shaky breath before speaking again, forcing the words out even though his throat felt tight enough to close. He couldn’t bring himself to look inside anymore, every time he tried, his stomach twisted and his chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, breaths unsteady.

 

“What did… what did he make you do, Will?” he whispered, barely audible above the sound of Will’s sobbing echoing off the tile.

 

“It’s not my fault, Mike!” Will cried, voice cracking as he curled in on himself in the center of the sauna. “Please! Please believe me! It’s not my fault…” His words stretched into a choked whimper, and Mike felt like someone was driving a knife deeper and deeper into his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched so hard it hurt, trying, failing, not to fall apart. He’d known this would be horrible, but hearing Will like this? It was unbearable.

 

“I tried to stop him.” Will whispered, weaker now, like the confession was dragging itself out of him. “I tried to fight him back, but he’s too strong.” He gulped for air between the words, trembling violently. “Please believe me, Mike.” He meekly whimpered.

 

Mike didn’t even realize the tears had started again until one slid off his chin and hit the back of his hand. He couldn’t stop them. He didn’t even try. He just stood there, shaking, listening to Will’s voice break, wishing he could make it all stop.

 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Mike whispered again, his palm flattening against the glass. He wasn’t sure if he was saying it for Will’s sake or his own. His voice felt thin, pathetic, like it barely belonged to him. He wished, God, he wished, he could stop being such a.. pussy and actually be strong for Will. He didn’t even notice the moment Will shifted. One moment he was curled in on himself, shaking. The next, he had crept forward on all fours, fingers reaching under the lower bench for something Mike couldn’t see. Mike blinked, chest tight, mind scattered. He couldn’t make his brain process anything except the sound of Will’s breathing and the fogging of the glass beneath his hand. Mike dragged in a breath that felt like it scraped down his throat.

 

“We’re gonna help you, okay?” he said, louder this time, voice cracking on the last word. “We’re going to get that…” he swallowed, jaw tightening, “Thing out of you.” That was a promise.

 

Mike stumbled backward when Will suddenly lunged upward, smashing through the sauna window with a jagged piece of broken tile. The glass burst outward, spraying fine shards across the floor as Will’s blood slicked knuckle punched through the opening. He slammed his fist against the outer door, over and over, each hit sending a dull metallic ring echoing across the locker room.

 

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!” he roared, his voice was suddenly deeper, cracked, furious.

 

Mike hit the floor hard, the breath knocked out of him as he stared up at “Will’s” face. A sting cut across his cheek, hot and sharp. He lifted his fingers to it on instinct, pulling his hand away and seeing blood smeared across his fingertips. Shit. Inside the sauna, “Will” kept screaming incoherently, words tumbling over each other, voice shredded with anger. His face twisted into something feral. He wrapped his fingers around the rod holding the door shut, jerking at it with terrifying force, metal grinding under his grip. Before Mike could even scramble to his feet, Lucas stepped forward with a sharp inhale, lifting his wrist rocket. He pulled the band all the way back, jaw clenched, and fired. The rock shot through the broken window and hit Will square in the nose with a sickening crack. The boy stumbled backward, collapsing into the heat hazed interior of the sauna, the tile clattering out of his hand as he hit the bench behind him.

 

“Guys! Come on!” Lucas shouted, voice cracking. Eleven and Max grabbed Mike under the arms and hauled him up, his legs trembling beneath him. They all staggered backward across the floor, and Eleven instinctively stepped in front of the others, shoulders squared, eyes locked on the shattered sauna window. Mike, Max, and Lucas huddled behind her in a messy formation. The lights above flickered, buzzing like angry insects. Inside the sauna, Mike heard “Will” gasp, followed by a string of guttural, wet groans that didn’t sound human. The hairs on his arms rose. Something was happening to him, in him. Mike watched, horrified, as “Will” pushed up from the floor, one hand dragging along the tiled wall for balance. When he turned toward the broken window, his nose was bent sharply, blood smeared down to his lip from Lucas’s shot. And then Mike saw it, the black veins crawling up his neck, threading beneath his skin, climbing toward his jaw and eyes. Will’s face twisted, contorting with pain, before he threw himself at the door with a violent snarl.

 

“He can’t get out… can he?” Max whispered, eyes wide, stepping back until her heel hit a bench behind her.

 

“No way… No way” Lucas muttered, though his voice came out thin, almost like he was trying to convince himself.

 

“Will” pulled back, shoulders heaving. Mike barely had time to inhale before it let out a raw, animalistic roar and sprinted forward. It slammed its entire weight into the door. The adjacent pipe the chain was wrapped around bursting. He didn’t have time to process how, only the sound, sharp and metallic, whipping through the room. Then the door burst open and “Will” tumbled out, skidding across the floor and landing at their feet, limbs jerking like a freshly shocked corpse. They all screamed, stumbling backward as the “boy” on the ground began to rise.

 

It stared straight at Eleven at first, expression blank, unreadable, then its face twisted, lips curling back as a low, animalistic growl vibrated out of its chest. Eleven glanced around the weight room in a panic, her eyes scrambling for anything she could use to pin Will down without hurting him or out right killing the poor boy. A bar, dumbbell, something. She was too slow. “Will” lunged, slamming into her with full force. The impact knocked the wind out of her, the two of them crashed to the floor as the others all stumbled backwards in different directions. Eleven tried to shove him off, her hands braced against his shoulders, screaming with effort, but “Will” jerked a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back hard enough to make her cry out. Its face snapped up toward Mike.

 

And that look, pure, cold malice, froze him in place. Before Eleven could twist away, its free hand clamped around her throat. She let out a chopped, panicked choke, her legs kicking against the floor as she clawed at his arm.

 

“No! No!” she rasped, voice cracking under the weight of his grip. “Will” just stared down at her with deadened eyes and kept squeezing. Mike stood there, frozen. His brain refused to process anything except the sight of “Will” straddling Eleven with both hands now locked around her throat. She clawed at his forearms, gasping, kicking, her eyes wide with terror. Move. Move, you dumbass! Mike’s body went before his mind did. He lurched forward, grabbing the “boy’s” shoulders and yanking with everything he had, he didn’t grab anything, he didn’t want to hurt Will even more. It wasn’t expecting it. “Will’s” grip slipped just enough for El to wrench free, coughing as she scrambled backwards. Mike didn’t get even a second to breathe. “Will” twisted, swinging blindly, the fist connecting with Mike’s cheek so hard his vision burst white. He hit the floor, the pain throbbing immediately, sharp and hot. He didn’t have time to even react before “Will” stepped over him, lifting a foot, ready to bring it down on his chest, maybe his throat. Mike scrambled backwards, palms scraping against the tile. He was sure that was it.

And then “Will” lifted off the floor with a guttural groan.

 

El.

 

She had both arms outstretched, shaking violently, her face screwed up in pure effort as the “boy” thrashed midair, twisting and clawing at nothing. She spun her body, moving to stand directly in front of him, dragging him away from Mike as she let out a strangled cry. “Will” matched it with one of his own. She planted her feet. She screamed. She threw her arms outward with everything she had left. The force launched “Will” straight through the weight room wall, bricks exploding outward. A gaping hole ripped open, and his body tumbled into the grass outside with a sickening thud.

 

Max and Lucas stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide, breaths shallow. Eleven dropped to her knees beside Mike, her whole body trembling as she struggled to stay upright. Blood dripped in a slow line from her nose. The room felt impossibly quiet after all that screaming, like the air itself still hadn’t caught up. Max swallowed hard, knees wobbling as she stepped closer. Lucas stayed just behind her, too afraid to blink. Then, Footsteps. Fast ones. Pounding down into the room.

 

Mike forced his eyes open, everything blurry at the edges. He barely had time to lift his head before two figures burst into view, Nancy first, then Jonathan right behind her. They both looked terrified, scanning the destroyed room, the smashed wall, the scorch of heat still radiating from the open sauna. Mike exhaled, relieved, just as the world finally tilted under him. His vision collapsed inward, dark around the edges.

The last thing he saw was Nancy dropping to her knees beside him and Jonathan grabbing Eleven’s shoulders, shaking as he checked if she was still breathing.

 

Then everything went black.

 

———————————————————————

 

“The girl… was it her?” The boy asked. Will couldn’t quite remember his name, his head throbbed too violently for anything to stick. Warm blood smeared across his upper lip as he wiped at his nose with a shaky hand. Everything hurt.

 

“Yeah” he answered for him. “It was her. She knows now. She knows about ME.”

A grunt escaped him as he wiped again, the pressure sending sharp pain through his skull.

 

“She could’ve killed him. My perfect vessel.” he added, cold and almost admiring. He was talking about him, about Will.

 

“Yes” the boy replied quietly. “But not the rest of us.” Will blinked, vision swimming as he turned his head. In the shadows, more figures came into focus, far more than before. Their outlines, their breathing, the weight of them in the room. When had there become so many? He didn’t have the strength to question it. Darkness edged in fast, swallowing the corners of his vision.

 

“Sleep, William.” he whispered in the back of his mind, softly, almost kindly. “You need rest.”

 

And Will went under.

Chapter Text

“Ow, ow, ow.” Mike groaned under his breath as Nancy dabbed rubbing alcohol against the cut on his cheek. The sting shot straight through his skull, and he clenched his jaw, trying not to pull away from her hand. His cheek was swollen, bruised, this ugly purple color spreading along the bone. It still didn’t feel real that Will had punched him that hard. Will. The kid who apologized when he you bumped into him, the boy who always asked if you were okay, even if he was the one who got hurt, the boy who despite everything he’s been through, continued to be the sweetest most amazing boy Mike had ever met. The idea of him throwing a punch at anyone, still felt a little incomprehensible.

 

“Mike, just.. relax for one second.” Nancy muttered. Her voice was tight, the way it always got when she was on edge, but was refusing to show it. She finished cleaning the cut, tossed the bloodied cotton into the bowl, then peeled a bandaid from its wrapper and pressed it over the cut with careful fingers. The sting hadn’t even faded before she grabbed the ice pack she’d hauled down from upstairs. She pressed it gently to his cheek. The pressure made him hiss and flinch back, instinctive and pathetic. Loser.

 

“Hold this.” She guided his hand up until he was pressing the pack to his face himself, the coolness biting into the bruise. Nancy stood, letting out a long shaky breath, and crossed the room to where Jonathan and Max were hovering beside the couch. El sat cross legged on the couch, the walkie clutched tight in both hands as it played static. Her shoulders were tense, blindfold over her eyes as she attempt to find Hopper. They needed to find him and tell him everything, the Mind Flayer, Will, the attack, all of it, they needed to help him. Mike could feel himself spiraling again just thinking about it, but honestly? He couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t lose Will again. From his spot on the armchair, Mike glanced sideways at Lucas sitting beside him on the floor, legs stretched out, arms resting on his knees. Lucas met his look and just shrugged. Fair. Mike didn’t know what to say either.

 

After a few painfully awkward minutes of silence, everyone glancing between each other and then back at Eleven, she finally spoke.

 

“I found him.”

 

Her voice was quiet, but certain. Everyone immediately became alert. Mike straightened a little, wincing as the ice pack shifted against his cut, Lucas sat up from his spot on the floor, trying to raise his head to get a better look at El, Max from her spot leaned in, seemingly about to ask her to elaborate further. But, Nancy beat her to it.

 

“Where? Doing what?” she asked, her tone sharp. Eleven took a moment before continuing.

 

“Woods.” she said simply, adjusting herself on the couch, her grip tightened around the walkie. “With… he’s with Will’s mom.”

 

“My mom?” Jonathan muttered under his breath. He stared at his hands, twisting them together anxiously. The thought clearly rattled him. His mom, running around in the woods with Hopper? It made no sense. He clearly was in a state of distress, anyone with eyes could see that. His little brother was possessed again, trapped in his own body, again, going through terrors none of them could even begin to understand, terrors that were probably ripping him apart from the inside out, causing irreparable damage to his poor body. And now his mom was off with Hopper doing god knows what in the middle of the woods. His knee bounced, jaw tight, fingers pinched together like he was fighting the urge to tear his own hair out. He wasn’t asking for much. He just wanted answers. And Mike wanted the same damn answers.

 

“Ill-annoy.” Eleven continued suddenly, her face remained neutral throughout, not missing a beat as she followed up her previous statement. “They’re going to… Ill-annoy.”

 

Mike opened his mouth to ask what the hell she meant by that, when a sudden knock echoed from the top of the basement stairs. He practically jumped out of his skin at the sound, his nerves already stretched thin, and he bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to hold back a groan of pure and utter annoyance when his mom’s voice floated down.

 

“Mike! Nancy! Breakfast!”

 

“NOT NOW, MOM!” he and Nancy snapped at the same exact time. Mike gaze went from the door over to his sister as he blinked at her, surprised. Nancy rarely lost her patience like that, not out loud anyway. She caught his look and offered a quick, dry, little smile, as if to say “yeah, I know” before turning her focus straight back to Eleven. Max blinked at Eleven, still confused, tilting her head like she was trying to unscramble the sound.

 

“Okay… so they’re going to Illinois? Like, the state?”

 

Eleven slowly pulled the blindfold up and over her head, her fingers a little shaky. She blinked hard as her eyes adjusted to the basement lights, pupils shrinking. Her hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat, cheeks flushed from focusing so long. She nodded once, firm but tired, then repeated herself, quieter this time, with a tiny shrug like she wasn’t sure she said it right.

 

“Ill-annoy.”

 

Nancy nodded, absorbing everything Eleven had said before pushing herself to her feet with a quiet groan.

“Well… there goes that.”

 

“Okay, so Hopper’s M.I.A.” Jonathan said as he stood up beside her, shifting a bit closer and taking her hand to try and calm her down, which clearly was not helping in the slightest. “Have you heard back from Steve yet?”

 

While the two of them murmured to each other, Max stood and gently took Eleven’s wrist, helping her balance as she got her legs under her. She leaned in, whispering something to El, quiet enough that Mike couldn’t make it out from his seat on the armchair. Not that he could’ve heard it anyway with Nancy and Jonathan talking over each other. He pressed the ice pack harder to his cheek, wincing. As much as he wanted to march over there and smack Max in the back of the head with it, he knew how idiotic that would be. Eleven wasn’t the priority right now, not when Will was out there, possessed by the Mind Flayer again, and Mike was sitting here like a useless sack of shit. She was a.. subconcern, yeah. He swallowed, trying to steady the sour twist in his stomach. He could fix things with El later. Right now he needed his face to stop throbbing and his brain to stop spinning long enough to help Will. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from glaring daggers into the back of Max’s head as she guided El toward the bathroom. Max didn’t even turn around, she just raised her hand behind her and flipped him off without missing a step. Mike rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath.

 

“Yeah, screw you too.”

 

“What?” Lucas asked as he stood up, stretching his arms over his head until his joints cracked. He let out a small grunt, before plopping down on the arm rest of the chair and looking over at Mike expectingly.

 

Mike didn’t even flinch. He just shrugged, looking miserable, hollow, and still clutching the ice pack like it was the only thing keeping his skull attached to his body.

 

“Dude. Hello? Earth to Mike?”

 

Mike didn’t answer. He just kept staring ahead. There wasn’t much else he could do except sit there with the stupid ice pack pressed to his bruised cheek. He wished he wasn’t knocked out of commission over a single punch. He wished he was stronger, strong enough to be useful right now, strong enough to not be out of commission from a single punch to the face, strong enough to help Will.

 

———————————————————————

 

So turns out that not eating breakfast when you’re injured is a terrible idea, because the second the food hit Mike’s system, he realized just how woozy and borderline dead he’s been feeling, he honestly almost threw up from how fast he swallowed down his food. Nance had given him a look, but honestly he didn’t care enough to snark back about her minding her own business. After a quick, tense breakfast for the whole party (he was grateful mom and Holly were out so she wouldn’t make a fuss out of his cheek), they all headed back downstairs, settling into their familiar spots as they tried to figure out what came next. Max flopped onto the couch, arms crossed, and stated the obvious.

 

“So not only do we need to stop the Mind Flayer again. But, we also have to save Will. Again.”

 

Mike resisted the urge to roll his eyes so hard they’d fly out of his skull. No shit, Sherlock. Congratulations, Max Mayfield, you have been awarded the smartest person award for repeating the one thing literally all of them were already painfully aware of. He only exhaled sharply, the ice pack sliding a little on his cheek as he tried to sit up straighter. They already knew the situation sucked, they didn’t need a reminder. But at least now everyone was fed, awake, and finally able to think clearly enough to plan.

 

“What exactly is his plan though?” Lucas chimed in, and honestly… yeah. A really good question. Will had been hanging around them pretty much nonstop, so why the hell would the Mind Flayer care about tagging along with a bunch of teenagers in July? What was it getting out of that? The room went quiet, everyone drifting into their own thoughts, trying to piece together a pattern that just wasn’t there. Mike pressed the ice pack harder against his cheek, wincing, he really needed to stop doing that, honesty at this point he thinks all the ice has melted. For a moment all you could hear was the hum of the surrounding basement. Then Nancy suddenly shot upright, eyes wide.

 

“Mrs. Driscoll!” she blurted, turning sharply toward Jonathan.

 

Jonathan blinked at her. “What?”

 

“Mrs. Driscoll, we found her eating all that fertilizer after she found that.. diseased rat!”

 

“Nancy, what does that have to do with anything?” Jonathan muttered, irritation bleeding into his voice despite himself. Mike couldn’t blame him, he looked strung out and terrified, probably just as desperate for answers to help his little brother, Mike could relate.

 

“Think about it,” Nancy pressed. “She wasn’t acting like herself at all. She was eating fertilizer, there was a “diseased” rat in her house.. it has to be connected to the Mind Flayer.”

 

Jonathan stared at her, brow furrowed. He looked confused at first, but then his expression shifted slowly, like the pieces were finally lining up in his head. He gave a small nod.

 

“Okay, so what does that mean?” Max asked, glancing between the two of them with growing impatience, clearly waiting for one of them to spell it out.

 

“It means… Will’s not the only one who’s flayed.” Lucas said quietly. He looked over at Max, jaw tightening. “It means-“

 

“He’s flaying more victims.” Mike finished for him. He lowered the ice pack from his cheek, ignoring the sting of air hitting the bruise as he looked around at the rest of the group. His stomach dropped as the words left his mouth.

 

“He’s making an army.”

 

———————————————————————

 

Will couldn’t exactly remember much of the last twelve hours, just scattered flashes, blacking in and out of his own damn brain. But now he was awake. Fully. Unfortunately. He didn’t know how long he’d been crawling, but he found himself dragging his body down his driveway, the rough grave below scraping his palms. The house looked empty when he squinted at it, dark windows, no movement, not to mention no cars in the driveway. Good. At least nobody would see him like this. Everything hurt. His arms trembled with every pull forward, his back burned like someone had raked hot wire across it, his vision kept smearing at the edges, and there was this pounding behind his eyes that made him feel like he might throw up if he breathed too hard. He reached the front steps and shoved at the door, the hinges giving a long creak that sounded a lot louder than it should’ve. Then his body gave out and he hit the floor, the warm, stale air of the house washing over him like a blanket he didn’t want.

 

For a moment he just lay there, cheek against the hardwood, chest jerking with uneven breaths. But then he forced his arms under him again and started pulling himself forward, slow, dragging movements, each one making him let out these tiny, broken grunts he didn’t even notice he was making. He pulled himself up onto his bed and practically melted the second his body hit the plush mattress. A shaky breath slipped out of him, almost a whimper, as he buried his face into the pillow and let the softness swallow the pain for a moment. The fabric was cool against his cheek, and for a few precious seconds he just lay there, breathing slow, trying to hold on to that small pocket of relief.

 

Eventually he forced himself upright again, spine stiff and trembling, because lying there didn’t change anything. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t run. He was forced to stay put. He was very much still here, lurking at the edges of his mind like a hand around his throat and Will knew exactly what would happen if he tried anything stupid. He stared down at his socked feet, blinking hard. When had his shoes disappeared? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. He dug his fingers into the blanket, took a long, unsteady breath, and tried to weigh his options, except there weren’t any. He was cut off. Helpless. His friends were out there, fighting, scrambling, doing everything they could, and he was stuck in this room until He finished whatever plan was already unfolding. Will swallowed, feeling the dread simmer low in his stomach. There was nothing he could do but sit and wait.

 

“William.”

 

Oh for fuck’s sake.

 

Woah, calm down, Byers.

 

“Leave me alone.” he mumbled, barely louder than his own breathing. He was tired of Him, so incredibly tired, exhausted down to the bone in a way that sleep didn’t even touch anymore. When was the last time he slept?

 

“William, why do you try to help them? Don’t you understand…? they see you as nothing more than a burden. A burden they are forced to save, again, and again, and again.”

 

Will squeezed his eyes shut.

 

Shut up. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

 

A thin ringing filled his ears, that awful pressure tightening at the base of his skull, crawling forward like cold fingers.

 

“Will. Look.”

 

Will’s eyes snapped open on instinct.

 

He blinked once.

 

And he wasn’t in his room anymore.

 

The Upside Down.

 

Oh god.

 

Will’s breath hitched as he looked around, the world suddenly swallowed in that dead blue haze, the floating ash drifting past his face like slow snow. He was back in that forest, the one he could still smell in nightmares, damp and rotting and endless. Panic seized him instantly. He tried to move his feet, tried to step back, tried to do anything, but his legs stayed locked in place. It was like the air itself held him down. His chest tightened. He watched, helpless, as his younger self burst through the trees. That little version of him, soaked, wearing that puffy red and yellow coat, hair plastered across his forehead, the gun clutched in his shaking hands. The boy ran and ran and ran, desperate, terrified, disappearing between the black trunks like prey.

 

“You were a good hider. But I, was a better seeker.”

 

The voice slid through him like cold water.

 

Castle Byers. The Demogorgon. The gunshot. The running. The screaming air in his lungs. Climbing. The crunch of wet leaves. All of it crashed together in his mind so fast he couldn’t pull anything apart. Will grabbed at his head, nails digging into his scalp as a groan tore out of him. Pain spiked behind his eyes, sharp and sudden, like his brain was trying to force a memory through a locked door. He dropped to his knees, the ground freezing through his shorts.

 

And then. The pressure vanished. The forest went silent. Everything stopped.

 

He opened his eyes again. The living room. Home. Mom and Jonathan were sat over the table, papers scattered everywhere. Bills. Letters. Stuff Will couldn’t even recognize. Their faces were tight, worried in that way Will knew all too well.

 

“I’m so sorry, baby” Mom whispered, voice small and cracked. She looked at Jonathan like it physically hurt her to say it. “We just… we can’t afford it.”

 

Will’s stomach dropped.

 

“With everything that’s happened with Will, it’s just… it’s too much.” she added, eyes shining. Jonathan’s shoulders slumped, and Will’s chest tightened. No. No, no, no, no, no. He didn’t want to be the reason his brother couldn’t-

 

“It’s okay, Mom” Jonathan said softly. He tried to smile, but it twitched at the corners, brittle, tired. “College isn’t… it’s not the end of the world.”

 

Will’s breath hitched. He could see the bills, the numbers circled, the overdue stamps. He swallowed hard.

 

“And if this keeps up…” Jonathan exhaled shakily, rubbing his forehead, picking up one of the letters. “We might not even be able to keep the house.”

 

Mom’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh god…”

 

Will stood there, frozen, shaking. He could barely breathe. Then Jonathan turned toward him.

 

“It’s all your fault.” he whispered.

 

Will’s eyes blew wide. What?

 

“If it wasn’t for you” Jonathan said, voice low, tired, almost disappointed. “we’d be fine. We’d be okay. But everything… Dad leaving, Bob dying, Mom working herself to death, every mess we’re in… it’s because of you.”

 

Will backed up, hands flying to his ears. No. No, that wasn’t Jonathan. Jonathan didn’t talk like this. Jonathan wouldn’t say this.

 

“William.” His voice wrapped around him, cold and heavy.

 

“He won’t say it out loud. But he thinks it. Deep down, he knows. Everything your family suffers, every burden they carry, every problem they face… It all begins with you.”

 

“Shut up.” Will whispered, shaking harder. “Shut up. Stop, please.” He squeezed his eyes shut, ears ringing, until.

 

He opened his eyes.

 

Mike’s basement. He knew it instantly, the smell of dust and old carpet, the dim lighting above them, the stacks of boxes, the drawings on the walls Mike insisted on keeping up even years later. His stomach twisted as he whipped his head around, trying to understand what was happening. Then something shoved him flat onto his back. Mike stood over him. Mike with his stupid chocolate brown eyes, the ones Will had memorized without meaning to. Mike with his freckles he’d secretly counted one bored summer afternoon, while he played on his atari. Mike with that messy black hair and that stupid face and all the stupid things Will wished he could forget. Except this Mike wasn’t looking at him the way he remembered. There was no softness. Just pure, sharp hate. Will’s breath hitched. His hands scrambled uselessly behind him as he tried to crawl backward.

 

“What is wrong with you?” Mike’s voice cracked through the room, louder than Will had ever heard it. The kind of shout that felt like it punched straight into his chest. Will flinched hard, shoving his palms over his ears as if that could muffle it, as if that could make this not real.

 

“I can’t believe it. I was friends with… with a-“

 

Will’s whole body tensed. Please don’t say it. Please don’t-

 

“a queer! A fairy! A-“

 

“Stop.” Will choked out, but the word barely made it past his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears slipping hot and fast down his cheeks as he pressed his fists harder against his ears. His breathing came in sharp little bursts, chest rising too fast, too tight, like the air in the room was thinning. The weight of the moment felt too real, too sharp around the edges to ignore. The version of Mike standing over him looked furious, disgusted in a way he had never looked at anything, let alone him. And then the voice slid back into his mind, oily and quiet, wrapping around his thoughts like smoke.

 

“He would never accept you, Will…” He murmured. “None of them would. Some minds, are not meant for this world to witness.”

 

Will shook his head violently, knees pulled to his chest now, curling inward like he could hide inside himself.

 

Make it stop. Please just let this end.

 

”William.”

 

Stop.

 

Stop.

 

STOP.

 

———————————————————————

 

Mikes head hurt. He let out a soft grunt as he brought a hand up to rub at his cheek. The stinging, throbbing pain had finally stopped, but the bruise was still there, ugly and sore every time he brushed it by accident. He sighed and let the back of his head thunk against the inside of Nancy’s car, feeling stupid sitting in the trunk while everyone else got actual seats. If Will were here… he wouldn’t feel so damn alone back here, or tense, or weirdly empty. Will had a way of making stupid situations like this more lively. Mike stared out the window as the scenery blurred by way too fast. Nancy was definitely driving over the speed limit, but honestly? Fair. They didn’t exactly have time for traffic laws.

 

The plan was simple, well, simple in concept. First: get to the hospital and check on Mrs. Driscoll. Jonathan and Nancy kept throwing around ideas about pretending to be her family members or grandkids or whatever, but Mike had stopped paying attention halfway through. His brain felt like static. All he cared about was the second part of the plan: sneaking into her room and figuring out whether Nancy was right about her being drawn back to wherever the Mind Flayer was hunkered down in. And if she was, then maybe Will was there too. Mike swallowed hard and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. He hated how quiet the car felt, hated the way everyone else seemed to be thinking the same thing and not saying it. And Mike couldn’t shake the feeling, this horrible, gnawing feeling, that Will was waiting for them. Or. He was.

 

Mike looked over toward the back row of seats, Max slouched in the middle, Lucas sitting in front of him, and El across from him, her arms crossed tight like she was trying to hold herself together. Mike stared at the back of her head for a long moment. It hit him, all over again, how weird everything felt now. Not only had he lost Will, but he lost his girlfriend too. So basically, he had no real support system left. Not like before. Not like when things were simple and they were being stupid during summer. Lucas tried sometimes, shooting him the occasional look or nudging him when he spaced out, but even then Mike could feel the distance. Everyone had their own thing going on, their own problems, their own fear. And Mike, Mike had too much happening in his head to say any of it out loud. He felt like if he opened his mouth, he’d spill everything at once and never be able to shove it back in.

 

He sank lower against the wall of the trunk, letting the hum of the car fill the silence in his chest. If Will were here, yes he’s doing this again, just sitting next to him, rambling about DnD or smiling that tiny, crooked smile, Mike wouldn’t feel this stupid, crushing emptiness pressing into his ribs. He wouldn’t feel so… alone. God, he really needed to start up a new campaign, just so he could see Will smile again. He needs that more than anything right now.

 

———————————————————————

 

Max jolted when the car lurched to a stop. She reached over and gently shook El’s shoulder, pulling her out of whatever trance she’d slipped into, and the two of them climbed out after everyone else. The hospital doors slid open with that annoying hiss, and the whole group trudged inside  the fluorescent lit lobby. Nancy and Jonathan were in front, moving fast, tight jawed, already rehearsing whatever lie they would feed the receptionist to get up to Mrs. Driscoll. Behind them were Mike and Lucas. Lucas looked laser focused, eyes forward, jaw set, totally locked in on the plan. Mike, on the other hand, looked like a zombie wearing Mike Wheeler’s clothes. He kept his eyes glued to the floor, shoulders hunched, shuffling forward like every step cost energy he didn’t have. That bruise on his cheek, the one he insisted wasn’t a big deal was making him look even paler than usual. And the silence, Mike Wheeler being quiet was almost more alarming than anything else happening today.

 

Then there was her and El, trailing behind the group, playing catch up both literally and emotionally, well at least Max was. She wasn’t as close to Will as the others were. Sure she’d hung around with him when the party got together and would make short conversations, but they weren’t best buddies or anything. Maybe that’s why Mike looks like that. Max glanced between them all, and a cold, anxious feeling settled in her stomach. She walks alongside the group and they pull to a stop as they reach the reception desk.

 

“Hi, we’re here to visit… Doris Driscoll. I think she was admitted a day or two ago.” Nancy said, forcing a polite smile as she stepped up to the counter. The fluorescent hospital lights made the bags under her eyes even more obvious, but she kept her voice steady. The receptionist looked up from her paperwork and pulled the phone away from her ear, giving the whole group a slow once over, six exhausted teenagers in mismatched clothes, half of them looking like they’d been hit by a truck. This is great look.

 

“Name and relation?”

 

“I’m Nancy… Driscoll. Her granddaughter.”

It came out confident at first, then her voice dipped at the end, not suspiciously, but in that way someone sounds when they’re trying to think of something and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to look like someone who definitely had a grandmother named Doris. The receptionist’s brow lifted. She looked past Nancy at the rest of the group. Mike stood slouched with his hands shoved into his pockets, the ugly purple bruise on his cheek making him look even more miserable than usual, ugh. Lucas stood beside him, back straight, eyes focused, the only one who looked like he had any idea what they were doing. Max and El hovered at the back, Max tapped her foot impatiently while El blinked around the lobby like she was still halfway in her own head, which she probably was.

 

“Oh. This is my… family.” Nancy added, giving a small, painfully awkward smile as she gestured at the group. The receptionist slowly turned her attention back to the group, hand on her hip as she raised an eyebrow. Lucas cleared his throat.

 

“Extended.” Lucas said, forcing a tight smile that could’ve been pulled straight from an after school special. Well played, Sinclair.

 

The nurse scoffed and shook her head.

“I don’t care who they are. You know the rules, two visitors at a time.”

 

“Yeah, but-“ Nancy tried, leaning in a little, already slipping into her determined reporter voice.

 

“Two.” The nurse repeated, firmer this time, already picking her phone back up and flipping a page on her clipboard like the conversation was over.

 

Nancy let out a long, quiet sigh through her nose and turned to Jonathan. She didn’t say anything out loud, but Max saw the little look they exchanged, one of those silent conversations couples somehow learn how to have, and apparently it meant plan b, because the two of them immediately peeled off toward the elevators without explaining a thing. Alright then. Max glanced at Mike and Lucas. Lucas just gave a small shrug, while Mike barely reacted at all, still staring down at the stupid hospital tiles like they personally offended him. El moved closer to Max, eyes flicking around the lobby in that wary, focused way she always got when she was trying to listen to things nobody else could hear.

 

“Well.” Max muttered under her breath, “That went great.” Eleven nodded and walked with Max as she tugged her toward a quieter corner of the lobby, away from the boys. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, the whole place smelling like bleach and old coffee.

 

“You doing okay?” Max asked, glancing sideways at her as she crossed her arms against the cold hospital air.

 

Eleven hesitated, then shrugged. “I am okay. But something feels…”

 

“Off? Yeah. Definitely.” Max rubbed her palms together, blowing out a breath. “This place freaks me out.”

 

Eleven didn’t comment on that, her eyes had drifted back toward Mike and Lucas. Lucas was dragging Mike toward the vending machine with the energy of someone forcing a toddler to hydrate. Mike followed stiffly.

 

“He is… quiet.” Eleven said softly.

 

Max let out a short laugh, nodding. “Tell me about it. I’m shocked he’s not complaining about every tiny thing that annoys him. That’s, like, his number one personality trait.”

 

Eleven didn’t smile. She kept watching Mike. “He is worried about Will. I can feel it.”

 

Max’s grin sagged instantly. “Right.” She suddenly felt like a total dick for making fun of him. Which is crazy, feeling bad for Mike Wheeler? Come on, Max.

 

She looked over at him again, and, yeah. To be fair, he looked empty, for lack of a better word. Hollowed out. Like he was one wrong breath away from crumpling to the floor and never getting back up. Max felt her stomach twist, she hadn’t even realized how bad he was taking all this.

 

“Should you… talk to him?” Max muttered to El, keeping her voice low. “Maybe you could get through to him a little?”

 

Eleven glanced at her, uncertain, but still started walking toward Mike.

 

Max let out a quiet sigh and let her head drop back against the wall. The sterile hospital air felt colder now, settling on her skin. She watched El raise her hand and slam the vending machine with her powers usually the kind of thing that would leave Mike in awe. But he didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even blink. Even when Lucas held out a handful of snacks with a huge grin.  She zoned out for a moment, chewing her lip, until Lucas suddenly appeared beside her and held out a bag of Skittles like an olive branch.

 

“Hey! How’s it going?” he asked, voice softer than usual, like he already knew the answer.

 

Max narrowed her eyes, ignoring the candy. “What’s up with Mike?”

 

Lucas gritted his teeth, glancing over at Mike and El. They were sitting a few chairs across from them, talking in these low, tense voices. Mike still looked.. well Max ran out of terms for it, like somebody had scooped everything out of him and left the shell behind. El kept leaning forward like she was trying to pull something out of him, but he wasn’t giving her much. Lucas sighed and turned back to Max.

 

“Honestly? I don’t know.” he admitted. “He’s just… sad? And freaked out. Will’s missing again, and El dumped him. It’s a lot.” Max nodded slowly, eyes drifting back to Mike. The kid looked miserable. She hadn’t realized how bad he was till now. she thought he was just being dramatic. Mike Wheeler being Mike Wheeler. But this wasn’t that.

 

She jumped when something clattered loudly down the hall. The sharp metallic echo bounced off the tiles. Max and Lucas snapped their heads toward the sound at the same time, wide eyed.

 

“What was-“

 

“I have no idea.” Lucas cut in, already tense.

 

The two exchanged a look and started edging down the hallway, footsteps barely brushing the tile. It was empty, eerily empty. The lights were low, most of them flickering like they couldn’t decide whether to stay on or not, and the whole corridor felt wrong for a hospital. Too quiet. Too still. Max swallowed hard and kept moving, Lucas right beside her. Lucas, of course, had already pulled out that stupid wrist rocket, holding it like he was about to take down a Demogorgon single handedly. Max scanned around for something that was actually useful. They stopped at a door pushed barely ajar. Lucas looked at her, wide eyed. Max just lifted a shoulder. She had no clue what they were walking into it could’ve been a patient dropping something, or something a whole lot worse. Lucas inhaled sharply, trying to hype himself up, then shoved the door open, wrist rocket up like he expected a monster to leap straight at his face. Max stayed tight beside him, she snagged a scalpel off the desk just as they passed. Better than nothing. They walked further in the room, it was empty, bed sheets rustled, like there had been a struggle.

 

The door suddenly slammed shut behind them. Both of them jolted, spinning around as a figure stepped out of the shadows. Max sort of recognized him, Eric Peterson. She had English with him last year. But he didn’t look anything like the kid she remembered. His smile was wrong. Too wide. Too forced. Too not alive. Like someone was wearing his face but didn’t actually understand how expressions worked. He walked toward them, slow and purposeful, his eyes fixed on them like they were prey.

 

“I’m afraid Mrs. Driscoll is long gone, she’s gone back home.” he rasped, his voice shredded and uneven, like it had been dragged across gravel before it ever left his throat.

 

“He’s flayed.” Lucas whispered, and yeah, Max had already figured that much. Lucas didn’t waste a second, he fired the wrist rocket straight at Eric’s eye. The rock smacked him hard, the kid letting out a strangled, guttural sound as he staggered back, one hand flying up to his face and the other bracing against the wall. Max darted forward, slicing his arm with the scalpel, just enough to make him recoil. She shoved past him and yanked the door open. Lucas sprinted after her, only to get tackled from the side, hitting the floor with a grunt. Max spun, heart hammering. Eric was on top of Lucas, veins crawling across half his face, eye bruised and bloodied.

 

Max didn’t hesitate, she slashed across his cheek, enough to knock him sideways, enough for Lucas to wriggle free. She grabbed Lucas by the wrist and dragged him out into the hall again, both of them panting, both of them shaking. And then they realized they weren’t alone. Another kid stood at the far end of the hallway. Older, maybe a junior, face slack and wrong, half covered in those same inky, branching veins. He took a slow step forward, and even though Lucas hadn’t fired at him, even though he wasn’t hurt, he reached up and dragged his fingers across one side of his face, remembering the pain.

 

“Ow…” he murmured, almost amused, like he was practicing the word.

 

“Shit..” Lucas muttered.