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1
It’s the middle of a school night, and Will can hear his mother and father fighting again.
Will silently pads over to his door, careful not to creak it open. As early as 8 years old, he’s gotten good at being quiet when absolutely necessary. One of the only games he’s been able to successfully play with his father. He lingers by the hallway as he observes the scene unfolding before him. The refrigerator light is the only source that illuminates his parents’ silhouettes. “Can you cut it out?” his mother seethes as she pries another beer bottle from Lonnie’s rough hands.
“You raised a pathetic son,” Lonnie sneers at her. “Did you see how uninterested he was at our game of catch today? I’m telling you, he isn’t a man.” Will curls in on himself slightly, ashamed.
Earlier in the day as he arrived home from school, Will was excited to show his mother the drawing he made during their art class. Ever since she got him that set of 120 crayons, he’s been pursuing art relentlessly. Piles of paper, whether new or used, were filled in with all the colors, from sunset orange to shamrock to purple pizzazz. Will never thought it was possible to have that many colors, and he wanted to spend all his time memorizing them and seeing what worked and what didn’t.
But then the moment he got off the school bus, his dad was waiting by the door with a fake smile plastered on his face and a baseball mitt in his hand. The moment the bus was out of plain sight, Lonnie forcibly tossed the ball at Will. “Today, you’re going to learn how to play catch like a big boy,” his father ordered. He reminded Will of a crueler version of his physical education teacher.
It had been an hour of tossing and catching miserably, Lonnie yelling at him tirelessly to get it right! until his mother arrived home with Jonathan. That was the only time his father gave up, although he threw the ball at Will’s stomach when no one else was looking and muttered a “useless son” to him before stepping inside.
“You shouldn’t have bought him those goddamn crayons, Joyce!” Lonnie shouts. They’ve taken the argument to the living room, but Will can still see them around the corner. “All he cares about now is what? Arts and crafts?”
“It’s not bad for him to be into art, Lonnie!” his mother shouts back. “He’s got the eye and the talent for it! If you could just see that—”
“All I see is a son who’s going to grow up a fag! ” Lonnie’s voice cracks at the slur, and Will sees him set his beer down the coffee table as he sits down on the couch and scrubs his face hard, as if frustrated. His mother has her hands on her hips, glaring down at him in a mixture of confusion and irritation. “Arts and crafts isn’t for a man, Joyce!” he exclaims, voice nothing but agonized. “My son…he’s a fucking fairy… ” he continues, followed by a sob.
Will feels a lump building in his throat. That’s enough watching for now. He does his best not to make a sound as he all but runs back to his room, feeling the tears fall down his face. In the back of his mind, he can hear Lonnie yelling at him. Stop crying, boy! No man sheds a tear like a little pussy!
As soon as he shuts the door, he crawls into his bed under the covers and does his best to fall asleep. Nothing works, though. He tosses and turns and tries to think of good things, but all his thoughts circle back to Lonnie’s disappointment; back to his father’s fear of him being a queer. He lets out a whimper at the constant reminder.
“Will?” A sleepy voice crackles from his Walkie Talkie. Will peaks out of his bed, realizing the antenna was extended and his private channel with Mike was still open. He grabs the Walkie from his nightstand. Maybe talking to Mike could help.
“Hi, Mike,” Will greets him, quiet and meek, trying to hide the sadness in his tone. “What’re you doing up?”
“I could say the same about you,” Mike replies easily. Stupid, Will thinks. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Will lies. “I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”
It’s silent before Mike speaks up again. “I know that’s not the entire truth, Will.” Mike’s always been intuitive that way. “Why can’t you sleep?”
Will sighs. It’s been three years of their friendship, and he knew better than to lie to Mike. Friends don’t lie was their motto, after all. “Mom and dad were fighting again because I can’t play catch properly with him.”
“What?” Mike says quizzically. “That’s just stupid! I can’t play catch properly with my dad either, but he doesn’t fight my mom about that!”
For a moment, Will’s envious of Mike and his parents. Mike’s dad wasn’t the most pleasant man to be around with, but he was way better than his own dad. “It’s because…he says it’s because I’m too interested in art,” he tries to explain.
A pause, and then, “That doesn’t make sense!” Mike argues. “What does you liking to draw have to do with how good you are at playing with a ball? That guy Brad from our class is on the baseball team, and his art project was awesome!”
Will purses his lips. He didn’t want to have to mention this to Mike, but he was his best friend. He had to know and understand. “It’s because my dad thinks art is for…for fairies. ”
“Will, hey…” Mike soothes. There’s a bit of rustling from the other end of the radio.
“He’s scared that I’m a fairy, Mike!” Will’s doing his best to hold back his tears. The last thing he needed was for anyone else in the house, much less his dad, crying.
Mike lets him cry for the next few minutes. Eventually, Will calms down enough to stop crying and breathe. “I’m sorry—”
“Will, listen to me,” Mike says sternly with a hint of gentleness. Will shuts himself up. “You’re not a fairy, okay? Your dad’s being an absolute stupidhead. Art has nothing to do with…with that!”
“Really?” Will hiccups, doubtful.
“Really,” Mike affirms. Will can picture his best friend nodding enthusiastically. “And your art is so good, Will. You don’t need to be good at ball when you have that sort of talent! You’re better than me, I suck at drawing and catching a ball!”
Will giggles. “Thanks, Mike. I just wish my dad didn’t have to say all those things.”
“Me too, Will,” Mike agrees. “But like I said, your dad is a stupidhead.” The nickname makes Will laugh harder, because it sounded like an insult for a 5 year-old, but Mike said it with such confidence, the way he did in their D&D campaigns.
“No one uses the insult stupidhead, Mike. I don’t even think that’s a word!”
“Who cares?” Mike giggles. “Why don’t we draw what a true stupidhead looks like tomorrow? If it can’t be a word, maybe it can be a picture!”
“I guess I’ll draw you, then!”
“Hey!” Mike whines, sounding mildly offended, but he laughs anyway. “Picture anything or anyone else but me, you big meanie!” Suddenly, Will pictures drawing his dad purposely looking ugly and ridiculous, and all at once his sadness melts away.
Eventually, their laughter dies down, and Will feels sleep wanting to take over his brain. “Thanks, Mike. I really appreciate it. And…I’m sorry for keeping you up.”
“It’s no problem,” Mike replies as he lets out a big yawn. “We better head to bed ‘cause we still have class tomorrow. I don’t wanna fall asleep in Mr. Clarke’s class.”
“Agreed,” Will mumbles. “Good night, Mike.” He moves to turn off his Walkie before Mike speaks up again.
“Wait!”
“Yeah?”
There’s a bit of heavy breathing on the other end, as if Mike’s taking his time to think. “Your dad shouldn’t be scared of anything, and that includes you,” he finally says sleepily. “But if it’s anything…I’m not scared of you, no matter what you do. Okay?”
“Okay,” Will breathes out, feeling a huge weight he didn’t even know he carried. “I’ll never be scared of you, too.”
“I’m glad,” Mike whispers. “Good night, Will.”
“Nighty night.” Will disconnects the channel, puts his Walkie on his bed and falls asleep with a sleepy smile on his face. Mike always knew how to make him feel better.
2
It’s been approximately six months since Will had seen the Upside Down, but he still feels like he’s running for his life.
Not literally, as in the physical sense. Rather, figuratively. A lot has changed since being rescued from another dimension. So much has changed that he’s spinning around in circles, running around and trying to find a sense of normalcy somehow, somewhere.
For one thing, the bullying toward him has changed. Instead of being called a fag or a fairy, he’s earned a new nickname.
Zombie Boy.
And instead of the nickname being thrown directly at his face, it’s everywhere else. Whispers in the hallway. Lingering stares in the classroom, at the back of his head. Notes slipped into his locker.
Will isn’t sure if it’s better now, or worse. Because everyone’s too afraid to approach him. One touch and he’ll turn you, someone would say. Maybe his brain’s all different now from being underground, another would laugh. Who knows what he’s brought back with him from the dead? He’s probably even crazier now.
(They’re not far off, Will thinks to himself. He’s been puking up slugs, having his world turn dark and cold and practically a carbon copy of the hell he had to survive for a week, and visiting a government lab to be a part of a super secret experiment that sounds like it would only be in a movie. He figures he should feel a little crazed.)
It’s not just his school experience that’s changed. His mother’s been fussier with him ever since he was released from the hospital, checking on him every 10 minutes and lingering around his room more than usual. There were some days when Will didn’t mind her presence; after all, he’s witnessed from the Upside Down how hysterical she behaved while he was gone. But it was also really suffocating, how much she was around him, afraid of losing him from her sight. It was the same with Jonathan, how he always seemed to push Will to talk to him, afraid that not talking automatically meant something was wrong.
Dustin and Lucas were no different either. They didn’t joke around as much as they used to, and it was glaringly obvious how careful they tried to be with their words and actions, as if scared to hurt him if they said or did something even the tiniest bit of insensitive. They also weren’t very subtle with the looks they sent Will’s way every time he was called to Hawkins Lab, concern and sadness overtaking the mask of indifference they tried to put up.
Almost everyone was walking eggshells around him, and he was sick of it.
“See you guys tomorrow!” Dustin calls out as he and Lucas chatter up Mike’s basement stairs. They’ve just finished planning their entry for the annual science fair, which they were to show Mr. Clarke the next day. That leaves Mike and Will alone to wait for Joyce to pick him up.
Mike’s tidying up the table and arranging the pillows that Dustin haphazardly threw all over the place while Will is sorting through his backpack for the extra math notes he’d taken for Mike the day before. As he opens his binder, a bright pink post-it note falls through.
“You’re looking extra deadly today, Zombie Boy!” The note reads in scrawny handwriting. “Make sure you don’t spread your zombie germs to the rest of the student body!”
“Hey, what is that?” Mike asks as he appears behind Will. He snatches the note from Will’s hand, and as he reads through it, his eyebrows furrow until it morphs into a bewildered expression. “What the hell is this note? Where did you get it from?”
Will gulps. “It doesn’t matter, Mike,” he exhales as he tries to get the note back. Mike is quick to tuck his hand away.
“It doesn’t matter? They’re calling you Zombie Boy!” Mike fumes, but immediately softens as Will flinches. “Is this the first time you’ve heard this?” Will’s silence and pursed lips gives Mike the answer he absolutely did not want to have. “Will…” he trails off, unknowing how to proceed.
“It doesn’t matter, because they’re not wrong. I did come back from the dead,” Will reminds him, eyes glassy. No, he sniffles. No crying.
“But that doesn’t give them the right to make fun of what you’ve been through!” Mike stammers.
“They don’t know what I’ve been through!” Will argues. “Mike, please. Just drop it, okay?” But Mike looks like he doesn’t want to drop it. Will sighs. “I’d rather have them just give me post-it notes and whispers than do what they did before. It’s better now.” His best friend looks at him, doubtful. “I’d rather…I’d rather they’d be scared of me than try to directly antagonize me. Because then…at least I’d be left alone.”
Mike considers him, then nods. Nonetheless, he crumples the paper and tosses it (or at least, attempts to) in the nearby trash can. They sit next to each other on the couch in companionable silence, and for the first time that day, Will felt peaceful.
“D-do you want to be alone, though?” Mike looks at Will, eyes shining in concern. It’s a look that somehow is so different from how everyone else looks at him; instead of looking at Will like he’s made of glass, so fragile that any moment he could break, Mike just looks at him plainly, as if he was still Will.
(As if he wasn’t afraid of him.)
“Sometimes,” Will admits. “I mean…when it comes to the bullies, yeah.” He remembers Troy and James and days where the Party were shoved to the ground, mud tracks marking their clothes. He remembers the one time he opened his locker and a glitter bomb went off, and he showed up to class with hues of blues and pinks all over his cheeks. It was never pleasant back then, but nowadays the most he had was audible laughter pointed at him from seemingly miles away.
“And what about…everyone else?” Mike prods him gently. The what about me? is unspoken between them, but deep down, Will just knows.
“Sometimes I want to be left alone,” Will concedes. “But…I like having you around all the time.” It’s because you’re not like the rest of them. Mike smiles at him brightly, and nudges his shoulders with one of Will’s own.
“I like having you around all the time, too.” Mike replies, and Will feels himself turning red slightly. “I’d have you here always, if you’d let me.”
I would, but my family wouldn’t, is what Will wants to say. But he doesn’t want to sound too eager for his best friend’s company, even when it was offered to him. So instead he says nothing, savoring in the moment for what it was. Tender. Peaceful. Warm. Like home.
When he eventually has to leave the Wheelers’ house and return to his own room, there’s a fleeting moment where Will feels cold, shivers down his spine as he pictures vines and cobwebs and monsters. As he absentmindedly opens his binder to start his homework, a new post-it note slips out to the ground, this time a light blue.
“Those assholes don’t need to worry if you’re really Zombie Boy—” the note reads in surprisingly neat handwriting. “—because zombies need brains, and that’s something they don’t have. So cheer up, okay? - Mike :)”
He thumbs over the note and smiles softly, sticking it on his desk where he can see, a gentle reminder for him to see on the daily.
He doesn’t have any visions for the rest of the night or the following days after that.
3
Max Mayfield is certainly a force to be reckoned with, and it takes a while to get used to her presence in the Party.
It’s not that Will doesn’t like her, per say. He does. Anyone who can beat Dustin in Dig Dug automatically earns his respect, even if it was a girl (he tries to get past his father’s dumb misogynistic views, he knows girls are just as capable at being the best in video games like boys are).
She’s pretty, sarcastic, and downright cool. Will’s never known a girl who skateboards, reads comic books (and not the lame Archie comics either, real superhero comics), and has an awesome music taste. And the fact that Lucas like likes her while she herself isn’t repulsed by him or the rest of the group is good. Really good.
There’s just two problems: 1) she and Mike have this sort of frenemy-type-of-relationship going on, and 2) Will’s pretty sure she’s scared of him.
The first problem obviously isn’t his own, and it is a pretty small one, but it annoys Mike, and to some extent it annoys Will, too. Maybe it’s because they’re so similar, Will thinks. They’re both kind of mean when they want to be. They make the same moves in almost all the arcade games. They may or may not have a rivalry in science class because they somehow keep getting the same grades.
The second problem, however, makes him nervous.
He knew how involved she became with their whole issue with the Upside Down (Will has to admit, he’s still kind of mad at Lucas for telling her without his permission). And he remembers the look on her face every time she’s caught him after an episode. Confused. Maybe a bit disgusted? And unmistakably terrified.
“What’s wrong with him?” he recalls her asking during that Halloween night.
Lots of things were wrong with him. He knew that, he’s always known that. But he didn’t need a reminder about that, nor did he need someone else to look at him in any way that gave off the impression of fear.
The group was currently at the arcade, save for Eleven who was still on cabin lockdown. Mike had been mopey the entire evening over it, because (in the words of Dustin) he wanted to “show off his amazing arcade skills to his girlfriend.” Dustin had said “girlfriend” in a teasing, sing-song manner that had Mike extra grouchy for the evening.
It was a shame. Will missed his best friend, even if he was still there. But Mike’s thoughts were more preoccupied with Eleven nowadays. Which was fine and understandable, really. Mike having a girlfriend was inevitable, because Mike was attractive and smart and so caring and all things good that of course he would get one. It was even better that it was a girl like El, who was kind and brave and pretty.
(But Will’s had a lot of realizations these past few months, the biggest thing being that he felt something for Mike. Something more than what he felt for his other friends, something like a crush. Being in Mike’s presence was always a comfort to Will, but lately being around him gave him butterflies even over the tiniest details. Being around Mike had always grounded him, but recently it also got him nervous and excited, giddy over whatever the two of them were planning to do.
He first attributed that to the attention Mike’s given him as his best friend, but then he thinks about the light that he saw in his mind when Mike talked to him in that shed; the happy memory that washed over him if only for a brief second. The best thing Mike (and Will) has ever done.
He thinks about how much detail he’s paid attention to Mike as of late, the way his hair became softer and fluffier as he grew, and how desperately Will’s thought about running his own hands through it. He thinks about the way Mike’s freckles somehow became highlighted over his face, a sprinkle of constellations that Will wants to trace over. He thinks about the many smiles on Mike’s soft lips; the forced smile in pictures, the cocky smile, the genuine smile, and how beautiful Mike really was in any expression, anyway.
So yeah, it’s not just a simple craving for attention as best friends. Will Byers definitely has something for Mike Wheeler.)
He shakes off his train of thought as he watches Lucas lose yet another round of PacMan, Max teasing him relentlessly. To his right, Mike and Dustin have engaged in an air hockey battle (Dustin was losing).
“Hey Will, wanna give PacMan a go?” Lucas asks, gesturing towards the machine. “Maybe you can beat Max’s score.” Will glances at Max, who’s chewing on her lip and seemingly avoiding eye contact with Will. A flurry of panic suddenly washes over him, and he needs to get away.
“I actually just wanted a drink. I’ll be right back, you guys keep playing,” Will says hurriedly, giving Lucas a (hopefully) reassuring smile. Lucas shrugs and turns back to the game, cracking his knuckles and turning his neck for another round.
Will goes out of the arcade, hands in his pockets as he stares up to the sky and tries to even out his breathing. Nobody’s out there with him. He’s alone for a few seconds until someone opens the door.
“Hey,” Mike says, carefully trudging over to stand beside Will. “You okay?”
And because Will has never lied to Mike at all yet, he replies, “No. Not really.” For a while, neither of them say anything. Will turns to face his best friend, whose face is illuminated by the red and yellow lights of the arcade sign. Effortlessly beautiful.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
Will sighs, because he isn’t sure if he wants to. But he guesses it’s good to let someone know. “I think I make Max nervous.”
Mike looks contemplative, as if this information did not necessarily surprise him. “In fairness, you did meet her when you were practically possessed.” It was not the response Will was expecting, and he huffs out a laugh.
“I know, it’s just…it’s been a while since that happened. And come on, Mike, I don’t make friends with girls. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a girl not be repulsed by me for once.” His best friend makes a face, as if to say what do you mean girls are repulsed by you?
“Girls aren’t repulsed by you, you know. El isn’t. That girl you danced at the Snow Ball with isn’t.” Will thinks Mike’s tone sours at the mention of his dancing partner, but it’s probably just wishful thinking.
“But El and I aren’t really friends yet, and that girl called me Zombie Boy anyway,” he argues. “Max hangs out with us a lot now. I don’t know how I can show her I’m not that scary. At least…not anymore.” Will honestly doesn’t know what he expects Mike to do, because this wasn’t really his problem, and he himself was sort of repulsed by Max. “Look, it’s probably just me being stupid. And don’t take this the wrong way, okay? I like Max, even if you don’t. And I want Lucas to be happy.”
Mike looks incredulous then. “I don’t not like Max,” he says with conviction. Will sends him a dubious look, and he rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I’m sure Max will come around, alright? She got sucked into our whole shit unexpectedly, and maybe she just needs time to process it all.” Will’s a bit confused by how Mike’s defending Max, but he considers what he’s saying.
It probably was hard to approach a person you barely know, much less be friends with a person who was literally an interdimensional monster’s puppet for a period of time. The whole thing was insane. “I guess,” Will relents.
Mike hums, presumably happy he was able to get through to Will. After a few more seconds of staying outside with him, he asks, “Well, I’m gonna go back inside. You coming with? We still have time before the arcade closes for the night.”
Will turns to look back at the stars. “In a bit. The fresh air’s nice.” Mike nods, turning to leave, but then approaching Will to grip his shoulder reassuringly.
“Thanks for telling me,” Mike says with a soft smile, which Will returns with as much sincerity as he could. He goes back inside, leaving Will alone once again to breathe in the peacefulness of the night. To once again be able to remind himself that he was in the real world, that he was free from the Mind Flayer’s possession.
When he returns, Max surprisingly approaches him, hands fidgeting but offering him a small smile. “Hey, Will,” she greets him. “Do you wanna play a round of Dig Dug with me? I think you’re the most worthy of knowing my tricks.” She winks.
For a moment, Will is shook at the sudden change of demeanor. He looks to Mike, who’s gazing back at him with a knowing smile and a shrug, as if to say, it wasn’t me! (It so clearly was.)
“Sure,” Will nods, and Max giddily grabs his hand and drags him to the game. They’re together for the rest of their time at the arcade, and even though there were instances where Max winced slightly beside him, things between them became ten times better.
And it goes unmentioned, but as Will catches Mike smiling approvingly at the two of them with the redhead smiling sheepishly back at him, he just knows. When they make eye contact, a silent conversation passes between them. Thank you, Mike.
His best friend’s eyes sparkle in a way that makes Will’s insides flutter. Anytime.
(If he’s blushing all the way home from that sweet gesture, Jonathan makes no comment about it.)
4
California’s an entirely different world on its own.
It’s hotter, for one thing. Lenora Hills in November feels like Hawkins in September; the sun’s still shining brightly and only a handful of people actually looked like they were cold. But there was also so much going on, even in a city like Lenora Hills, where it’s allegedly “smaller” than the bigger cities like Los Angeles and San Francisco. Roller rinks, a mall with a built-in arcade, and even disco clubs.
Everything was so different, and even if it was a far better environment than Hawkins, Will can’t bring it in himself to enjoy the change one bit.
His family had settled in quickly, though Will didn’t like how his family was behaving. His mother threw herself into her new job the moment she had the chance. Will thinks it’s her way of coping with the loss of Bob and Hopper—who both quite literally died in front of her, so he’s learned—and also considers the fact that she now has to raise three kids instead of two. He understands her, but it doesn’t mean he likes it. He kind of misses when she used to fuss over him so much.
Jonathan, on the other hand, has been leaving the house a lot. More than what was Jonathan-level acceptable. He’s been hanging out a lot with his new friend, Argyle, who Will isn’t sure he quite likes. Because while the long-haired man was nice and fairly easy to talk to, Will’s noticed how Jonathan’s been coming home with red-rimmed, bleary eyes and reeking too much of the cologne Nancy bought for him before moving.
(Will isn’t sure if Jonathan knows that he knows. He also isn’t sure if his mother is aware of what’s been going on with him, either.)
El’s the one that’s pretty hard to read, which in Will’s defense is because she was always with Mike back in Hawkins. He hadn’t been able to form a proper friendship (or in his case, sibling-ship) with her because they didn’t have much to talk about.
It’s a fleeting, unhealthy way of thinking, but Will suspects El might be afraid of him. Just like mostly everyone else was. And no, he didn’t have a logical reason on why she would be.
He doesn’t really know how to approach the situation. Normally, he would resort to making conversations with his mother and Jonathan so that he could somehow include El in it. But it was difficult to do so. If not at the dinner table, El mostly stayed in her room. School was no better, either, even if they were lucky enough to share all their classes together.
He thinks of calling Mike in these trying times, because he was El’s boyfriend and all, but lately that’s been a boundary he’s been too hesitant to cross.
Things have definitely soured between them over the summer, and though they were pretty much “made up” (at least, that’s what it looked like to Will), they both knew that there was some lingering tension in their friendship. They hadn’t had the time to be able to talk about their argument nor talk about what happened at Castle Byers that night in the rain.
In the month since they’ve moved to California, Mike has only called Will once. And El’s received two letters already, the second one had just come in earlier in the day.
He doesn’t want to be jealous. He has no right to be. El is Mike’s girlfriend, of course she’d be his priority.
But it hurts, because it became all the more clear that Mike was Will’s best friend more than Will was Mike’s best friend. If that even made any sense. It hurts, because Will misses Mike more than he misses anything else in Hawkins, and is starting to think he doesn’t matter as much to him anymore.
It hurts because Will’s finally figured out how in love he is with his best friend. It hurts even more, because Will knows he can’t have Mike that way, and at the very least hoped he could have Mike as his best friend all the same. But that hope is slowly dimming, and he hates it. Hates himself.
He’s sitting alone in his room, doodling his sketchbook and trying his best not to think of Mike or El or anything that could make him remotely sad.
All of a sudden, the phone rings, and a few seconds later, his mother calls out, “Will! It’s Mike on the phone for you!”
Will deliberately ignores the way his heart automatically starts racing and how his overall demeanor just seems to perk up. He walks as slowly as he can, footsteps heavy, and does his best to look casual to his mother as he takes the phone away from her. He clears his voice like a fucking dork and says, “Hello?”
“Hey, Will!” Mike greets him, as if nothing’s changed, as if it hasn’t been the second time in over a month since he’s last bothered to talk to him. “How’s everything?”
“Hi, Mike,” Will says happily. A small part of him aches to go full interrogation mode and question why Mike hasn’t called as much, but the larger, more rational part of him says he’s being stupid. Too clingy. Unnatural. Don’t scare him off. “Things are good here. High school’s hard, though. Lenora Hills High is too overwhelming.”
“I can imagine,” Mike hums. Will hears some shuffling and what sounds like a guitar in the background. “How’s everyone else in your family holding up? Your mom? Jonathan? And…El?”
Will suddenly feels uneasy with how the conversation suddenly shifts to someone else who isn’t him or Mike. “Mom’s busy. Jonathan…he’s fine, I guess. I don’t see him much these days. You should probably ask Nancy. And well…El’s doing okay, too.” At least, that’s what he’s gathered by how much time he’s spent with her.
“Really? Because…she told me that she’s having a hard time talking to you, Will.” Mike sounds disappointed, and Will feels a semblance of shame in his chest.
“Oh,” Will replies stupidly. “What exactly did she tell you?”
“She just said that you and her don’t really talk much, and she doesn’t know why. She…she thinks you hate her or something. And I know…I remember that you kinda called her stupid once, so…”
Will feels a spark of irritation, because he remembers exactly when he said that. Of course, he didn’t mean to insult his now-foster sister. The fact that Mike is bringing that up despite nothing else from that horrible conversation just makes things feel worse.
“I-I don’t hate her,” Will exhales. He doesn’t want to snap at Mike, not when he doesn’t know when his best friend would call him again. Mike called him. That has to mean something. “It’s hard…because I think she’s afraid of me.”
There’s a pause at the other end, but Will can hear Mike’s breath catch. “Why would you think she’s afraid of you?”
Will shrugs, but then remembers Mike can’t see him. “I mean, I’m practically the reason she keeps having to face those monsters in the Upside Down, so…” he trails off, letting Mike finish that statement.
There’s a sigh, and Will’s heart momentarily drops, because he didn’t want Mike to be upset with him. But then when he speaks, his voice is gentle. Soothing. The same voice that has always reassured Will without fail. “You shouldn’t think like that, Will. El isn’t afraid of you at all. Well, at least I don’t think she is. But if anything, she definitely doesn’t hate you. You guys should definitely try and talk to each other, I think you’ll both end up having a good time.”
A bit of shuffling, and the sound of the guitar stops. It’s completely silent now on Mike’s end save for a bit of static. “I’ll try, Mike. I’m sorry for worrying you about this.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Will. I just want you and her to be friends, is all. I mean…you’re practically siblings now, but you know what I mean.” Will chuckles, because Mike’s stammering was fucking endearing. “Anyway, just do that, alright? What else is new at Lenora Hills?”
They continue making small talk. Will learns more about Lucas being a part of the basketball team and about the new D&D club that they all decided to join. A small part of him is jealous and misses playing the game with the Party, but he’s glad they’re all getting back into it. He’s glad Mike is getting back into it. He tells Mike stuff he’s learned about California, how he’s joined the art club and was branching out with his artworks, and how excited he was to visit the beach.
Their conversation is cut short by Mrs. Wheeler yelling for Mike, and Will thinks he hears his best friend groan. “I’ve gotta go, Will. I hope you and El can talk, because she really wants to talk to you. Maybe you can bring up the topic of comic books? She’s really been into Wonder Woman lately, I think.”
There’s a small part of Will that doubts that, but he’ll try. For El and himself. For Mike. “I promise, Mike. I hope we can talk again soon.” I miss you so much goes unsaid.
“One more thing, Will?” Mike says, just before Will hangs up the phone. “You’re not the reason El keeps fighting those monsters. The monsters themselves are the reason El keeps having to fight, okay? Don’t think like that.”
It’s been quite a while since Will’s heard an affirmation like that from Mike, and it awakens a newfound hope in himself. “Okay.”
“Good. Gotta go, Will. Bye!” The dial tone rings in Will’s ear, and he slowly puts the phone down, a small smile blooming on his face, despite the pesky part of him saying he only called you because of El, he doesn’t actually want to talk to you, stop being so goddamn stupid, he never even told you when you guys were gonna talk again soon.
He grabs a comic book from his own collection and makes his way over to El’s room and knocks on her door, despite it actually being cracked open three inches. “Hey, El.” He waves to her, hesitant. “Can I come in?”
El turns around from her desk where she was brushing her hair. “Hi, Will,” she greets him nervously. “Yes, you can come in.”
Will sits on her bed, revealing the comic book. It’s the latest issue of X-men. “Wanna read this with me?” He asks tentatively. “There’s a lot of people with cool powers in this one.” El visibly perks up and nods, making her way over to sit beside Will.
They spend over an hour reading and talking about the X-men, ending with El having a full list of comic books she could borrow from Will and buy to build her own collection. Before he leaves for the night, El grabs his wrist.
“I was afraid of you,” El confesses. Will suddenly feels himself go rigid. Did El overhear his conversation with Mike? Was she spying on them? “I told Mike in my last letter to him I was.” It was creepy, the way she answered his internal question, but then he decided to brush it off. “But he told me you are one of the best people to talk to.”
And fuck it, Will falls in love with Mike Wheeler just a little bit harder, their own issues set aside even just for a while. “And now?”
“I’m not scared of you anymore. You’re pretty cool. Really…bitchin’” El smiles toothily that it makes Will’s heart melt.
“I’m glad. And just for the record…I don’t hate you. You’re pretty bitchin’ yourself,” Will says, his own smile widening. They share a laugh, and El bids him goodnight.
The last thing he thinks of before falling asleep is Mike’s gentle voice, and “you are one of the best people to talk to.” And for the moment, Will lets himself believe that things between him and Mike were still okay.
5
“Maybe all of this is happening for a reason.” That’s what Mike told him once, back when Will was first under the Mind Flayer’s mercy in the deep trenches of his mind.
“What if he spies back?” Will asked him then, trembling. What he didn’t tell Mike was that he already was spying back, and it was taking everything out of Will to try and stop him.
(But he has never been the hero, not like how Bob was in his dreams, not like in D&D. No, he had been weak. He was always weak, if he kept getting himself into trouble like this.)
“We won’t let him.” Mike’s smooth, cold hand was so comforting against Will’s rough, sweaty one, and for that brief moment, Will believed him, that everything was going to be okay. The look on his best friend’s face was the same as it always was when undoubtedly brave and determined, a fire in his eyes as if ready to take on his next mission. A guiding light, a true Paladin. The heart of the Party. Will’s heart.
That same expression remains on Mike’s face now despite having a gun pointed at his head. Despite Will’s hand being the one on the trigger.
The Mind Flayer (or rather, Vecna/One/Henry Creel, Will knows now) was back in his head, this time stronger and less merciful. He had been fucking even more with Will’s mind, blocking out his memories until Will himself felt his head empty out more by the second, until he wasn’t really Will.
Of course, Mike was the first one to notice. And of course, because of that fact, Mike had to be the next one among them to die.
They’d been split into groups going around Hawkins, trying to look for clues regarding Vecna’s whereabouts. Mike had been adamant on sticking by Will’s side, uncaring of who was with them. Will supposes that it was a cruel joke, how they were with El, Nancy, and Jonathan. Family to both Mike and Will.
Soon-to-be witnesses of Mike’s death, if Will couldn’t help it.
It was even a crueler joke, because Will didn’t deserve anything good, that they were at the now-abandoned playground of Hawkins Elementary School. The same place he met his best friend and eventual love of his life.
(Will, deep inside his own head in all his fucked-up thinking, hopes Vecna has no use for him anymore after he’s killed Mike. Maybe he’d turn the gun to his own head and shoot himself, too.)
They were at a stand-off now. Will was wielding one of Nancy’s guns, the safety seconds away from being off, a bullet just a few inches away from hitting Mike’s skull. Mike had his arms out, a signal to the rest of the group not to go any closer to them. Nancy and Jonathan were doing their best to keep still, shaky breaths and cries the only audible thing in their surroundings. El was trying desperately to get in Will’s head.
“Will, please…this isn’t you!” Jonathan cries. “Don’t do this.” He’s holding onto Nancy for dear life, hands between them pale from the lack of circulation. They looked as white as ghosts.
“It really isn’t Will,” Mike says, so sure of himself. “El, anything? Can you reach Vecna?”
From a distance, El shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. “It’s like he’s blocking me from seeing Will. I-I can’t even see Will in there anymore. It’s just his body and your body and…” she chokes, kneeling to the ground, helpless.
The real Will, trapped in his own mind, punches the air, as if banging against the door, begging to be let out. “Let me go!” he screams. “Let Mike go!”
On the outside world, Mike swallows a lump in his throat, eyes shining with that same look that never fails to bring Will some sense of comfort. “Will,” Mike begins. “I don’t know if you can hear me in there. I really hope you do.”
“I can hear you, Mike!” Real-Will screams. He feels Vecna’s powers pulling him back, trying to keep him frozen in place. The message is clear: do not interfere.
“There’s been a lot of things I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Mike continues. “I just wish…I just wish it didn’t have to be under these circumstances. In movies, this would be the part where you say ‘any last words?’” He chuckles as if it was funny, as if trying to lighten the mood, trying to ignore the fact that he could possibly die.
“Mike, please just get out of there! Leave me here to die!”
Mike clears his throat. “I know that if you were with me now, you’d probably laugh with me, even if it isn’t even funny. I also know that…if you were with me—with us, now…you’d be hating yourself for how much trouble you think you’ve put everyone through.”
Tears start welling up in Will’s eyes. He doesn’t know if his actual body is doing the same.
“You would tell me that everyone was scared of you,” Mike continues, voice wavering slightly. “And you’re not far off. I mean…look at what’s going on,” he gestures to the gun at his forehead, too casual for his own good with that silly small smile on his face.
“Mike!” Nancy whisper-yells. Mike turns and glares back at her, a silent conversation passing between them. He realizes Jonathan’s snuck a few feet away behind Will, ready to pounce on him as if they were play-wrestling again. Like before. Nancy’s pursing her lips, mascara running down her face.
When Mike turns back around, tears are shining in his eyes, too. But he doesn’t look afraid of Will at all. Brown eyes stare into Will’s own, and even possessed, Will’s mesmerized. Even at the brink of death, Mike looks like a goddamn angel.
“I know that a lot has changed between us. I know that I said we were friends…best friends, even if I haven’t acted like it, not like how you deserve. And I know our number one rule is friends don’t lie—” he steals a small glance at El, who sends him a watery smile and a nod. “—but I’ve broken that rule for far too long.”
Will doesn’t know why Vecna’s taking his time with this. Does he want to draw out everyone’s suffering?
“Because the truth is…” Mike audibly gulps. “I see you more than just my best friend, Will.”
He what?
“The truth is that I feel too many things about you that normal best friends don’t usually feel. Not how I feel with Dustin or Lucas or Max. And it’s different…so, so different from what I felt for El.” Mike’s openly crying now, his face getting redder by the minute.
“N-not possible,” Will murmurs, realizing where this was going.
“The truth is that…I’m in love with you.”
There’s a sob that emanates from Will’s throat, and by the looks on Mike’s face, Will’s body had done the same reaction.
“I know this is shit timing, and I want you to know how sorry I am for everything. For treating you like shit, for lying to you…for falling in love with you when I know you deserve better than me.”
“That’s not true!” Will yells, face crumpling. He feels his surroundings begin to shake, and there’s a sudden burst of energy in his chest.
“I’m only saying all of this now, unashamed, because I know you’re listening. And th-this may be the last time I ever get to talk to you again.”
He can feel Vecna trying to pull Will back under. “Stop it!” Will yells in his mind, feeling a force of his own fighting…whatever Vecna was trying to do.
Mike steps even closer, and now his forehead touches the front of the gun. “I love you so much, Will. If you can still hear me…if you can still fight, then I’m going to be here.”
“You will be my own,” Vecna declares. “You and everything else. Your mind, your body, your heart. All mine.”
"If you can’t fight him, then I’m still going to be here.” The sound of Mike’s voice isn’t fearful, but so sad, yet so understanding. “If you have to kill me…then so be it. But I want you to know…”
“You can’t stop what’s about to happen, William,” Vecna sneers, one final blow pulling Will down. Will feels his head heavy, losing himself to the darkness of his mind. “It’s over, now.”
Mike takes Will’s free hand in his own, and squeezes. “I’m never going to be scared of you. Not now, not ever. ”
Will sees Mike’s brown eyes one last time, red-rimmed, but so full of love. A rush of clarity comes through to him, memories of Mike: every hug, every look, every reassurance, every emotion he’s felt every time Mike was near him.
His mind and his body wasn’t his own right now. But his heart…
…his heart was with Mike. The boy who was unafraid of him unconditionally. The boy who loves him. The boy he loves back.
He feels some sort of power surging through him, throwing Vecna off guard, and light shines once more, all his memories flooding back to him. It’s so bright that he has to close his eyes, but when he opens them…
He’s in the real world once more.
“Mike,” Will cries, pulling the safety on the gun and tossing it to the ground before throwing himself in Mike’s arms. He feels Mike snake around him, hugging back so hard that Will can’t breathe, but right now he can’t find it in himself to care. El and Jonathan and Nancy eventually join in, all their fears slowly going away.
The fight isn’t over yet. Vecna was still out there, probably angry, already planning his next strike. And Will knows they should be worried. Stressed. Afraid. Still looking for answers to questions, like how did he manage to get out on his own?
But then Mike presses a kiss, ever so subtle, to his forehead when they’re buried within the hug, and whatever Will felt in the moment melted into something else. Something right and good. Something like coming home.
+1
“Mike’s being weird today,” Dustin observes from the dining room table. Said person had jogged down the stairs to the basement abruptly, offering no further explanation.
“Mike is weird everyday,” Max sasses, then pauses, considering. “But you’re right. He’s being extra weird today.”
The comment has El snickering and Will smirking at the rest of his friends while adjusting his tie in the mirror.
It was a beautiful evening, and the Party had convened at the Wheelers’ house for pictures before going together for their senior prom. They all had matching corsages and boutonnieres for the occasion after agreeing to all go as stags, since it was only Max and Lucas who were “socially acceptable” dates.
“Shit, you don’t think there’s anything wrong, do you?” Lucas asks, a bit frantic. “He’s been jumpy all fucking day. It’s kind of freaking me out.”
“Quiet, too,” El chimes in. “It is kind of un-Mike like. Maybe we should ask him?”
“Hey, Wheeler!” Max shouts, eager for another opportunity to yell at Mike. “What’s up your scrawny ass today?”
There’s a crash followed by a curse of AH, SHIT! that has everyone perking up in alarm. After a beat, Mike finally replies. “Nothing that isn't up yours, Maxine!" he sasses back. Max grumbles, crossing her arms. “I’m fine, I just need to do something! You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up later!”
The rest of the group looks at each other weirdly, because it was unusual for Mike to be keeping something from them for no reason at all. “You guys go,” Will offers. “I can stay behind and wait for him.”
“Oh my god,” Max whines. “You and Mike have something planned, don’t you?”
“Jesus,” Dustin breathes out. “Byers, you better spill.”
Will shrugs. “Beats me.”
It was mostly the truth. Will didn’t know what Mike was planning, if he was planning anything at all. What he did know was that the date of their senior prom coincidentally fell on their six-month anniversary. (Not that any of the Party actually knew that.)
“You’re freaking us all out man!” Lucas exclaims. “If you’re hiding something—”
“I’m not hiding anything!” Mike insists, voice cracking. Will giggles. Adorable. “Just go! I promise nothing’s wrong!”
The others didn’t look convinced, but one glance at Will had El hiding a smirk of her own. “Come on, guys. We should trust Mike. Besides, I’m sure Will will radio us if anything’s wrong, right Will?” He looks at her, and she offers him a wink.
Will’s convinced El has psychic powers. Or maybe she spied quickly on Mike when no one was watching, and knew what was up. “Channel’s online and ready,” he affirms, waving his SuperComm.
They eventually relent, leaving happily to go to the dance. When they’re out of clear sight, Will makes his way down to the basement. “Mike…?” He pauses, enchanted by what’s before him.
Yellow Christmas lights fill the basement, offering a dim and cozy atmosphere. All the furniture is rearranged to make space for a makeshift mini dance floor. The soft sound of Whitney Houston plays in the background.
His boyfriend is there, front and center, holding a hand out to Will. He looks absolutely stunning in his black suit, and his long hair doesn’t have much product, soft waves curling in all the right places. It reminds Will of a fluffy cloud. “May I have this dance?” Mike grins cheekily.
Will’s convinced that there was nothing else in his life—no bullies, no Mind Flayer, no Vecna, no government—that could kill him, at least not in the way Mike Wheeler could.
He takes his hand, and Mike pulls him close. He smells like hot chocolate with marshmallows, so intoxicating that Will brings himself as close as he can. “What’s with all this, huh?” he asks, voice low.
“You know what today is,” Mike smiles at him. “Wanted to get a chance to dance with you tonight alone.” He dips Will by surprise. The motion was so sudden yet so romantic that Will couldn’t help but blush. “You look beautiful, by the way.”
Will literally feels himself burning bright scarlet. This boy was truly going to be the death of him. “I could say the same about you.” They sway for a bit as the song continues on loop, basking in the silence and the peace that fell before them. Will puts his head on Mike’s shoulder and marvels how perfectly he fits in the space between that and his neck.
“You gave everyone quite a fright, you know,” Will whispers as they keep swaying. “And you’re gonna keep scaring them the later we show up.”
Mike’s quiet for a moment, running his hands up and down Will’s waist that it makes him feel a bit sleepy. “And are you scared of them being scared?” he whispers back. “Are you afraid of staying here with me all night long? ” It’s a mostly teasing tone, but Will detects a hint of insecurity.
He pulls back, grabbing Mike’s hands and bringing him in for a kiss. Soft, sweet, and reassuring. “I’m never scared of being with you,” he replies as they part, with as much earnestness he could muster. They bring their foreheads together, just breathing in each other, all happy and unwilling to let the moment end.
“I’m glad,” Mike says. “Because there’s no one else I’d rather be with.” In the distance, the SuperComm makes a noise, the sound of someone asking where they were. Will knows that soon, they’d have to leave and go to their friends. But he lets himself savor this time just a little longer. And by the look on Mike’s face, Will knows the other feels the same.
He gazes at Will, eyes twinkling from the lights, all the adoration and love he could muster poured into his stare. It’s the same look he’s given Will for most of his life. It’s warmth and awe and safety and everything Will never thought he deserved.
Mike is the one thing Will never thought he’d deserve.
It’s a home—his home, with love. Without fear.
(And Will wouldn’t have it any other way.)