Archive of Our Own ^beta

Will was everywhere and nowhere.

Faintly, as though from a great distance, he could make out the murmur of voices. They weren’t loud enough for him to decipher the actual words, but were identifiable as human speech.

They flitted across the air like whispers, soft and light.

At first.

He soon became aware that the utterances were slowly but steadily rising in volume, until they had made their way well past a normal speaking tone, becoming shouts.

Yet Will still couldn’t decode what the voices were saying.

He felt like he was floating, an autumn leaf being lazily carried with the wind.

Where was he?

He tried to open his eyes and was surprised when he struggled. It was like they were glued shut, causing the simple action to require considerable effort.

Immediately, he was assaulted by the bright fluorescent light hanging overhead and he squeezed his eyes shut to avoid being blinded.

As though that act had triggered it, Will felt a lurch in his stomach, like reaching the drop in a rollercoaster. He felt as if he had been dumped unceremoniously on his back and his consciousness finally caught up with his surroundings.

He was laying on something durable yet soft. As opposed to the weightless feeling of before, there now seemed to be an invisible dumbbell sitting on Will’s chest. It pressed down on him, making it hard to draw a breath.

He made to call out for help, but his mouth felt dry and coarse, like sandpaper. All he could manage was a soft whine.

That seemed to do the trick though. At the sound, the shouting voices instantly cut off, replaced by a sudden, tense silence that was broken within seconds.

“WILL!”

Will sucked in a breath and suddenly felt wetness behind his eyelids. He knew that if he opened them now, tears would distort his vision.

That was his mom’s voice.

He suddenly didn’t care if he cried, didn’t care if anyone saw. His mom wouldn’t judge him for that and he needed to see her.

His eyes shot open and, true to his prediction, the image of the hanging light swam over him.

He took the time to try to moisten his lips before calling out again.

“Mom?” he choked out. His voice sounded hoarse, rough.

“Will!”

Colors flashed above him and within a few seconds, he had blinked the tears away, causing the dark splotch of brown to refocus and become his mother’s hair. It was all he could see as she brushed her mouth against his forehead, checking for a temperature like she did when Jonathan and he had fevers.

Eventually, she drew back and Will could see enough to focus on her face. Despite her own wet eyes, she was smiling, looking haggard, but relieved.

“Oh, Will, honey!” Joyce exclaimed, sounding breathless. Her voice was croaky, like it got when she had been crying. She moved forward again and began brushing his shoulders as though to remove invisible dust. “I’m so glad you’re awake! We were all so worried! How are you feeling? Do you have a headache? Do you need anything? Water? I can get-”

A throaty noise pushed its way through his lungs, resembling a strange, choked giggle. Will couldn’t help it. This was so in character for Joyce Byers.

The sound seemed to reassure his mother and her smile widened. She reached her hand out and brushed his fringe back from his forehead and Will was suddenly reminded of another time when he had awoken in a hospital room.

She must have seen the similarity too because he saw her face suddenly cloud over.

“Oh, Will,” she murmured sadly. “I’m so sorry. You always seem to end up here.”

Any warmth that might have still clung to Will from seeing his mother’s overprotectiveness in action dissipated. He tried to offer her a reassuring smile.

“At least I’m okay now,” he croaked out. He stopped to clear his throat before continuing. “I’ll get better.”

It was what she often told him after he had a nightmare or came home from school with a new bruise.

He thought repeating her own words back to her would make her smile, but she frowned and Will noticed she was biting her lip, as though debating whether to say something.

“It might not be that easy this time, honey,” she whispered forlornly. Then, as though realizing how morose she sounded, she gave her head a little shake and attempted a smile. “We’ll talk it through, okay?”

Will wondered what exactly they had to talk through and as he thought over this latest development, he had a startling realization.

He still didn’t know what had happened to land him here.

He clenched his eyes shut, scrunching up his face in thought, but any progress he might have made was prevented by the sharp pangs of a headache shooting up his neck and pulsing in his temples.

It hurt to think.

Will gave up and pursued an alternative route.

“Mom?” he managed, blinking rapidly, wincing when that only seemed to amplify the stinging in his head. Will swore he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. “Why…why am I here? What…what happened?”

Will saw his mother's head pull back sharply, a surprised expression slipping onto her face.

“You-?” she cut herself off, hesitating, biting down on her lip hard, with a force that would have made Will wince sympathetically if he wasn’t so occupied with his own pain. Despite her visible apprehension, she continued. “You don’t remember?”

“I-” Will started before being forced to stop, the rest of his words being lost to a coughing fit. His chest ached too like it had been repeatedly kicked (a feeling the bullies at school made sure he was acquainted with). In lieu of continuing, he opted to shake his head.

Before his mother could respond, another voice spoke up.

“That’s common.”

Will’s eyes snapped to the space behind his mother, noting the man now obscuring the doorway. His white lab coat and the clipboard in his hand identified him as a doctor.

Joyce, who had turned to identify the speaker, let out a sigh, relaxing further as his response registered.

"It is?" she clarified anxiously, her hands twitching, mimicking her eyes, which now scrutinized the doctor’s expression.

“Quite,” the doctor assured her, nodding slightly. His gaze now focused on Will and he resisted the urge to squirm under the man’s intense scrutiny. Will was reminded of Dustin studying rocks he had found near the quarry. Despite his discomfort, Will found himself unable to look away. Feeling as though he had something to prove, he maintained eye contact with the doctor, hazel locking with blue.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Joyce cleared her throat.

“I’m so glad you’re here, doctor,” she exclaimed. “His head seems to be hurting him. Is there anything you can give him?”

Will noticed his mom’s voice seemed to break the man from his trance. He blinked, face momentarily blank before his previous mask of professionalism returned.

"Yes," he murmured, more to himself than to the room. Will strained to hear his voice. It was naturally quiet. Will figured he wasn’t the type to raise his voice often. The man seemed to realize this and raised his voice as he went on. “Yes, I’ll bring you something. One moment.”

With that, the doctor retreated from the room, presumably to fetch the promised medicine.

“He’s-” Will spoke up hesitantly. He cut off and fixed his mom with a look that radiated exasperation. “He’s my doctor? Really?”

“He seemed very knowledgeable before,” Joyce defended, frowning thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s just nervous?”

“He’s nervous meeting a patient?” Will questioned, tone deadpan. “Why?”

She gave him a shrug, appearing just as confused.

The doctor reappeared at that moment, striding quickly through the door and handing Will a tiny, white tablet, along with a paper cup filled with water.

“Here you go,” the man explained, and Will was grateful that he sounded more focused on the task at hand. “Standard pain meds. It should help.”

Will decided to forgo sending the man a doubtful glance and promptly placed the pill in his mouth, washing it down with a gulp of water.

Even though he knew the meds probably took some time to kick in, Will was still rather irritated when the pain pervading through his neck and head didn’t immediately fade.

He sighed, closing his eyes and reaching up to massage a sore point on the back of his neck. When that did little to alleviate his suffering, he dropped the hand and looked back up, starting slightly when he realized that the doctor was watching him closely.

“Did that help?” the man asked, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

Will raised his eyebrows, resisting the urge to scoff.

“We’ll see,” he replied snarkily.

Will was well aware he was acting kind of rude but, hey, his head was killing him, he was stuck in another damn hospital bed, and the worst part was he couldn’t even recall how he had gotten there and nobody apparently deemed it necessary to fill him in.

The doctor nodded and made to say something else, but hesitated, suddenly looking embarrassed.

"I…wish to apologize," he finally got out. He sounded sheepish. "When I saw your name, I…well, I recognized it. And, well…"

He trailed off awkwardly but the damage had been done.

Will hid one hand beneath the bedsheets and balled it into a tight fist as he fought to maintain his composure. It was a struggle to keep his facial expression neutral. The pain from before had fled. His body felt numb and cold, like his hands had that time he had tried to form a snowball without wearing mittens.

Great.

Just great.

Another person gawking at Zombie Boy.

Will bit his lip to keep from snapping out something vulgar. He may be in pain and frustrated, but his mom (and Jonathan) taught him better than that.

He counted to three in his head, letting his fist uncurl as he analyzed what had transpired. To the doctor's credit, he'd apologized. Besides, it's not like Will couldn't understand the doctor's position. It wasn't every day you met someone who had reportedly come back from the dead.

It could have gone worse. He could have asked for Will's autograph.

"It's fine," Will insisted, even though it wasn't. The chill lingered and he imagined his heart encompassed by a layer of frost. Nevertheless, he attempted a reassuring smile he was sure anyone could see through.

This must have included the doctor because the man sighed and placed his clipboard on a side table. Pulling a chair from where it had been stationed by the closet, he was soon sitting at Will’s bedside, opposite his mom.

“I really am sorry,” he reiterated. “Let’s…let’s start over, okay? I’m Dr. Gossamer.”

“Will,” he responded, feeling slightly calmer and more in control.

“Will,” Gossamer acknowledged with a sharp nod. “How are you feeling right now?”

“Confused,” he mumbled back, feeling the irritation rising again in his chest.

That pulled sympathetic smiles from both Gossamer and his mom.

“Yes, I’d imagine so,” the man mused aloud. “I understand this is very frustrating and-”

Something about the calm, steady way the doctor delivered his words, in a way that sounded…fake, set Will off. It was a tone he had heard from nurses and doctors-from teachers too-his whole life. The tone let Will know that, as soon as he was out of their sight, he ceased to matter in their minds. It was a tone that said, “we care…but not that much. Not enough to actually do anything.”

“What the fuck happened to me?!” Will finally shouted out, ignoring his mom’s gasp and hissed scolding from his right.

Gossamer appeared unbothered, waving a dismissive hand when his mom tried to apologize. His eyes roamed over Will’s face and he got that familiar feeling of being a specimen trapped under a microscope.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Gossamer queried, adopting a clinical tone.

“I-” Will closed his eyes, screwing up his face as he thought. The pain had somewhat diminished, making his task easier. His efforts were rewarded by an image, one that looked as though he was viewing it from one end of a long tunnel: His friends standing around a table, looking back at him. But where? And what were they doing? “I was with the Party.”

“His friends,” Joyce offered in explanation to Gossamer’s puzzled look. Glancing absently at her, Will did a double take when he saw her fingers were clutching a lit cigarette. His eyes widened further when he saw her lift it to her mouth.

He opened his mouth to say something but then thought it over and remained silent. He supposed if there was ever a day when she was allowed a cigarette, it was today.

"Will?" Gossamer spoke up from his other side. "Is everything alright?"

Part of Will wanted to say "no" as he watched his mother continue to smoke, seemingly oblivious to how puzzling he found her latest actions. In the end, he chose to ignore it.

"Yeah," Will assured him, mostly for his mom's sake. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Gossamer said reassuringly. He paused for a moment before going on. "You said you remember being with your friends?"

Will nodded.

"That's true," the doctor revealed. "You were with your friends tonight. Do you remember anything else?"

Will chewed his lip, thinking.

Did he remember anything else?

No. He didn't.

He shook his head and was thus rewarded with the sight of Gossamer and his mother sharing a significant look.

"There are two possibilities," Gossamer proposed. "Either his brain sustained a physical injury during the attack or the amnesia is a…well, a trauma response."

Will's mind was whirring. It had latched onto the word "attack" and had gone into overdrive trying to imagine what had happened. Were the others safe? He had to know.

"Mom," he interrupted, voice urgent. "Are the others okay?"

His mother's anxious expression momentarily softened as she took in his worried expression.

"Oh, honey, yes," she answered, rushing to calm him. "Everyone else is perfectly fine. You…you were the…target."

His stomach churned and his imagination reached new heights at this new information.

So someone (or something) had targeted and attacked him. That was nothing new. But who? Why? And why now?

“What exactly happened?” Will asked, yet again. His patience was as thin as the hospital gown he was sporting. Why couldn’t they just tell him the details already? "I was attacked? By who?"

Gossamer and his mom shared another meaningful glance, making him huff.

"I'm right here," he reminded them moodily. He was mostly reminding his mom. She knew he hated when Jonathan and she talked about him like this, like he wasn't even there.

"It's just that this is a delicate matter," Gossamer explained slowly, as though choosing his words carefully. “You see, sometimes, the mind will hide a memory in order to protect itself. If you truly don’t remember, that could be because your mind considers it too…damaging to allow you to recall it.”

Will felt like someone’s foot was on his chest and the unknown assailant was pressing harder and harder down the more he tried to draw a breath and reorient himself.

“Do you understand why we haven’t told you now?” Joyce spoke up now. Looking at her, Will noticed she had already entirely smoked her cigarette and had abandoned the worn stub on the side table off to the room’s right side. She rejoined him at his bedside and took both of his hands in hers. “Dr. Gossamer says if I tell you what happened and your mind isn’t ready to hear it, it could…cause problems.”

Will made to protest (they were, after all, withholding knowledge of something that had happened to him), but was cut off by the ringing of the phone on his bedside table.

Gossamer and his mom exchanged a look, before the doctor shrugged his shoulders, gesturing that she should answer it.

His mother picked up the receiver and held it to her ear.

“Hello?” she asked. Whatever the other person said made her relax. Will saw her shoulders drop and her face, which had looked confused, now bore a relieved expression. “Oh, thank God! Yes, he’s awake now and the doctor’s here with us. Oh, um…room twenty-nine. Got it? See you soo-oh, you’re here?” Here, she spun around, still clutching the phone, to attempt to look through the slightly ajar door.

A door that was currently being pushed open by his brother, Jonathan.

Will didn’t even bother hiding his relieved sigh.

Finally.

Someone with some damn answers.

He adored his mom and knew she was only trying to help him, but he sometimes resented the fact that she seemed to get all of her parenting tips from a book he imagined was entitled The Most Overprotective Parents in History and How to Blow Them All Out of the Water!

Thankfully, it was a book that Jonathan didn’t seem to have read.

“Jon, what happened to me?” Will shot out, pouncing immediately on his chance. “They won’t tell me.”

“What?” Jonathan questioned, scrunching his nose in confusion as he came to an abrupt stop in front of his bed. He glanced at their mom. “Why?”

“Dr. Gossamer says that we need to be careful not to further upset-” she began but was cut off.

“You were attacked by Troy and James while biking home from the Wheeler’s,” Jonathan interrupted, turning away from their mom to address Will.

Will’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline before the space between them furrowed-a visible sign of his puzzlement.

Something about that explanation felt…off. Though Will couldn’t quite explain why he thought that.

“And this happened tonight?” Will queried. The nod he received from Jonathan only deepened his confusion.

That didn’t make sense.

Assuming today was Friday, the Party’s usual designated DnD night, that meant tomorrow was Saturday.

Saturday was date day with Mike, a day set aside for the two of them to spend quality time together.

It was a weekly ritual they both always looked forward to, which was why Mike almost always insisted on getting the most out of their Saturdays by having Will spend the night on Fridays.

And even if Will was wrong about what day it was, it still wasn’t like the paladin to let him bike home alone in the dark.

Will sifted all this through his mind while his mother scolded Jonathan for disregarding the doctor’s orders.

“Honestly, Jonathan!” she hissed at him through gritted teeth. “I can’t believe you did that! What if the memory was traumatic and he-?”

“I think Will got inoculated to shitty life experiences a long time ago,” Jonathan stated quietly, and something in his brother’s voice made Will’s head snap up.

Studying Jonathan’s expression, Will’s eyes widened. There was an odd cold steel in his brother’s eyes. It was a look he had only seen a handful of times, but they all shared a commonality: Lonnie was always the recipient of it.

Which made sense, because it was a look that communicated one simple message, amplifying it a thousand times over: Jonathan completely loathed the person standing in front of him and was disgusted by them.

And now Jonathan was directing that same look at their mom.

Will was stunned.

What was that about?

When had his brother become so…cold?

Before Will could further dissect this, Jonathan had turned his attention back to him.

“What happened?” Jonathan asked him, causing Will to blink at him, bewildered.

“What do you mean?” he questioned. As far as Will was concerned, they should be telling him that.

“I mean,” Jonathan explained and Will flinched, shocked and hurt when he heard the mocking tone in his brother’s voice. “Why were you so stupid tonight?”

Will’s jaw dropped open.

What the hell?

Jonathan never spoke to him like this. Right now, sitting here with Jonathan next to him, it didn’t even remotely feel like his brother.

It felt like talking to Lonnie.

Always resting on the balls of his feet. Constantly on the alert for new threats. Not feeling sure what word was going to piss him off and make him fly in your direction, ill intent written on his face.

“I-” Will started, wondering how he can explain why he made a decision when he can’t remember anything about the events preceding it. He realized then that he'd begun to cry without even realizing. “I…don’t...I don’t know.”

From the look on Jonathan’s face, that was not what he had wanted to hear.

Will quickly looked down at his bed when he heard his brother take a deep, exasperated breath in through his nose.

“You don’t…know?” Jonathan intoned, sounding like he was barely managing to hold on to his temper. Seeing movement out of his peripheral vision, Will sucked in a breath, heart clenching, when he saw that his brother’s hands were now balled into fists.

At that moment, Jonathan seemed perfectly capable of hurting him.

Their mom must have sensed his fear because she quickly intervened.

“Jonathan, give him a break,” she pleaded, standing up and moving to stand protectively by Will’s side like she was guarding him. “He doesn’t remember anything that happened tonight.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Jonathan muttered lowly, but Will still heard him and he bit his lip to contain a sob that had worked its way up his throat.

“I’m sorry, okay?!” Will burst out, trying not to feel too embarrassed by the tears leaking out of his eyes, by the way he had brought his legs to his knees to curl protectively into a ball. “I s-swear, I can’t remember anything!”

As his sobs continued, Will looked up, half hoping that maybe seeing him in such obvious emotional distress would bring out Jon’s gentle side.

He was disappointed. Rather than appearing remorseful, Jonathan looked almost resigned.

“Will, please stop that,” Jonathan murmured, sounding annoyed. He was looking at Will like he found his tears bothersome.

When Will wasn’t able to follow his brother’s request, Jonathan threw up his hands like Will was continuing to cry just to spite him and turned away from him, taking a few short strides to examine a chart on the wall. He seemed to be making a conscious effort not to look at Will while he was crying, like he was disgusted by Will’s behavior.

Will put a hand over his mouth to cover up the sounds. He didn’t want Jonathan to hear and become even angrier.

He didn’t know what was happening. Why was Jonathan being so mean? And come to think of it, why was his mom acting so weird? By now, she should surely be letting him bury his head in her chest and rubbing his back and telling him everything was okay, that Jonathan was just upset and he didn’t mean it. But there was nothing.

Will lifted his head and found her watching him sadly from across the room. Though she looked sympathetic to his plight, Will noticed that, like Jonathan, his mom seemed to have intentionally put distance between the two of them.

He tensed when he heard Jonathan heave a long sigh.

“Will,” he said, and Will felt relief course through him when he heard some of his brother’s characteristic gentleness had seeped back into his voice (though Will noted that Jon didn’t turn away from examining the chart). “I’m just trying to understand what happened tonight. It doesn’t make sense.”

Well, at least Will wasn’t the only one who could see that.

Finally, Jonathan ceased his studying of the chart and moved back over to the bed.

Sitting down on the foot of Will’s bed, Jon flashed him a quick smile, and, though it looked more like a smile offered out of a sense of obligation than one meant to give comfort, Will sent back his own shaky one in return.

At least his brother was looking at him again.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Jonathan repeated. “Will, why did you ride your bike home in the dark? How many times, Will? How many times have I told you that you cannot do that? It’s not safe. Especially for you.”

Right. Will thought bitterly. Every bully in town would love to get Will “the freak” Byers alone to rough him up a bit.

“Yeah,” Jonathan nodded, seeing by the look in his eyes that Will understood. “So…I don’t get it. What happened?”

“I don’t know, Jon,” Will repeated, his voice slightly whiny. God, why didn’t Jonathan understand? He wanted to know just as badly as anyone else, but the memories just…weren’t there.

“You can’t remember anything?” Jonathan pressed him. “Did you…I mean, did you maybe argue with Mike or something? You didn’t want to stay?”

Will frowned. That didn’t sound right, but…

It was the most likely explanation for why he had been leaving the Wheeler home under a black sky.

Will felt a small cinder of anxiety burning in his stomach.

Was that it? Had Mike and he fought? And if so, over what?

Will was shaken from his internal worries by the sound of Jonathan sighing deeply. He looked up just in time to see him slump back against the back of his chair, looking defeated.

“Well,” Jon muttered, sounding slightly sheepish. “I guess I can’t be too mad at you for something you can’t even remember doing.”

A smile quirked on Will’s lips.

“That’s so generous of you,” he replied cheekily, which earned him a playful swat on the back of the head from a Jon who was finally grinning, even if only slightly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jonathan muttered, looking much more at ease. He looked up, making eye contact with their mom. “I, uh, I have to get back to work actually.”

Will was naturally disappointed.

“You can’t stay?” Will implored him, but Jonathan shook his head.

“Nope,” he denied. A small smile played on his lips. “See, to earn the money, I have to actually be there. It’s rigged.”

Will snorted, even as he felt a pang of guilt in his chest at the thought of how much money his latest stay in the hospital was going to cost his family.

“Work hard and stay safe, okay?” Joyce instructed, moving to hug her oldest.

“You’ll both be all right here?” he asked, anxious.

“I think so,” his mom claimed. “He’s up now and everyone keeps saying how he looks pretty good despite what happened. We got lucky.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan muttered as he made for the doorway. “Let’s hope it continues to hold.”

Nodding goodbye to them both, Jonathan disappeared from the room.

…only to reappear a moment later.

“Uh, Mom?” Jonathan called back into the room, sounding like there was laughter bubbling just beneath the surface of his voice. “Are you aware that there are three anxious teenagers waiting outside?”

Will’s head snapped around to shoot his mother a hopeful look.

“Yes, of course you can see them,” she allowed, rolling her eyes fondly. A shadow passed over her face, however. “Although…I don’t know. Maybe we should wait? Where’s Dr. Gossamer?”

Will realized with a start that he hadn’t even noticed the doctor’s departure.

“Mom,” Jonathan interjected, and there it was again. That cold tone. Will looked closer and saw the steely look had returned to Jonathan’s eyes. “It’s fine.”

When she still looked unsure, Will proposed a compromise.

“How about I don’t see them all at once?” he suggested, “Just have them come in individually or in pairs?”

Joyce considered this. It was a fair idea.

“Okay,” she conceded, shrugging. She smirked at him, her eyes glinting knowingly. “Anyone in particular you want to see first?”

“Mike,” Will replied instantly, not even caring when his answer earned him a huffed laugh from his mom.

“I’ll send him in,” Jon muttered, sounding…annoyed?...before he once again vanished out the door.

“I’ll, uh, give you two some privacy,” his mom muttered, causing Will to blush, which she laughed at because his mom was secretly the worst. She quickly ducked out of the room, murmuring something about going to find a vending machine.

Will waited longer than he thought he would have to before someone arrived.

And when a visitor finally arrived, it wasn’t Mike.

It was Dustin.

“Oh…hey,” Will greeted the other boy awkwardly, cringing internally at the quality of his address. What could he say? He hadn’t expected to see Dustin. “Um, how’s it going? You all right?”

“I should be asking you that,” Dustin pointed out as he claimed one of the chairs next to Will’s bed.

“I feel decent enough,” Will admitted after thinking it over. “My head was killing me earlier, but I’m alright now.”

“Good,” Dustin said, nodding. He gave a long sigh and leaned back heavily in his chair, looking suddenly like a weary traveler who had completed an arduous odyssey. “So…Troy and James, huh?”

“That’s what Jonathan told me,” Will muttered, still feeling bitter that his own mother had kept information from him on the advice of some doctor they’d never met before. Since when did that happen?

“We found you,” Dustin revealed in a shaky voice. “Well, Mike did. He got there first. He’s…he’s still pretty shaken up. We all are.”

Will winced. From the sound of it, he wagered he had looked pretty horrible when they had effectively rescued him. He wondered if he still did. He hadn’t gotten the chance to look in a mirror yet.

“Where is Mike?” Will asked, concerned. He wished the other boy was there with him and hoped he wasn’t beating himself up over what happened.

“He’s-” Dustin began, hesitating, giving him a nervous glance as though worried about his reaction. “He’s just getting some air. He’ll come see you in a bit.”

He’s definitely beating himself up, Will thought grimly.

When neither of them spoke for a few moments, Will decided he should try to inject some cheer into the room. After all, he was fine, right?

“Maybe I got a cool-looking scar this time,” Will speculated, allowing himself to grin. Perhaps not the most appropriate joke considering the situation, but when you had experienced trauma so often that you really should be looking into getting some kind of rewards card for it, as Will had, you learned to find humor in unlikely places.

But apparently, Dustin didn’t appreciate the effort.

“That's not funny!” he snapped out, throwing Will with his harsh growl. “Come on, Will! This is serious!”

“I…I know,” Will stuttered back, trying to contain his surprise. He felt the grin slide from his face, suddenly feeling rather meek. “Sorry.”

While he wasn’t sure if Dustin would laugh, he had thought that he would at least smile and maybe respond with a joke of his own. That was what Dustin did. It was who he was. Whenever a situation would turn a touch too serious or dark, the Party could always count on Dustin to find a way to lift everyone’s spirits.

But it looked like the other boy wasn’t in the mood right now.

As though he could sense how his reaction had dampened Will’s mood, Dustin sighed again and shot him an apologetic look.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, turning his head to look away from Will and towards the wall. “Yeah.”

As Dustin continued to look at the wall, eventually withdrawing into the back of his mind based on the glazed look Will saw in his eyes, he was struck by the fact that Dustin seemed way too quiet.

No room that contained Dustin Henderson ever stayed quiet for very long. Dustin was like an ever-burning firecracker. He seemingly always had boundless amounts of energy. Will couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Dustin be completely still. He was a fidgeter, someone who was always tapping his foot or drumming his fingers across the table. Now though, his hands were completely still in his lap, resting as soundly as rocks.

It was as though Dustin had been robbed of his spirit.

Will sucked on his bottom lip, unsure how to proceed.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to make the first move.

“It’s just…it’s just…a lot. You know?” Dustin finally spoke up, coming back to his surroundings. His voice sounded strained. He turned his head and focused back on Will. “I mean…everything that’s happened to…to you. To all of us. It’s so…you know? I just wonder sometimes if…”

He trailed off.

He didn’t need to finish. Will knew where that kind of thinking led. He had walked down that path countless times himself, typically when night fell and there was no one awake. The silence and stillness of the house somehow became too loud and, left to his own devices, Will’s mind kept presenting him with those incessant questions that he never voiced out loud, like “how much more of this can we take?”

Dustin suddenly snorted, pulling Will from his thoughts.

“It’s just so…surreal to think about,” Dustin explained, seeing Will’s inquisitive look. “Like, this all started with that bike ride home.”

Will nodded slowly. He supposed that was true. That ride home had been the beginning. It had changed everything, had turned his life (and Will had already argued about it with the others and they had all agreed he was the only one allowed to make this joke) upside down.

“And all the shit, it just-” Dustin went on, shaking his head in disbelief. “It just…keeps coming…keeps coming for you.”

Will felt a slight niggling feeling itching at his brain.

Something was wrong.

This…wasn’t like Dustin. Dustin wasn’t maudlin. He didn’t sink into reflective silences and he definitely wasn’t the type to keep dragging everyone’s spirits down by reminding them of all the suffering they had gone through.

Not to mention, Will couldn’t shake the feeling that Dustin’s voice had an almost accusatory tone.

As though he was saying it was Will’s fault. As if he had single-handedly brought all this loss on their group.

Will snuck a glance up at Dustin and saw he had descended into his inner thoughts again.

Will shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of the oddly tense silence.

Dustin was visiting him and yet he felt like the intruder.

“Hey,” he blurted out, abruptly bringing the bard out of his thoughts. Wincing at the questioning look Dustin sent his way, Will rushed on. There was a strange buzzing in his ears. It felt like there was a live wire buried right beneath his skin. He didn’t know what was up with Dustin, but maybe he could distract him a little. “Do you want to…play something? I think I saw a checkers board on a shelf in the closet.”

Will hadn’t actually seen anything in the closet, but he knew from past hospital visits that nurses often kept games in them for restless patients. He found himself really hoping that was the case here. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t let Dustin leave without trying to drag him out of whatever funk he was presently in.

Dustin hesitated and that action more than anything cemented Will’s resolve. Dustin loved games. He was always the one who got wholly immersed in their campaigns, who got fiercely competitive, treating every loss like a personal insult. Dustin not wanting to play a game was as unheard of as a day when Lucas and Max didn’t bicker. It never happened.

To Will’s relief, there was a checkers board. Will praised his luck (something he was rarely given cause to do) and shifted in the bed, changing his position to grant Dustin the necessary space to place the board between them.

They both assisted in the set-up before beginning the match with no pomp.

As they went back and forth moving pieces across the board, Will kept peeking at Dustin through his bangs. He frowned when he saw the other boy seemed entirely disinterested; his movements were slow and monotonous, completely detached from anything resembling a strategy.

Keeping an eye on his friend, Will claimed one of his kings.

He waited for Dustin to playfully pretend to explode, to slam his fist on the board and let out an over-dramatic cry of pain, as though Will had physically struck him.

Will wanted him to. He wanted to see the other boy’s quirky, energetic side. He wanted to see the Dustin who, at the first sign he was losing, would flip the board over and shout “new game!”, insistent on starting again and, with his characteristic determination, promising that, this time, he wouldn’t be backed into a corner.

But there was nothing.

Will felt a lump in his throat as he watched Dustin’s listless movements.

Dustin had always had such a mischievous, naturally adventurous spirit, but it was like it had been drained from him.

Recalling some of the ruminations the other boy had voiced, Will felt a twinge of guilt stir within him as he wondered if maybe that loss of innocence was because of him.

The game came to an end and Dustin didn’t seem eager for a rematch.

“I gotta go,” Dustin stated gruffly. “See you around, Will. Get better.”

It was a stiff farewell, full of blunt, lifeless statements seemingly made out of necessity instead of genuine affection.

He was gone before Will could say anything else,

Will breathed in deeply through his nose, held it, and then let it out slowly through his mouth.

That was the most boring conversation he’d ever had with Dustin Henderson.

It was one of only a handful of times when he hadn’t laughed in the other boy’s presence.

Will was deep in thought as he gathered up the checkerboard and pieces, slowly packing it away and restoring it.

Something was up with Dustin.

Something was wrong with everyone.

His mom was being weirdly distant. Jonathan had been…scary. And Dustin had been closed off and just…checked out, which wasn’t like him at all.

Will returned to his bed, sitting heavily upon it and burying his head in his hands, and letting out a deep sigh.

Something was wrong.

Extremely wrong.

Will just wished he had some idea as to the cause.

Once more, he screwed up his face trying to think, trying to remember what had happened to land him here. They said it was Troy and James, but for some reason, that didn’t sound right. It should have. After all, those douchebags had gone after him countless times. But Will couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t the case here.

It was like Will had a guitar and some of the notes were out of tune. When he swept his hand across, those notes stuck out so clearly, creating a painful-sounding discord.

He couldn’t remember anything, save what he’d told Gossamer and his mom.

That…couldn’t be right.

Could it?

Surely, he must remember something.

Unless…

Unless his injuries were worse than he thought.

He felt fine at the moment, but that didn’t mean much, did it?

What had Gossamer said? Some sort of physical injury to his brain?

Oh God, Will thought frantically. What if my brain’s all messed up?!

He pictured his brain splitting apart, the way a carved pumpkin does when it’s begun to rot.

Will was fairly certain it had to be something physical. He all but dismissed the “trauma response” option.

After all the crazy shit he’d had to deal with, Will doubted getting attacked by some local school bullies would be the thing that made his mind snap.

He could recall every other painful experience he’d ever been through with perfect clarity.

What was so special about this time?

Will groaned loudly in frustration when the answer didn’t immediately present itself. He began smacking his forehead repeatedly with one of his palms.

Come on! Think!

“Uh…do you want us to come back?”

Will’s gaze snapped up and his eyes widened upon spotting Lucas and Max lingering uncertainly by the door.

Lucas, the one who had spoken, was studying him the way he’d once seen Bob inspect a radio that had been brought in by a customer. He’d sat at their table with a concentrated frown and his eyebrows furrowed, turning the device over in his hands, occasionally adjusting a knob or turning a dial, trying to diagnose what was wrong with it.

Max, oddly enough, wasn’t looking at him. She had her hands shoved in her pockets. Her jaw was clenched and her face had an oddly unsettling blank look she had turned toward the floor. She looked almost like a bored child who had been forcibly dragged somewhere by a parent.

“Oh…yeah! I mean, no!” Will stammered out, finding his voice at last. He made a strange, spastic gesture with his hand that was meant to be a wave. “Come in!”

They both cautiously entered the room, taking a look around, which in another circumstance might have made Will smile. The novelty of seeing a hospital room had worn off for him long ago.

Lucas made his way to Will’s bedside and sat in the chair that had been vacated by Dustin only minutes earlier.

Instead of claiming the chair on his other side, the zoomer chose to stand, stopping at the foot of his bed and crossing her arms. Her face was padlocked, expression marmoreal.

Will did his best not to look at her. Though she hadn't said a word to him yet, she seemed to radiate heat, like that from a furnace, and Will got the sense that now wasn't the time to strike up casual conversation.

So, he turned his attention to Lucas.

The other boy was still examining him, seemingly content to sit and do so in silence.

Evidently, Will would have to make the first move.

"Uh, hey," Will greeted his friend awkwardly. "Thanks for coming."

Lucas blinked, and for a moment, in the other boy's eyes, Will thought he saw a flicker of…surprise?

A second later, it was gone, replaced by Lucas' characteristic smile that was more of a mischievous smirk (although Will noticed that it looked somewhat strained and that it didn't seem to reach his friend's eyes).

“Hey, Will,” he greeted the younger boy, sitting back in his chair to get more comfortable. His voice was noticeably worn, croaky as though he’d just spent a great deal of time shouting. “How are you? In pain at all?”

“Not so much anymore,” Will told him and it was true. The pain had mostly receded and become a dull ache in the back of his head. “They gave me something. Must have kicked in.”

“That’s good,” Lucas replied, nodding his head sharply.

Will opened his mouth, his throat burning to ask, but should he? Things seemed to be going well with Lucas, unlike with Dustin or his family. Maybe he could risk it. “Hey, Lucas? Um…do…do I look okay?”

Lucas’s eyebrows shot up before a wrinkle appeared between them as he thought over the question.

“I mean,” he muttered dryly. “I wouldn’t show up for picture day looking like this.”

Will snorted, a smile appearing on his lips for the first time in a while.

“No, I mean,” Will rushed to clarify. “I mean…is my head like…like covered in blood or…is there a bandage or something?”

Lucas looked momentarily confused before his face shone with realization.

“You don’t remember,” he perceived, and at Will’s negative response, Lucas sighed, slumping back in his chair and running a hand over his face. He looked as though he had rapidly aged fifty years. “Shit. Uh…Will, I don’t know if I’m the right person to tell you-”

“Lucas, please!” Will practically begged, and he hoped the other boy didn’t notice the tears that he could feel starting to form. “Please! Nobody is telling me anything! Just…just answer a few questions? Please?”

Lucas and Will were locked in eye contact for a few seconds before the former sighed and nodded.

“Alright,” he told him wearily. “Ask away.”

“Was I actually attacked by Troy and James?” Will instantly shot out. Seeing Lucas’ surprised look, he added. “That’s what Jon told me. Is that true?”

“Um…well, yeah,” Lucas admitted, nodding and fidgeting. “From what I was told.” Now, it was Will’s turn to look confused and, seeing this, Lucas added. “It was Mike who found you.”

Will nodded, telling Lucas he had been told this already.

“About Mike,” he began and when Lucas nodded, he had to know. “Where is he?”

“I, uh,” Lucas seemed to hesitate and Will resisted the urge to reach out and shake him roughly by the shoulders. “He, uh, he’s calming down right now. You know, he was pretty…rattled.”

Lucas was avoiding eye contact and Will knew that usually meant someone was lying, but he figured that whatever Mike’s deal was, he’d see him and handle it soon enough. Right now, he had more inquiries. “Where did he find me? Where was I?”

“You were biking home from Mike’s,” Lucas began, confirming what Jonathan had said. “It was dark, getting late. You-”

“Why was I biking home?” Will asked. He was still confused about that part. “I usually stay at Mike’s on Friday nights. It is Friday, right?”

“I mean, it’s technically Saturday now,” Lucas informed him. “But yeah, it was Friday. I think Mike said he had some family shit to do. Visiting some relative.”

Will frowned, shaking his head.

That still didn’t make any sense.

If he hadn’t been able to stay the night, then Mike was supposed to call somebody to come and pick him up, like his mom or Hopper or, hell, even Steve.

No Party member traveled anywhere alone. Especially at night. It was one of the new rules they had adopted after Starcourt.

As much as he felt like a broken record for thinking it, Will just couldn’t past the fact that this explanation didn’t make sense.

Why would he leave the Wheeler house alone? Why would Mike let him? It was his rule, his idea.

Will scowled in irritation, closing his eyes to think but abandoning the exercise within seconds.

God, he wished he could remember!

“So I was biking?” Will prompted Lucas and the other boy nodded, picking up his explanation.

“You were biking home in the dark,” Lucas went on. “We figure they must have been waiting to ambush you. They pounced on you right before you could pull into the woods. And-”

“Woods?” Will asked, confused. There were a couple of patches of wood between Mike’s house and his own.

“The woods right around your house,” Lucas illuminated quickly. “By the quarry.”

Mirkwood, Will thought, his mind whirring.

He had to hand it to Troy. Attacking him in what was essentially his own backyard was appropriately humiliating and honestly pretty ballsy.

“Okay,” Will replied, nodding rapidly. “So Troy attacked-”

“And James,” Lucas corrected gently, as though worried Will, with his faulty memory, had forgotten about the other boy entirely.

Will froze.

“James attacked?” Will asked, more than a little shocked. “James Dante?”

Another out-of-tune string, and as it sounded, the feeling reverberating through Will was one of... betrayal. 

James attacking him felt wrong.

But why?

Will turned the issue over in his mind, sifting through the evidence like a child scouring the beach for seashells.

When they had been younger, James had rarely attacked. He had been the one to pin Will’s hands behind his back as Troy socked him in the gut or kicked him in the balls. He was Troy’s sycophant, the one who stood in the background and looked intimidating. He seldom threw punches himself.

But even more than that, the thought of James doing him harm was causing his mind to shirk in rebellion.

Why?

But Lucas was nodding.

“Yeah, both of them,” he averred. “Dustin was able to take a look at your bike. He said your headlight was busted and your handlebars looked a little weird. We figured they probably rammed into you, knocked you off your bike, and went to town.”

“Jesus,” Will muttered, slumping back again. He raked a hand through his hair, trying to recall any part of what the other boy was describing but once again having no luck. “But…why?”

If he hadn’t been looking straight at Lucas, he might have missed the shadow that passed over his face.

“Who knows?” Lucas murmured, shrugging casually. “Why do bullies hurt people? Age-old question.”

Will wasn’t fooled.

“No,” Will said, staring hard at Lucas, who once again seemed to be avoiding eye contact. “There’s something. You think they had an actual reason.”

Lucas bit his lip, as though unsure of himself.

“Come on,” Will pried, his irritation flaring a little at the other boy’s reticence. “What is it?”

“Well,” Lucas started, his voice sounding weary. “Can you think of anything that’s changed recently? Within the past year, maybe?”

“Not that I-” Will began before stopping. A cold, sick feeling was suddenly worming through his gut. Surely, it wasn’t that. But that was the only thing that was different. “Mike and I are dating now.”

Lucas snapped his fingers and pointed at him as if to say “bingo!”

“But-” Will protested, suddenly unable to get the words out as feelings of nausea rolled through his stomach. He paused and when it had somewhat subsided, he tried again. “But they don’t know that!”

“How do you know?” Lucas questioned, raising his eyebrows in a challenging manner.

“We’re careful!” Will shot back vehemently. He and Mike weren’t stupid. They knew caution was essential, a matter of life and death. It wasn’t that much of a concern when it was just the Party, but outside of their few safe zones, they barely interacted with each other for fear of letting their deeper feelings show.

“All it takes is one slip-up,” Lucas reminded him and Will fought the urge to lash out at him because he knew that.

“We haven’t,” Will gritted out through clenched teeth.

From the look Lucas was giving him, it was clear he didn’t believe him.

“It might just be rumors,” Lucas conceded. He had looked away from Will and was studying his hands. “Those can be just as dangerous. Maybe even worse.”

Will resisted the urge to scoff.

“Lucas,” he murmured wearily, reaching up and pressing two fingers into his eye sockets. “You don’t have to explain to me how bad Hawkins is, okay? I know. Trust me.”

“It’s getting worse,” Lucas insisted, still focused on his hands. “You know that, right? You see it? It’s-”

“Lucas,” Will snapped out, irritation surging through him. Not wanting to glare at his friend, Will turned his head and focused on the other wall. “I get it, alright? This place is and has always been a hellhole. Hawkins is-”

“Hawkins is on a knife edge,” Lucas declared, finally looking up at Will again. His eyes seemed to glow in their intensity.

Will slowly turned his head back around to focus on the other boy, confusion evident on his face.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

Lucas snorted in disbelief.

“Come on, Will,” he said, shaking his head. “You must see it too.”

When Will simply raised an eyebrow, Lucas raised a hand and began counting off on his fingers.

“Your disappearance,” he stated. “Barb’s death. Bob’s death and that massacre at Hawkins Lab. The Starcourt fire. And now, these murders-”

“Murders?” Will exclaimed, alarmed. This was the first he’d heard of any murders.

Or at least he thought so.

“Yeah?” Lucas replied, looking surprised. “Do…do you not remember those either?”

Will shook his head. He couldn’t remember.

Or could he?

There seemed to be…something. Just at the edge of his thoughts. It was fuzzy, but Will swore he could see flashes of something.

A cemetery.

Noises that sounded like warped versions of his friends’ voices as they all stood around him, loud and obnoxious. Were they arguing? Over what?

Something else too.

Will brought his hands to his face and dug his thumbs into his sockets, hoping the slight pain would help shock his brain into remembering.

There!

Like an old car that had suddenly jolted to life, Will saw another flash.

Max.

She was floating, rising through the sky.

Will let his hands drop and frowned.

What the hell was that? What was he supposed to do with that?

Will glanced up and saw Max still standing there. She looked pissed, but still very much okay. Her feet also appeared to be on the ground.

“Will?” Lucas was saying and Will realized that the other boy had called his name a few times.

“I’m good,” Will blurted out, bringing his attention back to Lucas.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” his friend pressed.

Shit.

What had he been saying?

"Uh," Will responded elegantly.

Lucas´eyes fluttered shut and Will heard him sharply draw in a breath. He tried not to shift guiltily when he realized the other boy was irritated with him.

“I said,” Lucas repeated with forced patience. “That with everything that’s happened, sticking out is dangerous. More than usual. People are scared and they are looking for something or someone to blame.”

Will blinked, a frown slowly morphing on his face as the pieces clicked together.

“Me?” he asked incredulously. “You think they’ll blame me? That’s insane.”

“Is it?” Lucas questioned, wearing a grim expression. “I don’t think it is. Especially not if you give them a reason.”

Will didn’t particularly like the way the other boy had phrased that. It sounded too similar to Dustin’s accusatory tone for his comfort. Lucas must have seen that sentiment reflected on his face.

But he didn’t apologize.

“So, what?” Will asked sarcastically. “I just stop being gay?”

God, he wished it were that simple.

Something rippled across Lucas’ face and Will watched as he glanced at Max and gave her a pleading look, seemingly inviting her to pick up the thread of conversation.

The zoomer silently declined the offer.

Lucas huffed and refocused on Will.

“We, uh,” he stammered, shifting uncomfortably and once more refusing to look at Will. “We actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

Will tensed, straightening his posture as he prepared for a fight.

“What do you mean?” he asked them with a dangerous, barbed edge to his voice.

“I mean,” Lucas continued, sending another desperate look at his girlfriend that also went ignored. “You…being gay. Are you…sure?”

Will stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or scream.

That wasn’t even worth answering.

“I’m sure,” Will supplied flatly anyway. He resisted the urge to ask his friend whether he was sure he liked girls. He didn’t want to trigger any needless fighting.

“And you’re-” Lucas asked, stopping as he fumbled over his words. “Just guys? No chance that you’re…into girls too?”

“Not as far as I can tell,” Will ground out. He had a horrible inkling of where this was going and prayed to a God he wasn’t even sure he still believed in that he was wrong.

Lucas grimaced. He had clearly been hoping for a different answer. He sighed, looked down at his hands, and closed his eyes. At that moment, he looked completely still, causing Will to wonder if he was the one now praying for guidance.

Lucas opened his eyes, a wary look forming on his face. This expression, combined with the way the other boy leaned back in his chair, clued Will into the fact that Lucas feared his next words would provoke a physical reaction.

“Could you-?” Lucas suggested timidly. He paused to swallow, looking like he’d rather be doing anything else. “Could you…pretend to?”

Will shut his eyes, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

So much for the power of prayer.

“Pretend?” Will repeated in a whisper, opening his eyes to look back at Lucas in disbelief. “You want me to…pretend?”

Lucas was gnawing on his lip, his eyes on his shoes.

“Pretend?” Will spat out, struggling to keep his voice level. Anger simmered just below the surface. His hands, which had started shaking the moment he had processed Lucas’ suggestion, now curled into fists. “Do you-?”

Will was forced to stop as his voice cracked. Taking advantage of the moment, he clenched his eyes shut and counted to three, breathing deeply. He wanted to calm himself, not wanting an explosive reaction to scare his friends off.

Friends.

How could someone who called himself Will’s “friend” ask him to do this?

“Do you have any idea what you are asking me to do?” Will forced out.

“I know,” Lucas confirmed quickly, his gaze snapping back up to peruse Will’s expression. He winced when he saw the hard look in the other boy’s eyes. Hesitantly, he reached out and gripped one of Will’s hands, as though hoping physical contact would make his words easier to accept. “But…Will, I really think that-”

“Asking me to pretend,” Will muttered, as though he hadn’t heard Lucas at all. “Asking me to hide.”

“You’ve always been good at that,” Lucas retorted, his lips curving up into a small smile, trying to ease the tension.

Will wasn’t in the mood.

“I shouldn’t have to be!” he shot back hotly, his knuckles white from clenching his fists too hard.

“I know,” Lucas repeated, sighing as his smile fell from his face. “But this is for your safety, Will. If you-”

“And what about the girl?” Will interrupted. His eyes had a faraway look as he thought over Lucas’ supposed solution. “I mean…I can’t tell her the real reason we’re dating. That wouldn’t go over well. So…what? I just let her think I’m into her? Let her think I have feelings for her? I don’t want to do that to someone.”

Unbidden, Will thought of Mike and El, of the relationship they might have had if Starcourt hadn’t come along and rattled everyone up, hadn’t caused them to take stock of their priorities.

Lucas was opening and closing his mouth as he thought of rebuttals and dismissed them.

“Will-” he attempted, finding his voice again, but Will had made his decision.

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head, refocusing on Lucas and glaring. He was still pissed that the other boy had made the suggestion to begin with. “Lucas, I…I know you’re trying to help in your…own way, but I can’t do that. It’s not right.”

“I know it’s not,” Lucas agreed, nodding rapidly, his expression contrite. “But Troy and James-”

“Troy and James have been going after me since kindergarten,” Will countered, his voice tired. Why was Lucas pushing this? Couldn’t he see that it wouldn’t help? If you took away one reason the bullies supposedly had for attacking you, they would just find another. They always did. “And despite what you think, Mike and I are careful. So they’re just going off rumors, if anything. So…no. Answer’s no.”

Lucas sighed yet again, releasing Will’s hand and flopping back in his seat, looking as weary as Will felt. Seeing his friend’s state, Will tried not to feel victorious that he seemed to have (at least for now) tabled the “let’s have Zombie Boy pretend not to be gay” solution.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Or maybe not.

Will’s attention shot to the foot of his bed and he blinked, staring at Max before her words registered.

“What?” Will asked defensively, his eyes narrowing as he took in the angry look on her face. “Something you want to say?”

She scoffed derisively, striding quickly from her position and claiming the other chair next to Will’s bed. Sitting down, she shot her boyfriend an unimpressed look.

“Nice job,” she shot out sarcastically, making Lucas shoot her a glare. Ignoring him, she focused on Will, crossing her arms and settling back in her chair. “Byers, we’re trying to save your damn life right now.”

“Great,” Will muttered, mopping a hand over his forehead, unsurprised to feel sweat there. He felt like it had been hours since he’d awoken to his mom saying his name. “So you’re in favor of this stupid idea too?”

“This ‘stupid idea,’” Max ground out, looking like she was seconds away from strangling him, “is the best thing we could think of to get some people off your back.”

“Troy and James have-” Will started, ready to repeat what he’d said to Lucas, but she cut him off.

“Those two idiots aren’t your only problem,” Max reminded him, her tone exasperated. “Didn’t you hear what he was saying?” Here, she flicked her wrist across the bed toward Lucas. “People think this town is cursed, right? And when did everything start?”

“My disappearance,” Will murmured irritatedly. Lucas had already said all this. Why was she repeating it?

“Very good!” she replied mockingly, clapping her hands like he was a child who had just recited the alphabet.

Will gritted his teeth to keep from spitting something insulting back at her. He hated being condescended to and she knew that.

“So, how do you think people would react if rumors start flying around that Will Byers was caught kissing-or more-with a boy?” she asked, one eyebrow raised challengingly. “What questions do you think people will have? Maybe they’ll start wondering if something…happened to you when you disappeared. Maybe someone or something did something to you.”

“They’ll start looking at your family,” Lucas spoke up now in support of his girlfriend, ignoring the way Will was looking at Max incredulously. “Everyone knows how desperate your mom was to get you back and you know what everyone says about her. What if they think she did something to get you back? Maybe she made a deal with…something.”

“What the hell are you guys implying?” Will questioned, his eyes continually shooting from Lucas to Max like he was watching a tennis match. His headache had returned but he was forcing his mind to think through the pain and despite it, he had an idea of what his friends were insinuating. “So, what? People are going to think my mom…made a deal with the Devil? Or that I’m secretly a demon in disguise? That’s crazy!”

“This town is crazy,” Max insisted, still looking at him challengingly, as though daring him to disagree. “As someone who hasn’t lived here her whole life, I can see it. This place is definitely…bad.”

“Which is why,” Lucas went on, leaning forward in his chair again, seemingly finding the strength to revisit his solution with Max’s support, “you need to do all you can to fit in.”

“Fit in?” Will questioned, focusing his glare on Lucas. “Since when do you care about fitting in?”

Will was struggling not to shout at the duo, but especially the ranger. This was the same Lucas who had chosen the Party over being one of the “cool kids” on the basketball team. The Lucas who had painted his shoes rainbow in solidarity after Will had come out to him.

And now he was stressing the importance of conformity?

Lucas closed his eyes, taking a sharp breath in through his nose and letting it dribble out slowly through his mouth, a calming exercise El had passed on to the group after learning it from his mom.

“Will,” Lucas said, his tone softer. He was looking apologetic but firm. “I wish I could hide what makes me different. But I can’t. You can.”

“It won’t work,” Will argued defiantly. “People in this town hate me already. They-”

“It’s not just you,” Max spoke up, leaning back and tugging anxiously at the armband on her wrist. “Will, you…you realize that by making yourself a target, you…you make us targets too, right?”

Will’s gaze snapped back to Max and he fought to prevent his mouth from shooting out his automatic angry response when he realized what she was implying.

“I didn’t realize being friends with me was such a burden for you,” he answered coolly, his expression guarded.

“Damnit, Will, that’s not what I’m saying!” Max snapped back, throwing up her hands as though he was being deliberately difficult.

“Sure sounded like what you were saying,” he shot back, his fists clenched once again.

“It’s just that-” she began again, trying to clarify and pausing to search for the words. “When you…when there’s a rumor about you, it usually turns into a rumor about the rest of us too. Your reputation,…it…taints us too.”

“Taints you?” Will repeated, scowling at her, ignoring the hurt feeling in his chest. “Thanks, Max.”

She huffed and shot up her chair, waving her hand as though saying she was done trying with him. She took a few steps away from the bed and began examining the same chart Jonathan had earlier.

Lucas reached out and squeezed his hand apologetically.

“She didn’t mean it like that,” he claimed, struggling between sympathizing with his friend and defending his girlfriend.

Will sent him a disgruntled look, causing the other boy to withdraw his hand.

“I didn’t,” Max confirmed and without meaning to, Will relaxed when he heard that her voice sounded gentler.

She turned back around to face them, biting her lip. She moved back toward them and retook her seat.

“Will,” she spoke up, holding his gaze even though she could see the anger still etched across his face. “I really didn’t mean it like that. I’m just…I’m scared, okay?”

Will jerked, startled.

Max, like Mike, was never the type to let others see her being vulnerable. Getting her to share her feelings was like getting Dustin to part with the popcorn bucket when they went to the movies. It required tact and a lot of prodding.

“I just-” Max went on, seemingly oblivious to his internal confusion. “After…after everything that’s happened with, you know, losing…losing Billy, I just…”

She trailed off and it took all of Will’s mental strength not to openly gape at her. He glanced in Lucas’ direction and found him looking at her sympathetically, confusing him further.

Since when did Max give a shit about Billy?

Will knew grief was complicated, better than most. But…

He remembered when she had visited him a few months ago, stomping past him into his house and plopping down onto his couch, proclaiming that if one more person told her they were sorry about what had happened to her step-brother, she was going to live up to her nickname and go full Mad Max.

Will knew grief was complicated, but what about the bruises? What about the cigarette burns? All the times he had grabbed her and hissed threats between his tobacco-stained teeth? What about trying to run them over simply because she told him they weren’t that bad? What about trying to beat up Lucas and blaming her for it, just because she dared to be a decent person who didn’t see people with darker skin as inferior and as people to be avoided?

Feeling guilty over his ultimate fate was one thing, but since when did Max miss Billy?

“I just don’t want to lose you too,” Max finished timidly, reaching out and squeezing one of Will’s shoulders.

“Y-yeah,” Will answered, still lost in thought, staring at Max like she was an alien.

She seemed to relax, giving him a small, close-lipped smile. She dropped her hand from his shoulder and leaned back in her chair.

“Listen,” she told him conspiratorially, a mischievous fire dancing in her eyes. “What you said earlier about not wanting to lead on some random girl. That’s…I get that. So…what if…you dated me?”

Will’s eyebrows shot up, becoming obscured by his bangs.

“What about-?” he started to ask before just gesturing between Lucas and her.

She waved his concern off dismissively.

“We’d have to ‘break up,’” Max explained, using air quotes. “But think about it! We could stage some big, dramatic break up in the middle of the cafeteria or something. Then you would be free to…you know.”

“Date you,” Will stated, still trying to comprehend this new development. “So…would I have to take you out on dates and-?”

She shook her head vigorously, grinning.

“No!” she informed him, before pausing and amending. “Okay, well…maybe when we hang out, we could just, like, hold hands or whatever. That way, people think we’re dating.”

“What about Lucas?” he asked her, jerking his head at the ranger. “I mean, I might not be labeled ‘gay’ anymore, but I will be labeled as the douchebag who stole his friend’s girlfriend.”

“At least that label won’t get you killed,” Lucas spoke up seriously. He grinned then. “This way, the only person at risk of wanting you dead is me.”

Will tried to smile, but he couldn’t quite do it. This felt…wrong.

“I know it’s not ideal, Byers,” Max commented softly, seeing his expression. “But this is all to keep you safe.”

“What about Mike?” Will asked.

Lucas and Max exchanged glances, shrugging.

“I guess he could go back to pretending to date El?” Max suggested, making Will’s heart feel like it was being trampled on. “Dustin will just have to deal with it.”

“Are they even dating?” Lucas questioned, tone curious.

“I don’t know,” Max replied, shrugging. “Well…whatever they have going on, Dustin will have to keep it secret so he doesn’t blow Mike’s cover.”

“That’s not fair,” Will whispered, voice low enough that he knew they couldn’t hear him.

“Right, well,” Max said, standing up, Lucas mirroring the movement. “I guess we should get going.”

“See you, Will,” Lucas said quietly, nodding at the other boy as he made his way toward the door.

“Yeah,” Will responded, his voice sounding hollow even to himself. “See you.”

Lucas disappeared out the door and Max followed after, giving him a small wave before departing.

Alone once again, Will took the opportunity to try to gather his thoughts.

He felt like crying.

He drew in an unsteady breath, shutting his eyes as though that would quench the tears and prevent them from falling, but he could feel them running down his face.

Opening his eyes, Will could see, blurred by the tears, that his hands were shaking.

He knew Lucas and Max were just trying to keep him safe, but he couldn’t help but resent Lucas for suggesting the idea in the first place.

Will knew who he was. He didn’t give a shit about fitting in. Why would he want to? Hawkins was full of mouthbreathers. Why would he want other people to think he was one too?

But then he remembered what Max had said.

Was he really “tainting” his friends’ chances at acceptance? Was he, like Dustin seemed to be suggesting, bringing suffering on them by openly associating with them?

Was he dragging them down?

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear his mom re-enter the room.

“Honey?” she called out, causing Will’s head to snap up, surprised.

She was looking worriedly back at him, eyes darting to inspect every inch of his face. He noticed she was clutching a mini bag of potato chips, holding it out to him.

He reached out and took the proffered snack, tossing it onto the side table when he saw the label. He didn’t like that flavor, which normally wouldn’t stop him. He hadn’t exactly been able to be picky with his snack choices growing up. But he just didn’t feel like pasting on a smile and pretending right now, even if that’s what others wanted him to do.

“Is everything okay?” his mother asked softly, wincing when she heard Will sniffling.

“I-'' Will began before stopping. What should he say? He could wipe the tears out of his eyes, lift his head, give his mom a forced smile, and claim he was fine. But…why? What was the point? “No.”

His mom reached out and took his hand, squeezing it, telling him wordlessly to continue.

“Lucas-” Will started, his voice trembling. He used his other hand to wipe his eyes. “He thinks I should…pretend to date Max.”

His mother grimaced, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

“What do you think about that idea?” she prodded him, voice quiet.

“I think it’s stupid!” Will burst out, breathing heavily as he continued in a rush. “I mean, I get it! I do! But…I…I hate it! Why should I have to pretend, Mom? I shouldn’t have to!”

Will cut off, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his head between them. He didn’t want his mom to see him crying.

Joyce looked on with a sad expression, watching Will’s breakdown. His shoulders shook with near-silent sobs and she attempted to calm him by running a hand down his back.

It was futile.

“I thought that they-” Will went on, his voice muffled. “I thought they…”

He trailed off, but he knew his mom got the message:

I thought they weren’t like Lonnie.

After all, Lonnie had wanted Will to hide too and he had also claimed it was for Will’s safety.

“I hate it here,” he mumbled, voice raw with emotion. “I hate this town.”

Joyce sucked in a breath, looking pensive.

“What if-?” she started, pausing as she thought over how to phrase her query. “What if we could go somewhere else?”

Will stilled and after a few seconds, he lifted his head to stare quizzically at her. His face was flushed, tear tracks evident.

“You mean,” Will asked hesitantly, studying her. “You mean like…moving?”

This wasn’t the first time she had voiced the idea. She’d sat Jonathan and him down a few days after Starcourt, tentatively suggesting that perhaps they needed a change of scenery, something to help them start over in a fresh place with no bad memories weighing them down.

Thankfully, Jon and he, combined with Hopper and the rest of the Party, had talked her out of it. He remembered the look his brother had sent him after she had finally tabled the idea, a look unconsciously mirrored on his own face. Both siblings were thinking the same thing:

Seriously? She actually thought that was a good idea?

Now though…Will admitted to himself that maybe the idea had merit.

Why should he stay here, in a town that hated him for existing?

What about his friends?

But…

Were they really his friends?

Because he thought his friends understood him when he said he was comfortable with himself and didn’t feel like hiding.

He thought his friends had been telling the truth when they said they didn’t care who he liked or how he acted.

But clearly, they had lied.

Seeing his mother nod in response to his question, Will’s shoulders slumped.

He closed his eyes, his forehead wrinkling in thought.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea…

Still…

Will opened his eyes to his mother’s expectant face.

“Can I-?” he forced out, seeming to choke on his words. Will cleared his throat and finished his question. “Can I think about it?”

His mother’s brows furrowed in confusion. She was surprised at his noncommittal answer.

“I just-” Will continued, trying to explain. “I need to talk to Mike first. Is…is that okay?”

His mom’s expression softened and she nodded.

“I’ll go see if I can find him,” she promised, standing up and moving toward the door. She sent him one last searching look before disappearing from the room.

Once she was no longer around to interrogate him, Will re-sequestered his head between his knees, breathing deeply in and out, trying to slow his racing thoughts.

He felt the tears coming again and Will aggressively swiped his arm across his face, not wanting to look like a mess when Mike showed up, although he knew his friend wouldn’t blame him for his rumpled appearance.

Will didn’t know how long he remained in his hunched position. He knew time passed, although he had no way of telling how much. He had no window, but he figured that by now, the sun must have started peeking out from behind the clouds, if it hadn’t risen entirely.

He ignored the outside world, keeping his head burrowed, his thoughts drifting lazily.

Will didn’t hear his arrival as much as he felt it.

Lifting his head once more from between his knees, Will’s breath hitched as he caught sight of the room’s new occupant.

“Mike."

The other boy didn’t verbally respond to Will’s greeting, choosing instead to gesture to one of the chairs at his bedside, silently asking for permission to sit.

Will raised a questioning eyebrow, confused at his boyfriend’s quietness. It wasn’t like the paladin. Regardless, he nodded and Mike sat, claiming the spot Lucas had occupied.

Will watched him closely, his mind racing. He had a million questions to ask him.

“Why did you let me bike home alone?” he blurted out, cringing when he saw Mike’s startled expression.

Okay.

So that might not have been the best question to go with first.

Mike’s face shed its surprise and he raised an eyebrow, looking similar at that moment to Max.

“I figured you were a big boy and could handle it,” Mike replied. He snorted before continuing. “Obviously, I was wrong.”

Will reared back, his mouth dropping open.

What the hell?

Will’s face went through a myriad of expressions before landing on annoyance.

“Wow, okay, asshole,” Will answered sarcastically, shifting to hide his clenched fists beneath the bed sheets. “Good to see you too.”

Mike seemed to hesitate, as if unsure of his actions. He finally scooted his chair closer and placed his hand on the bed, a few inches from Will’s own.

He didn’t take it, though.

Will tried not to read into that.

“How you doing?” Mike asked, and Will frowned at the other boy’s tone. Like Dustin, Mike seemed to be asking the question out of obligation.

“I’m fine,” Will responded shortly. His gaze was piercing into Mike’s face. “What about you? I’ve been wondering where you were.”

“Oh, I’ve-” Mike started, before cutting off and waving his hand dismissively. “I’ve been…getting some air. Clearing my head.”

Will shot him a dubious look. He was sure there was more Mike wasn’t telling him but decided to back off for now.

Both boys descended into silence and Will couldn’t help but think Mike must be more rattled from finding him getting pummeled by Troy and James than Dustin and Lucas even suspected. Mike seemed…dead. He stared at his shoes in silence, his fingers completely still in his lap. He didn’t hum or shake his leg. Mike seemed even more unresponsive to the world than Dustin had.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” Mike announced suddenly.

Will raised an eyebrow, a smile dancing on his lips.

“Is that why you’re so grumpy?” Will asked, smirking. “Do you have a headache? I got some pain meds I could give you.”

His teasing coaxed a small upturn at the corners of Mike’s mouth, but otherwise went ignored.

“We need to talk,” Mike told him softly, his eyes flicking between the floor and Will’s face.

Will tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

He might not be as into those stupid soap operas as El was, but even he knew what that line usually meant.

“Okay,” Will replied softly, trying not to fidget nervously. He focused on Mike intently. “What about?”

Mike sighed and Will noticed that he closed his eyes before nodding to himself.

“I don’t know if the others have had a chance to talk to you,” Mike started before tilting his head in thought and amending. “I mean, I know Dustin has-”

“He might as well have not,” Will responded, snorting. “It was like making conversation with a brick wall.”

Mike tried to smile but it looked forced.

“And then Lucas,” Will continued when Mike didn’t continue right away. He tried not to feel guilty about the way he practically sneered when saying the other boy’s name. “He had this bizarre idea that I should pretend to date a girl! And then, get this, Max volunteered to be that girl!”

Mike didn’t say anything.

“I just-” Will started, biting his lip to stop himself. He didn’t want to start ranting. “I thought…I thought they were cool with…everything. With me. You know? But no, I guess they want me to do what’s easy for them. I mean…I know they say it's easier for me, but it’s…it’s not, you know? I don’t want to have to hide…who I am. Why should I? For Hawkins? Come on.”

“Will,” Mike spoke up, his voice somehow filling the space despite his quiet tone.

Will looked up from his lap and locked his curious eyes with Mike’s pleading ones.

And just like that, he understood.

Will felt like he was trying to swallow a golf ball.

“It was your idea,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Mike’s eyes left his face. He seemed to be interested in studying the wrinkles in the bedsheets.

“Why?” Will choked out, his own gaze never leaving Mike.

Mike was silent and Will noticed his eyes had shut again.

“Why, Mike?” Will asked again, raising his voice and trying to sound more demanding. He wasn’t going to let Mike get out of this without answering him.

“Come on, Will,” Mike whispered at last, lifting his head and giving him a desperate look. “Think about it. I mean, you were attacked-”

“Oh God, not you too!” Will groaned, slumping back and feeling the back of his head hit the headboard.

“Why would they attack you now?” Mike asked, just as Lucas had. “Unless they had something-”

“Nobody saw us, Mike!” Will protested, resisting the urge to slam his head repeatedly against the headboard in his frustration.

“But what if someone did?” Mike speculated, his voice a hiss as he fought to control his panic. “I mean…shit, Will! If the wrong person sees us, if anyone sees us, my parents will-”

He cut off, too afraid to even give voice to the possibility.

Will sucked on his lip before responding.

“Mike,” he said slowly, treading cautiously. “I get that you’re scared. Okay? But…I mean, this? This is Troy and James. This is nothing…new. You know?”

“It’s not just them though,” Mike argued, shaking his head. “Will, this whole town will turn on us if they find out.”

Will nodded, but evidently, Mike didn’t think he got the point.

“Everyone,” he emphasized, his voice trembling. “Not just the bullies and the usual assholes. Everyone! The mailman. The people at the grocery store checkout. Everyone at school, even the teachers. This entire town! If we blow our cover, we might not make it to graduation!”

Will sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling numb all over.

Mike was right, and he had always known the same.

But hearing the other boy say it out loud, sounding so scared, but so sure that it would happen…

“It’s too risky, Will,” Mike explained, raking a hand through his hair with a quivering hand. “And so, I…I think we should…break things off.”

Will’s heart skipped several beats.

“Mike, wait,” he said frantically. Mike was nodding, as though trying to convince himself of his current choice. “Wait! We don’t have to do this, okay? Look, I know you’re scared. I-I am, too. But we don’t have to break things off. We can…we just have to take some precautions. That’s all.”

“No,” Mike insisted, refusing to look at Will and the younger boy knew the reason was because Mike could never say no to him when he was crying, which he definitely was right now. Will could feel the tears streaking down his cheeks. “It’s too risky, Will. With everything going on…in this town…it’s…it’s not worth it, okay?”

Will pressed his lips together to keep a sob contained, but he was only partially successful.

“I-” Will tried to speak, but his voice was croaky from crying and he coughed. He tried to clear his throat and began again. “I’m not…worth it?”

Mike pressed his own lips together and didn’t respond.

Will felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Mike, wait!” he tried again. “We-listen! We go everywhere with the Party, right? And we’ll walk-we’ll walk on opposite sides of the group. We won’t be anywhere near each other!”

“Will-” Mike tried to interrupt, shaking his head, his tone resigned, but Will continued.

“I won’t even look at you at school!” Will promised, voice shaky. “And-and I can get different classes. I’ll have my mom handle it. I mean, we might even convince people we hate each other!”

He ended this statement with something between a laugh and a sob.

But Mike was still shaking his head.

“It won’t work, Will,” he informed him sadly. “It won’t be enough.”

“Mike, please!” Will begged him, choking out the last word around the lump that had returned to his throat.

He wanted to convince Mike that he was wrong so badly.

But the other boy had always been so stubborn.

Under Mike’s unyielding expression, Will felt the fight slowly leak from his body and he felt his shoulders drop.

He felt cold and could make out a faint ringing in his eyes as he brought his knees back up to his chest and tucked his head between them.

Will didn’t feel any shifting on the bed, meaning Mike was making an effort to be still too.

Or maybe he had left already.

Will wasn’t sure which option he preferred right then.

The enclosed space made his breath sound loud in his ears and Will knew the heat from his exhales was turning his face red.

When Mike still hadn’t spoken up, Will gave voice to the thought circling through his brain.

“My mom thinks we should move,” he told him, keeping his face hidden but raising his voice so Mike could hear.

There was silence for a few seconds before Mike spoke.

“Maybe you should,” the other boy encouraged. “I…I’d miss you. But…maybe it would be a…good way to…start over.”

“Start over,” Will muttered bitterly, snorting. “Yeah.”

“You could get away from everything that’s here,” Mike went on, as though oblivious to Will’s tone. “Get away from the Upside Down and…everything it caused. You could…start a new life. Make new friends. Get a girl-boyfriend.”

Will felt his breath catch as Mike’s slip registered.

“You were about to say ‘girlfriend,’” Will pointed out. His face was still hidden and so Mike didn’t see the hard look in his eyes.

“I…no, I wasn’t,” Mike claimed, and Will clenched his eyes shut and huffed because Mike was such a bad liar.

“Yes, you were,” Will insisted, and then he felt like a boulder had dropped into his chest when he put two and two together, realizing what Mike was implying.

He slowly lifted his head and stared hard at a guilty-looking Mike.

“Mike,” he questioned, trying to keep the bite out of his voice. “Do you think…the Upside Down…made me gay?”

Mike’s silence was answer enough.

“Are you…are you joking?” Will asked and his hands fell back to his sides, curling once more into fists. He knew he was glaring at Mike now. “Mike, are you kidding me?”

“Will, I-” Mike started, stopping to choose his words carefully. A wise decision. “I just…how do you know? That you…like guys?’

Or maybe not such a wise decision.

“How do I-?” Will started to repeat before breaking off and staring at Mike, flabbergasted. If possible, his fists clenched tighter, turning his knuckles as white as porcelain.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

His supposed best friend had just asked him whether he was sure about…about who he liked. About who he was attracted to.

Of course he knew!

The same way Mike did! Or Lucas. Or Dustin. Or Jonathan, even.

“I know,” Will gritted out, trying to speak despite the fury in his tone. Mike must have sensed it because his eyes went wide and he suddenly looked apologetic, but it was too late. “I know, Mike! The same way you know who you like! The same way anyone does! Honestly, what a stupid question!”

Mike winced and looked contrite but Will didn’t care.

“They never bother asking straight boys how they know they like girls,” Will muttered sarcastically. “Ever notice that?”

Mike was nodding now, agreeing with Will, trying to apologize.

“It doesn’t even matter,” Will declared. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to anyone else. I shouldn’t have to justify how I know! It’s my. Damn. Choice! I’m the only one whose opinion matters!”

“You’re right,” Mike said quickly, nodding rapidly. “I’m sorry, Will.”

Will huffed, deciding not to accept his apology. He was still pissed, but he unclenched his fists but kept his guard up.

Honestly, for a second there, Mike had sounded a lot like…

“But, uh, yeah,” Mike said, returning to his earlier topic. “You could make new friends. Get a boyfriend. Maybe…maybe take up a sport or something. Then, you know, maybe kids won’t hassle you so much.”

Will’s teeth pressed together again. At this rate, he was going to need some dental work done.

He was also going to need a new best friend because, my God, Mike kept messing up.

“Jesus Christ!” Will spat out, shaking his head and looking at Mike in disgust. He decided to voice his earlier thought. It fit even better, given Mike’s last statement. “You sound like Lonnie!”

He hoped those words would rattle Mike, would cause him to rear back maybe and begin issuing a flood of apologies.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Instead, Mike said the last words Will ever expected to hear him say.

“Maybe he was right,” Mike stated, his expression firm.

Will couldn’t help himself.

He reared back, shocked.

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, like that time the kickball had smacked him right in the chest.

He stared back at Mike, not even bothering to mask his betrayed expression.

He couldn’t believe the other boy had just said that.

Mike knew. He knew what Lonnie had done, knew how he had made him feel.

Like he was inadequate.

Once again, Will’s mind returned to that familiar mantra:

It didn’t make sense.

There was simply no way that the Mike he fell in love with…

There was no way he would say that to him.

Will felt his eyes widen and he refocused quickly on Mike, scrutinizing his appearance.

There had to be a…

There.

Will felt a victorious smile stretch across his face, but he quickly squashed it. He instead twisted his face into a sad expression, the expression he knew was expected of him right now.

“Hey, uh,” Will stammered, trying to make his voice sound fragile, small. “Thanks for coming, but…I’m kind of tired. Do you mind…?”

He trailed off, but his message was received.

“Yeah, no problem,” Mike assured him, nodding and smiling slightly. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around. Okay?”

Will nodded back.

Mike nodded again before rising from his chair, turning, and making his way to the door.

He was five steps away when Will spoke up.

“Mike?” he called out meekly.

Mike turned back to face him, a questioning look on his face.

“I just want to say one thing,” Will stated, making eye contact. “Just one thing, okay? No interrupting. I…just want to get this out. And then you can go.”

A smile quirked on Mike’s lips.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” he replied jokily.

“It wasn’t the Upside Down,” Will averred seriously.

The smile slipped from Mike’s face and he looked guilty.

“Will, about what I said before, I-” he started but Will cut across him.

“No interrupting,” Will reminded him.

Mike’s mouth snapped shut and he nodded, gesturing for Will to continue.

“It wasn’t the Upside Down,” Will repeated before elaborating. “Mike, I…I have loved you for a very long time. I can remember the first time I felt it.”

Mike raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“It was my birthday,” Will explained, smiling as though reminiscing. “My sixth birthday. The first one you were around for. I came to school and you gave me that…bracelet. It was two different colors. Black and blue. It was made of pipe cleaners. You weren’t the best at crafts, but…you made it for me. Do you remember?”

Mike smiled.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Of course I remember.”

Will swallowed, wondering if he should go on. He didn’t need to.

“Do you remember what you said?” Will pressed him, but then answered before Mike could say anything. “You said that we would always be together.”

Mike chuckled, nodding, before his face became serious.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Look, Will, I…I remember, okay? But…come on, man. A pipe cleaner bracelet? And that promise, that…that was a kid promise. We were five…or at least I was. That was…that was kid stuff. It wasn’t…it wasn’t real. You know?”

Will nodded slowly, dropping his gaze to his lap.

“Yeah,” he said, making his voice sound hoarse. “You’re right.”

In his peripheral vision, Will saw Mike nod again before he turned and began walking to the door again.

Mike stopped when his hand was on the doorknob and glanced back.

“I’m sorry, Will,” he said awkwardly.

Will exhaled, his shoulders slumping in relief.

He waited for the other boy to turn back around before responding.

“I would be too,” he commented, lifting his head and leveling his gaze at the other boy. “If you were Mike.”

Will saw the way the older boy froze before slowly turning back to face him.

By the time he had, Will was already smiling. He couldn’t help it.

He was so relieved.

“I’m sorry?” Mike asked, lifting his eyebrows, looking amused himself. He spotted Will’s smile and returned it, obviously thinking Will was playing some kind of joke on him.

“You heard me,” Will retorted, shedding the amusement from his face and turning a hard look on the other boy. He spat out his next words. “You’re not Mike.”

“Will, what are you talking about?” Mike replied, sighing in exasperation. He shook his head and pressed his fingers to the back of his neck, rubbing it, like he had a headache. “I-”

“Mike made me a sandcastle,” Will revealed, not even bothering to hide the triumph in his voice. “For my sixth birthday.”

Mike froze and…there! There it was!

For just a second, Will saw panic in the other boy’s eyes.

“No,” Mike alleged, shaking his head and stepping closer to a still smiling Will. “No, I…I made you a pipe cleaner bracelet-”

“No, you didn’t,” Will sang back, smirking now. “I lied about that.”

The look of panic reappeared before it was replaced by stubbornness.

“No,” Mike claimed, shaking his head roughly. “No, I made you a pipe cleaner bracelet. I remember.”

“Well, that’s funny,” Will remarked, rolling his eyes. “Because I don’t.”

“Well, obviously, your brain is more fucked up than we thought!” Mike snarked back, his face stormy.

Will just snorted.

“Yeah, you’re not helping your case,” Will dryly informed the interloper. “Mike is a lot of things, but he’s not mean. I mean…he says stuff sometimes without thinking. But he’s not…he doesn’t say stuff like that.”

‘Mike’ made to reply but Will cut him off.

“For example,” Will said, smirking again. “Mike would never say he thought Lonnie might be right.”

Here, Will’s face darkened and he clenched his jaw.

“He hates him,” Will enlightened the imposter. “He has ever since the first time he saw me come to school crying my eyes out over some mean shit he’d said to me.”

‘Mike’ was chewing his lip, trying to salvage the situation.

“Will, I seriously think you need to lie back down,” he finally said, schooling his face into an anxious expression. “I’ll go get-”

“Really?” Will cut him off, rolling his eyes, unimpressed. Was this the fraud’s best idea? Blaming everything on Will’s supposed brain damage? Now that he thought about it…

Will threw off the bed sheets, standing up for the first time.

He felt fine.

“Strange,” Will mocked the wide-eyed pretender. “I don’t feel injured at all. No headaches. No tiredness. Nothing.”

He took a few steps closer to the room’s other occupant, feeling giddy when the doppelganger backed up.

“What’s wrong?” Will inquired scornfully. “Demodog got your tongue?”

He snorted again and shook his head when the impersonator showed confusion at the unfamiliar word.

‘Mike’ could clearly see that Will was laughing at him and his face hardened.

“Listen,” he hissed out, growing more angry when he saw Will rolling his eyes. “I-”

“Enough.”

The word, though spoken in a soft tone, seemed to echo around the room, as though emanating from the walls.

Will’s eyes were darting around, but they returned to ‘Mike’ just in time to see the thing pretending to be his best friend dissolve into what looked like black dust, crumbling as though the figure had been made of the same material as the aforementioned sandcastle.

Will was busy studying the sand as it sunk into the ground and so he missed the entrance of another figure, the shadows at the corners of the room seemingly converging to form him.

“Well done,” the figure spoke up, using the same voice as the one that had echoed from the walls.

Will’s head snapped to his right to find…

"So…I’m guessing you’re not really a doctor?”

Gossamer seemed to chuckle at Will’s question, but the sound was odd. It sounded fake, like someone who knew of the concept of laughter but had never had cause to perform the action himself.

“Not the kind you’re thinking of,” Gossamer replied, his voice once again adopting its soft, almost musical quality. His eyes were fixed firmly on Will, studying him with an intensity the cleric had never seen.

“...Right,” Will muttered. His eyes left Gossamer and studied the room. There was nothing new. It still looked like a typical hospital room. “Where am I?”

“What do you mean?” the man asked, tilting his head in question.

Will raised an eyebrow, huffing in annoyance.

“Can someone be in more than one place at once?” he snarked, challenging him.

Gossamer just smiled.

“Certainly,” he revealed. “In your case, your mind is…well…in here. With me. And-”

“Where is ‘here’”? Will asked, hoping for clarification.

Gossamer’s eyes narrowed and Will got the impression that the man was angry at being interrupted.

The man sighed, as though tired of dealing with Will. Or…maybe just tired in general. Looking closer, Will noticed Gossamer’s hands were trembling and his expression was weary.

“You seem tired,” Will pointed out. “Long day of impersonating my friends?”

As though Will’s question had reminded Gossamer of his exhaustion, the man’s shoulders sagged, and for a split second, the room they both were standing in vanished, and Will caught a glimpse of a familiar dark landscape, overlooked by red skies.

Of course.

“I’m in the Upside Down,” he realized, his gaze snapping back to Gossamer when the man nodded in confirmation.

“In part,” he explained. “Your mind is here, in the place you call the Upside Down. But your physical body is-”

He cut off and closed his eyes, concentrating. His head was tilted, as though listening for something.

“Yes,” he murmured, seemingly getting his answer. He opened his eyes and resumed his studying of Will. “Your body is currently floating near the ceiling of Jim Hopper’s cabin.”

Will’s heart leapt into his throat.

Suddenly, the memories he hadn’t been able to access before came flooding in.

Standing with the Party, his birthday cake abandoned by the table as they all stood in the living room, grouped around the television as a news reporter informed them of the death of Chrissy Cunningham.

Arguing with Hopper, trying to convince him of Eddie Munson’s innocence.

Watching as Max floated higher and higher into the sky, while his heart sunk lower and lower.

Floating.

Gossamer had said he was floating.

Will’s breath caught.

Pulling himself from his memories, Will observed the man, before giving him his proper name, the one they had all agreed on.

“Vecna,” Will whispered, thanking whoever controlled the cosmos that his voice didn’t stammer. “You’re Vecna.”

Goss-Vecna raised an eyebrow.

“Interesting choice of name,” he mused, looking like he was trying to decide whether to be offended that he hadn’t been allowed to name himself. “I suppose Mike Wheeler chose it?”

“I did, actually,” Will corrected him, glaring hard. This disgusting creature wasn’t anywhere near being worthy of saying Mike’s name.

“I see,” Vecna noted, his gaze seeming to intensify.

Will looked away.

“What is this place?” He questioned, gesturing around the room. “I mean…how does it exist?”

“Because of you,” Vecna explained, nodding at him. “This room is something I created using your memories. Mostly. Some of Max Mayfield’s.”

At hearing Max’s name, Will looked back at Vecna, examining him critically.

“Speaking of which,” Will muttered. “You don’t look anything like how she described. You get a makeover or something?”

Rather than chuckling at Will’s comment, Vecna’s face contorted, and Will was startled at the look of utter loathing that was now present.

“That’s because of her,” he snarled out, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Will watched cautiously, unconsciously taking a step back.

His eyes widened when he saw the room flicker around him again, this time repeatedly, like a projector that was finding its place.

Eventually, Vecna regained control of his temper and the room settled.

“Yes,” he carried on with forced patience. “I…this is my old appearance. What I looked like before. I can’t…can’t use it all the time. Like maintaining this room, it requires…effort on my part. But…”

Something Vecna had said was niggling at Will’s brain.

“Wait, so…you’re human?” he asked.

Vecna stopped his explanation and looked at him, annoyed once more at being interrupted, before Will’s question registered and he smirked.

“I’m much more than that,” he boasted. “At least, I am now.”

Will resisted the urge to scoff.

So, a human who thinks he’s hot shit, he thought. We’ve handled plenty of those.

Will knew in the back of his mind that Vecna was much more dangerous than he was currently giving him credit for. He knew that. But still, something about the guy’s attitude irked him.

“If you’re so powerful,” Will wondered aloud. “How come we’re just meeting now?”

Again, a flicker of annoyance crossed Vecna’s face, although Will got the feeling that, this time, it wasn’t directed at him.

“I have been…prevented from interacting with you or your companions before now,” he revealed.

Will was curious.

“Prevented by whom?” he asked.

Vecna definitely looked amused now, but it was undercut by dark malice.

“By my patron,” he supplied a confused Will. “I believe the two of you are already acquainted.”

The realization hit Will like a truck.

He felt like ice water was pumping through his veins.

If he opened his mouth, Will imagined frost would issue forth.

The Mind Flayer.

Will’s terrified expression seemed to please Vecna.

"Yes," he mused, nodding. "He'll be pleased to know he left a lasting impression on you."

Will ran toward the door and yanked at it, trying not to panic when he realized he was locked in.

He couldn't speak and suddenly, he realized he didn't need to.

He was done talking.

It was one thing to stand here and taunt Vecna when he thought he was some lone lunatic.

But anyone taking orders from him was not someone Will wanted to be stuck in a room with.

Will turned his face away from Vecna, his eyes darting around as his mind brought forth and dismissed possibilities rapidly.

An idea slowly formed in the back of his mind.

Vecna had constructed this room from his memories.

Based on some of the things he had seen, Will had a feeling it was adaptive, constantly updating.

It was looking for ammunition to use against him.

Doubts. Insecurities.

Fear.

Which meant his mind must have some control over this space.

He had no clue if this would work.

Closing his eyes in thought, Will imagined that he was back in Hawkins Lab, surrounded by Owens' men.

He distantly remembered the way he had stared anxiously at the door, flinching every time it had opened, fearing that this new person would be someone else who needed to "study" him, which always caused pain.

Latching onto that memory, Will turned to the door and he smirked victoriously when he heard the lock click. His eyes popped open just in time to see the door swing in, revealing the lobby.

"How did you-?" Vecna hesitantly began, but Will was already gone.

He dashed from the room, skidding to a stop in the hallway, trying to rapidly take his surroundings in.

Suddenly, every door which Will could duck through slammed shut. An alarm began to blare, accompanied by a flashing light. Will thought it sounded like the alarm at Hawkins Lab and he knew Vecna had retrieved it from the recesses of his memory.

"Did you think it would be that easy?" Vecna's voice came from behind him and Will spun around to find the man himself walking slowly up the hallway toward him. "That you could just…magically open a door and escape?"

Will was trying to ignore him, scanning his surroundings desperately for a way out.

There was nothing.

He spun back around, facing Vecna, and began slowly backing away.

"I'm glad I was able to meet you before you died," Vecna commented thoughtfully, continuing to walk toward him. "Although I must admit, given the way my patron spoke of you, I was expecting…more."

Will swallowed and despite his fear, despite the fact that he swore he could hear the Mind Flayer's taunting voice whispering in his ear, he fixed Vecna with a hateful glare.

"So was I," he shot back boldly. "You know, Max made you sound terrifying. You don't seem that scary to me."

Vecna's face contorted with anger and, like earlier, Will saw his surroundings flicker.

And just like that, Will knew what to do.

"Yeah," Will continued mercilessly, grinning when he thought of new material. "You know, I bet your patron keeps you out of sight because he's embarrassed about having such a weak servant!"

"I am not a servant!" Vecna growled, his pupils dilated as his voice shook with fury.

"Sorry," Will apologized, looking falsely penitent before his face became smug. "I meant lackey."

Vecna's eyes widened, looking torn between rage and disbelief. The room was now flickering between existence and non-existence like a faulty light. Will was reminded of the story his mother had told him of talking to him through the Christmas lights.

"I didn't realize you were suicidal as well, Will," he ground out. "If I had known that, this all could have been so much simpler."

"I'm actually feeling kind of homicidal," Will corrected him, shrugging his shoulders. His expression darkened and he glared at Vecna, trying his best to imitate how Jonathan looked at Lonnie. "You came after my friends."

"Your friends," Vecna mocked, sneering at him. "Your friends have already lost."

"Don't underestimate us," Will said warningly, allowing himself to smirk as he added. "Your patron did. And I'm guessing he's a lot smarter than you."

Vecna looked ready to strangle him and interestingly enough, the room was no longer flickering but now seemed to be fading entirely. Will knew it wouldn't take much more.

"You won then because of the girl," Vecna replied, calming slightly and dismissing his claim with a lazy gesture. "But now? You have no chance."

Will noticed the way he spat out the word "girl" and forced himself to hide his triumphal grin.

He had a feeling he'd just stumbled onto a whole cache of fuel.

This room would be gone in no time.

"You know, I noticed something," Will commented, furrowing his brows as though the observation had just occurred to him. "You had all these people come to see me, trying to convince me that nobody cared about me. My mom, Jon, all my friends. Except for El."

Vecna stopped abruptly, halting his advance toward Will. His face had become tight.

"Why was that?" Will asked, genuinely curious. "Did you think I'd figure it out too soon? Because you had everyone acting mean and you knew El didn't have a mean bone in her body and I'd see through all this too quickly?"

Vecna's eyes were closed tight, seeming to temporarily adhere to the childish belief that something that could not be seen could neither be heard.

"Or maybe it's because you knew you couldn't trust yourself to even try to portray her accurately," Will speculated. "I've noticed that talking about her makes you really angry."

A sudden realization occurred to Will, and he resisted the urge to snicker.

"You know," Will hypothesized wryly. "I think I know why your patron didn't want you interacting with us. When it comes to El, you clearly can't think straight."

Vecna was seething, even as he shook his head back and forth like a child, trying to deny the truth of something.

"And why shouldn't you feel angry?" Will whispered, stepping close to Vecna and leaning in to deliver his last words. "She. Beat. You."

The room exploded outward.

A split second later, the shards had dissolved into the same black sand that had made up the imposter Mike.

Will didn't waste any time.

He turned and ran.

It took him a few seconds before he realized he didn't quite know what he was running toward, but Will wasn't willing to slow down. Vecna would seize any opportunity, would clamp down on any weakness.

And then he heard it:

I would break down at your feet

And beg forgiveness, plead with you

Will grinned to himself.

Thank God he had been extremely vocal about his favorite song.

He didn’t even want to think about what harm might have befallen his psyche if he had Should I Stay or Should I Go pumping into his ears right now.

At that moment, Will spotted what Max had described.

The tear in space.

The portal.

And he ran for it.

Will was only dimly aware of Vecna behind him, but strangely, it didn't feel like the monster was drawing any closer. It seemed he wasn't even bothering to pursue him.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and following his instincts, Will glanced up, his eyes widening when he saw the chunk of rock hurtling towards him.

Shit!

Will threw himself to his left, ignoring the way his legs and hands smarted from the pain. He felt the rock crash down behind him and as soon as it had settled, he was on his feet and running again.

He saw something twitch down by his feet and jumped just in time to avoid a gnarled root that had wormed its way up, trying to trip him.

The portal was so close.

Will swore he could hear his friends yelling, pleading with him to wake up.

The portal emitted light and from up close, it seemed brighter than the Sun, but Will kept running, squinting his eyes before shutting them entirely.

He ran blindly toward the light.

Toward his friends.

Until suddenly he wasn't running at all.

He felt like he was floating.

Suspended in the air.

Will only saw darkness now.

Complete, utter darkness.

He feared he might be staring at this for the rest of his life.

Had something gone wrong?

Will tried to speak, to cry out, to do anything, but it was in vain.

He could do nothing.

And he could only see darkness.

…

…

…

"WILL!"

Will's eyes snapped open and suddenly he could see everything, could feel everything, and he felt the air shooting past his body as he fell unceremoniously to the ground.

He crashed down hard, thankfully landing on something soft.

Will was laying on his back, blinking rapidly to restore his vision. It was all still only swirls of colors. He felt like someone was standing on his chest.

He could hear voices now talking above him.

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!"

"Will, can you hear me?!"

"Harrington, grab him!"

"Byers, can you hear anything?"

"Shut up! You're overwhelming him!"

"If he is being overwhelmed, it's probably because of your grating voice!"

"Everyone, shut up right now and back away from him!"

The other voices cut off at once.

Will felt a hand on his shoulder and could just barely make out a figure leaning over him.

"Will?" the voice questioned urgently. " Will, honey, can you hear me?"

Will gasped as the pressure on his chest finally let up and as it did, the vague shape of the figure above him became recognizable.

"Mom?" he breathed out, and when he saw the way her face lit up, he finally felt at peace. He smiled crookedly at her. "Hi."

Someone behind his mom let out a pained yelp and before Will knew it, someone else had dropped down and placed their hand on his other shoulder.

"Will!"

Will made to speak but couldn't over the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in his throat. He swallowed repeatedly until he was finally able to talk.

"Mike," he choked out, his hand twitching at his side. He made to reach up and take Mike's hand, but a sharp voice cut him off.

"Don't!"

A third figure was moving over him, before kneeling at his side.

"Will, don't move anything yet, okay?" the figure requested, and a moment later, Will placed the voice as belonging to Hopper. He sounded anxious, his voice shaking. "I want to make sure nothing's broken. When I tell you to, I want you to move and bend each limb gently. Got it? Don't move your neck. I don't know if that's…you know. Don't nod. Just answer verbally. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Will responded, being careful not to move his head.

"Alright, let's do this," Hopper began and for the next few minutes, the chief guided him through bending his arms, legs, wrists, and even his fingers. Along the way, he was constantly asking Will if he felt any pain and each time, Will replied with "no."

Finally, Hopper sat back, satisfied.

"Can you sit up?" the man asked him cautiously.

Will nodded and slowly sat up, taking in the rest of the occupants of the room.

There was the rest of the Party, of course, each member watching him anxiously.

There was Jonathan, who immediately came forward and replaced Hopper's position at Will's side.

Steve stood off to the side, rubbing his wrist and muttering to himself, glaring at Mike.

Robin and Nancy sat together at Hopper's dining table, the latter studying him intently as the former picked at her fingernails.

Finally, Eddie Munson of all people was sitting on the back of Hopper's couch. He gave a forced smile and jerked his head in acknowledgment when he caught Will looking at him.

"Hey, little Byers," the teen greeted him, giving him an awkward wave. He smirked when he saw Will's look of confusion. "Yeah, I'm here. Don't quite know why, but I'm here."

Dustin snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You feeling okay, Will?" Max asked in possibly the gentlest voice he'd ever heard her use.

He raised an eyebrow at her, before remembering she knew better than the rest what kind of things he might have seen.

His expression softened and he nodded, making her look relieved.

"What did you see?" Nancy interjected, her gaze focusing on him.

Cries of protest came from all corners of the room, Max one of the loudest. Mike shot his sister a deadly glare but she returned it, unrepentant.

"Max told us what she saw and it ended up giving us something useful," she explained, softening her tone as she turned to Will. "You don't have to tell us everything. But if there's anything that you think could help…?"

Mike looked like he still wanted to argue, but stopped when he saw Will's eyes widen.

He had just remembered that there were some things he could share.

"He's working with the Mind Flayer," Will told them all grimly. "Taking orders from him."

Everyone exchanged dark looks.

They had suspected, of course, but having it confirmed by Will was worlds apart from hearing Dustin speculate about it.

"So we have to deal with the Flayer and Vecna?" Jonathan asked, his face falling.

"No," Nancy corrected. "The Mind Flayer was locked in the Upside Down when El closed the gate. We should still assume that he's there."

"He won't be for long," Dustin muttered, shaking his head. "Think about it. At every site where there's been a murder, a gate has opened up. What if that's Vecna's plan? To release the Mind Flayer?"

"Shit," Hopper cursed, running a hand over his face. He was leaning up against the door that led into El's bedroom.

At the mental reminder, Will remembered another detail and turned his attention to the mage.

"El, he knows you," Will informed her.

El's eyebrows shot up questioningly, her head tilted in confusion.

"Well," Dustin pondered slowly. "That makes sense. If he's working with the Mind Flayer, then he probably knows about how-"

"No,” Will insisted, shaking his head rapidly. “I mean, he knows her. By name. And every time I said it, he would, like…fly into a rage.”

Everyone digested that information silently.

“Wait,” Max spoke up, looking puzzled. “‘Every time I said it’?” Did you guys…chat or something?”

“Something like that,” Will muttered, shrugging. “I didn’t realize who he was at first.”

This appeared to confuse Max even more, as well as everyone else present.

“You…you didn’t notice Vecna?” Lucas clarified and when Will nodded absently, he exchanged worried glances with Mike. “H-how?”

Will was confused by the question before he realized that he’d left out an important detail.

“Oh, he didn’t look the same!” Will explained, nodding at a surprised Max. “Not the way you described him. He looked normal. Posed as a doctor.”

“Posed as a doctor?” Dustin repeated, bewildered, but Max was focused on something else.

“Looked normal?” Max asked and when Will nodded, she went on. “What did he look like?”

“Um,” Will screwed his eyes shut, concentrating on recalling the image of Vecna he had seen in his vision. “Kind of long, dirty blonde hair. Blue eyes. He was tall. Wore a lab coat. Honestly, he looked like a doctor. Talked…weird.”

“Weird?” Robin asked, raising an eyebrow and looking amused. “What do you mean, he talked weird?”

“I mean,” Will said, pausing to try to figure out how to phrase his statement. “He…he never yelled. And he always talked in this weird, soothing voice. It sounded…musical. Like something you’d hear on AM radio.”

Hopper snorted, grinning slightly.

Looking around the room, Will saw the others wearing similar expressions.

Except for El.

Instead of looking amused at Will’s comment or thoughtful as she tried to puzzle over how these new clues could help them, she looked pale and was staring at the opposite wall with a faraway look, one that was slowly becoming more fearful.

“El,” Dustin called out, the first one to notice her state. His voice was sharp like a whip, hoping to jolt her out of what he assumed to be a flashback.

It was like she didn’t hear him.

Max reached out hesitantly to touch her shoulder, but before she could, the mage had brushed past her, had strode past them all, wrenching open the front door and darting outside.

Dustin stood, intending to follow, but Hopper held him back, shaking his head.

Slowly, as one, the group moved toward the living room window, Joyce reaching up to lift the curtain.

Will held back, unsure.

He had never liked it when people tried to butt in when he wanted to be alone.

But then he remembered the look on El’s face and thought better.

Will joined the group and his eyes peered through the window, immediately focusing on El.

She was standing, facing away from them, her head tilted down as though to hide her face.

Will frowned when he saw that she seemed to be shivering and he debated bringing her a coat.

But then he looked at the flannel she was wearing and was confused. He knew she had on a long-sleeve shirt under that and it wasn’t that cold.

Observing the movements closer, Will sucked in a breath when he realized she wasn’t shivering.

She was gasping for air.

She was having a panic attack.

Hopper seemed to realize this at that moment too and immediately stood up, rushing out the door.

Will turned his attention back to the window, where he could see Hopper kneeling in front of El, looking concerned. He was saying words to her that Will couldn’t hear.

Dustin’s hands were tapping in an irregular pattern against his legs, biting his lip as he watched the scene anxiously. Will knew he wanted to be out there, helping.

Spotting this, Steve left his place in the corner and came up behind the bard, wrapping his arm around Dustin’s shoulder and whispering something in the boy’s ear.

Whatever it was, it helped. Will watched Dustin relax and nod, shooting a grin at Steve, who returned it.

Outside, El seemed to be coming out of her episode. Hopper was smiling gently and seemed to be joking with her. Her shoulders were shaking again, this time with laughter.

Will exchanged smiles with Mike as they watched.

Hopper said something and El nodded vigorously, causing the man to chuckle. He clapped her on the shoulder before making his way back inside.

The door opened and Hopper stepped back inside. Holding the door open, he nodded at Dustin.

“You’re it,” he joked, playfully tagging Dustin as he raced outside.

The group watched Dustin walk up slowly behind the mage, plopping down next to her.

As they sat side by side, clearly exchanging words based on Dustin’s hand gestures and El’s continued laughter, Mike grew curious.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

Nancy snorted.

“Oh, so now suddenly you’re interested in having a real conversation with her?” she asked wryly, smirking.

Mike blushed, looking down.

Will reached out and tapped his hand, getting his attention so he could send him a reassuring smile.

“I bet they’re talking about Star Wars,” Will speculated, smiling when he saw Mike huff a laugh at the suggestion like he knew he would.

“I wouldn’t be shocked,” he muttered back, snickering. “According to Dustin, she’s become almost as starry-eyed with those movies as us.”

“God help us all,” Max stage-whispered from behind them, smushed together with Lucas on the couch.

Mike flipped her off, causing her to stick out her tongue at him.

“Hey,” Hopper grunted, not even lifting his head from the news magazine he was reading. “Be nice.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Mike whined indignantly.

Hopper lifted his head and stared at Mike doubtfully.

“Wheeler, don’t think I didn’t notice that damn stars pun,” Hopper replied, causing Mike to snap his mouth shut. “If I hear something that bad again, I will shove your face in the snow.”

The group burst out laughing as Mike pretended to look offended.

“What do you think they’re talking about, Lucas?” Mike asked, recovering enough to force the question out through chuckles.

“None of our business,” Lucas muttered, paging through an old edition of Discover Magazine that Will knew for a fact Hopper kept around just for occasions when the Party visited.

“That’s right!” Joyce interjected, agreeing with Lucas. She grinned at them. “They might be talking about romantic things.”

Will pulled a look of disgust and glanced at Jonathan, who looked squeamish himself.

“Mom, please stop talking,” Jonathan requested, bringing his hands together like he was praying. “Please.”

Joyce just smirked at the group, amused at her sons’ embarrassment.

“I think they’re talking about ice cream,” Eddie spoke up, appearing as though from thin air behind Will, causing his boyfriend and him to jump in surprise.

“Why?” Mike asked, expression quizzical.

“I don’t know,” Eddie said, shrugging. “I just wanna be part of the group.”

Will snorted and cracked a grin, something that was soon copied by Mike and Eddie.

“How about we just ask them?” Robin suggested, nodding her head toward the door, which Dustin and El were now traipsing through.

“What were you guys talking about?” Will inquired loudly, smirking when Dustin simply flipped him off, causing Mike to protest about being “discriminated against'' when he saw that Hopper hadn’t scolded him.

The merriment soon ebbed away as the room took in El.

She was smiling, no doubt a remnant from her conversation with Dustin, but her face was splotchy, eyes rimmed with red.

“So,” Robin finally broke the silence, drawing out the word. “I’m guessing you know who Will saw in his vision?”

The dry delivery caused some chuckles, but most people maintained their serious composure, looking at El intently, including Dustin. Evidently, she hadn’t filled him in during their talk.

“Yes,” she confirmed at last, looking up from studying the floorboards. “He…he was with me…in the Lab.”

The air became instantly heavier.

“Brenner called him ‘Peter,” El explained and Will saw Hopper flash a smile, like he always did when El used the man’s name instead of “Papa.” “He is One.”

The room collectively sucked in a breath.

“One,” Nancy murmured to herself and Will saw her eyes darting around the empty air, her journalistic instincts firing.

“So…he has the same powers as you?” Robin asked, paling when she saw El nod.

“But presumably stronger,” Nancy inferred. “If he was the first, that means he’s been training the longest. He’s the one most familiar with his abilities.”

“I beat him,” El said, her voice sounding small. “Before.”

Dustin smiled sympathetically, squeezing her hand.

“That’s not going to help us now,” Lucas gently reminded her, wincing and holding up his hands in appeasement when he saw the resultant glare his statement earned him from his girlfriend.

The room sat in weighty silence for a few seconds, before Mike got to his feet.

“Alright, so…j-just to clarify,” he stammered, trying to keep the fear out of his voice and failing. “There’s a serial killer with the same abilities as El who's in league with the Mind Flayer. He’s come after two of us already and seems to hold a grudge against El specifically. We only have some vague theories about what he wants and how he plans to get it. The one way that we know for a fact could stop him is…unavailable. That about sum things up?”

Max was glaring at Mike as he scanned the room, hoping someone would contradict him. He raised an eyebrow at her as if to ask, “am I wrong?”

Her glare vanished, replaced by the same panicked look they all had.

Everyone was terrified.

The adults were trying to put on brave faces, but Will could see the way Hopper’s knuckles had turned white from gripping the table so hard, as though worried he might drift away.

“So,” Lucas spoke up, trying to keep his voice steady. “Anyone have any ideas?”

For a few moments, no one took up the challenge.

Predictably, it was Dustin who finally did.

Rising slowly to his feet, the bard strode to the window, although he made no move to look out, which told Will he was thinking and wanted an opportunity to do so without the group studying his face.

Turning back to face them, Dustin scanned the room, focusing on and locking eyes with each Party member.

“Alright,” he spoke up, his voice shaking. He snapped his mouth shut and swallowed. He closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. When they opened, something new had ignited within them. A blazing, familiar determination. “New game.”

“You’ve always moved quietly.”

Will paused in lifting his brush to the canvas displayed in front of him. The aborted motion caused a droplet to fall.

Following its path with his eyes, Will watched as the small bead of liquid met the floor.

Though he knew better, his thoughts-thoughts that had driven him here in the first place-made him think the crimson paint bore a striking resemblance to something more sinister.

Quickly pulling himself free from his latest morbid insight, Will looked up from the floor and met his husband's curious gaze.

"Opposites attract," Will shot back, attempting to inject a teasing lilt into his voice, hoping to cover up his earlier reaction.

From the way Mike's lips compressed into a thin line, Will knew his efforts were in vain.

To Will's relief, the other man elected not to contradict him. Instead, his expression softened and he chuckled.

"What can I say?” Mike answered, sniffing and lacing his words with a false haughtiness. “My presence just fills up any room I walk into.”

“I agree,” Will replied wryly, nodding. “It’s stifling.”

Mike made a sound that sounded like a cross between a gasp and a choke.

“Well, I’m sorry, William,” Mike protested, aiming to sound offended but his amused demeanor was revealed by his only half-hidden grin. “I’m loud! I refuse to apologize for that and-”

“That’s true,” Will interjected to confirm, smirking when he saw how Mike had to purse his lips to maintain his composure. "You do refuse."

“My point is,” Mike pressed on, rushing as though fearing another interruption. A valid worry, as far as Will was concerned. “I’m dramatic!”

Will staggered backward, pretending to be shocked.

“No,” he breathed, examining his husband with a look of mock horror. “You? Dramatic? This can’t be! Why wasn’t I informed? I…I’m not sure I can look at you the same way! In fact, I believe this is grounds for a divorce!”

That did it. Will watched, smug, as Mike doubled over, his whole body shaking with laughter.

"Hey, I'm allowed to be dramatic, okay?" Mike claimed once he had gathered himself. "I'm a writer. A storyteller. It's my job."

"Well," Will answered dryly, "I can see you're working hard for a raise."

"I often do overtime," Mike agreed with a serious expression.

Mike suddenly stopped and gestured around the room, at the paintings and sketches Will had kept and hung along the walls. Will hadn't considered them well enough to sell (which Mike thought was bullshit, but his husband could be annoyingly adamant).

"You get a free pass too, you know," Mike reminded him. "You're a storyteller too. Just…you know, with…pictures instead of words."

Will snorted.

"Thank God," he murmured, smiling slightly. He had turned away from his current project and was examining an old sketch, feeling self-critical. The lines were shaky, not smooth enough. He was grateful no one outside their home had ever seen it. "I was worried I wouldn't get my chance in the spotlight."

"You're really good at it," Mike praised and now his eyes drifted back to the swirl of colors present on the newest canvas. "So, storyteller to storyteller, mind telling me what this is about?"

Will froze, sucking in a breath.

Damn.

He thought he'd steered Mike away from this.

He slowly let his breath out and turned to face the other man.

"Alright," Will conceded, amused. He spread his arms wide, palms out, in a pose of mock surrender. "That was a pretty decent trap."

Mike rolled his eyes fondly at Will's phrasing before grinning.

"Thank you," he acknowledged, inclining his head regally. "I've had lots of practice. Teenagers don't like it when they think you're putting them on the spot to talk about their feelings. Who knew?"

"So you trick them?" Will interpreted, shaking his head in mock disappointment. His eyes had left Mike to study the floor and his focus returned to the splotch of red.

"It's hardly a trick," Mike countered, smirking. "You're just mad you didn't see it."

"Well, I'm a little distracted," Will snapped out before he could stop himself. When he realized what he’d said, Will cursed internally.

He hadn't meant to say that.

Sure enough, when his eyes left the floor, darting up to check his husband's reaction, Will saw that Mike's head was tilted, his expression curious.

"Really?" Mike wondered, eyebrows raised. "Why?"

Will fought the urge to cuss out the love of his life.

He turned back around, resuming his apparent inspection of the framed sketch.

"It's nothing," Will asserted, his voice quiet. He didn't look back at Mike.

Which evidently struck a nerve.

"Oh, bullshit, Will!" Mike spat out, tone heated.

Will winced, clenching his eyes shut for a moment and biting down on his lip to keep in the immediate fiery rebuttal that was threatening to shoot out of his mouth without his permission.

Slowly, he turned again to face Mike.

Upon seeing the tight look on his husband's face, Mike felt his anger drain away. He smoothed out his expression, eyes softening.

"Hey,” Mike said softly, reaching out and grabbing one of Will’s hands. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

They both remained silent as Will fought to regain control of his emotions, his eyes having drifted to his feet. Mike helped him in the same way he always did: by being there. He felt the other man squeeze his hand-a grounding technique that they were both intimately familiar with. Will, now feeling like he could properly breathe again, glanced up at Mike and offered him a thankful smile.

Mike simply smiled back and nodded.

Will sighed, realizing at that moment how tired he was. Despite his restful sleep the night before, he felt like he often did on one of his “bad days” (as Mike called them). Sometimes, when he really got into creating a piece, he might not even come to bed, choosing to remain awake the whole night in his makeshift studio, obsessing over every little detail. Inevitably, he ended up consuming too much caffeine (which was a bad idea with his anxiety) and the sleep deprivation turned him into a total jerk.

Will’s shoulders slumped and he took weary steps over to the stool that stood off to the side of the room, plopping down on it roughly. Mike followed silently, eventually choosing to perch on the hope chest which contained the wrapping paper for Christmas presents.

When Will didn’t speak after a few moments of silence, Mike gently tried broaching the sensitive subject.

“Will, come on,” Mike urged him lightly. “I understand not wanting to talk about something, but don’t just tell me it's nothing.”

“But it-” Will cut in, only to be interrupted by his husband when it was clear what Will’s intentions were.

“It’s not nothing,” Mike said firmly. “I’m not stupid, Will. You think I don’t recognize that?”

He accompanied his question with a gesture towards the fresh half-formed painting. He did this without looking in its direction. As much as he loved all of Will’s works, this particular piece seemed to bleed with more red the longer that he looked at it.

It was unnerving.

Mike didn’t even really need to study it. He remembered the original sketch all too well.

“You’ve been thinking about him?” Mike postulated delicately.

As usual, there was no need to specify who they were discussing. There was only one entity they went out of their way to avoid referring to by name.

“Of course I am,” Will whispered, throat sounding raw. “Anniversary effect, remember?”

Mike winced in sympathy at the obvious pain in Will’s voice. He combed through his brain for something to say that might lighten the mood.

“Speaking of anniversaries,” Mike murmured, attempting a teasing tone.

Will’s mouth upcurved slightly at the reminder and he unconsciously glanced at his wedding band, bringing up his other hand to trace a finger across the familiar engraved words. He used this action as a mental anchor point and drew strength from the memory.

It helped and Will soon felt the tension in his neck easing, and felt the cold feeling that surfaced whenever he was mentioned abating.

Will looked up and saw that while he had been distracted, Mike had left his position on the hope chest and had stepped closer to the easel to examine the painting.

Will strode from the stool and stood beside Mike. The movement was sensed by the older man and he glanced at Will, looking strangely guilty.

“I’m so sorry, Will,” Mike confessed, voice tight, elaborating when he saw Will’s puzzled face. “I just…sometimes I wonder if we made the right decision, having an autumn wedding. There are just…so many bad memories for you and…and me. Celebrating an anniversary with this…fucking huge…shadow hanging over us, I…I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t the right choice.”

“Mike, we both decided on an autumn wedding,” Will reminded him. “Besides, I…you know I used to love this time of year. I still do, kind of. And…I’m still pissed that because of what he did to me, when he did it, I have to think about some of my worst memories during the time of the year when I used to feel…the happiest.”

Mike made to interrupt but Will held up a hand, preventing it.

“What I’m trying to say,” Will concluded, smiling at Mike, “is that marrying you gave me lots of good memories to associate with autumn too. And those memories sort of help me…keep the bad ones away. I guess.”

“Aw,” Mike responded, sounding playfully mocking and grinning from ear to ear. “I’m your Patronus.”

Will snorted and hid his grin behind his hand. His eyes widened when inspiration struck.

“That reminds me,” he muttered, walking quickly from the room, waving his hand at Mike, and yelling over his shoulder for the other man to stay put.

While Will busied himself with whatever it was he was doing in the kitchen, Mike’s eyes continued to roam over Will’s newest painting.

From what he could tell, it was a painted version of the original sketch Will had made of the Mind Flayer when he was thirteen, except this one also included the red storm clouds and lightning that he had told them he’d observed.

Mike knew Will had returned not by hearing his footsteps (he hadn’t been joking about Will moving quietly), but by the distinctive scent that accompanied one of humanity’s greatest inventions.

“Oh my God, thank you,” Mike exclaimed, taking the proffered mug of hot chocolate from Will. He took a sip and gave a blissful sigh. It was perfect. "I love you so much right now."

"Are you talking to me or the mug?" Will asked with raised eyebrows, shaking his head in amusement. He gestured for Mike to follow him into the living room.

“Both,” Mike claimed, taking another sip from his cup and sighing, trailing after Will, both men settling onto the couch in the other room.

“I think you have a problem,” Will observed, snickering.

“Well, sue me for enjoying this!” Mike shot back. “I don’t get to drink this a lot.”

“Why not?” Will questioned, looking bewildered. “You’re an adult who does most of the shopping.”

“Well, I-”

“Hey!”

Both men jumped (causing Mike to slightly spill on his sweater) and turned their attention to the doorway leading into the front entryway and stairwell, where they spotted Jonas.

Mike opened his mouth to greet their son but was spoken over by the stubborn seven-year-old.

“You can’t have that,” he asserted boldly, striding more into the room and pointing at the mug in Mike’s hand.

Mike glanced sideways at Will and met his husband’s eyes, tilting his head slightly, the expression on his face making his message clear:

Do you see what I mean?

“Oh?” Mike said, glancing back at Jonas and sitting up straighter like he was preparing for an argument. With a seven-year-old. “And why not?”

“That’s a sometimes drink!” Jonas explained, crossing his arms and glaring at his father. “You’re only allowed to drink it sometimes!”

“Is it?” Mike questioned, appearing unconcerned. His tone became playfully snobbish as he continued. “Well, this is ‘some time,” isn’t it? And since I’m the one buying the mix, I say hot chocolate is an “any damn time I want’ drink.”

Will lightly smacked Mike on the shoulder for cursing in front of Jonas, who giggled at the interaction.

“Hot chocolate is good for lots of things,” Mike attested. “It’s great for someone who's having a bad day, for one. Makes them feel a lot better.”

Jonas paused and Mike saw the look that said his son was cataloging this new information.

“Are you having a bad day?” Jonas asked, his tone gentle, looking anxious.

“Well,” Mike stammered out. “I mean, no, not really. But I don’t see why that means I can’t-”

His son’s headstrong expression had reappeared.

“Dad said!” Jonas insisted, interrupting, pointing at a surprised Will. “He said you shouldn’t drink it because it’s super sugary and bad for you!”

“Is that so?” Mike turned a pointed look on Will, who suddenly seemed absorbed in examining his fingernails. Mike smiled, but it was a dangerous smile, one that promised retribution. “Well, your father has always been very good at telling other people what they need. Especially me.”

Will bit his lip to keep from laughing at the pouty look on Mike’s face, before stiffening when the devious smile returned. Will was nervous. He didn’t know what Mike had planned, but it couldn’t be good. Maybe he could make amends?

“Jonas, what I meant was-” Will began, wanting to explain, but it was too late.

“Hey, Jojo, wanna hear a cool story?” Mike asked, smirking when he saw Will narrow his eyes at him. It didn’t matter. He was simply getting even. “Did Dad ever tell you about the time he drank five milkshakes in one night and ended up puking all over my kitchen table?”

“Mike!” Will shouted, scandalized, a look of betrayal on his face.

How dare he bring that up?!

They had sworn never to speak of it!

Mike just stood there with his arms crossed and a smug look on his face.

“Five milkshakes?!” Jonas squeaked, looking both fascinated and queasy. “Why?”

“It was a bet,” Will confessed, dropping his head into his hands and continuing to speak from between them. “There was money involved, and your Uncle Dustin-you know what? The details aren’t important. It was stupid and,” here, Will lifted his head to glare at an entertained Mike, “the fact that I did that does not negate my point about hot chocolate being sugary.”

Mike opened his mouth to protest, but Will went on.

“Besides,” Will explained, turning his attention back to Jonas. “I didn’t say you could never drink it. Just that you shouldn’t drink it all the time. Which you already mentioned when you called it a ‘sometimes drink.’ Sweet things are fine sometimes, as long as you don’t overdo it.”

“Speaking of which,” Mike said, looking at Jonas himself and grinning. “Are you excited for tonight?”

Jonas’ serious expression immediately vanished and was replaced with giddiness.

“Yeah,” he exclaimed, now bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I can’t wait!”

Then…something changed. A slightly annoyed look flashed across his face. It only lingered for a second, but it had undeniably made an appearance.

“I just wish we could go to the haunted house this year,” he mumbled, looking crestfallen.

Mike and Will exchanged glances, both wincing internally.

“Yeah, buddy,” Mike stammered uncomfortably, scratching the back of his head. “The thing is, that place wasn’t really meant for kids as young as you.”

Will fought the urge to snicker. Mike was putting it mildly. As it turned out, the recommended age had been thirteen and up. They hadn’t known that at the time and so had taken six-year-old Jonas to see it. It wasn’t something either considered a highlight of their time as parents, although Jonas seemed to enjoy himself, even screaming and giggling at the man who jumped out at them in a mask, clearly confusing the college-aged volunteer.

“I still liked it,” Jonas maintained. “It was fun.”

“Yeah, I know, buddy,” Mike replied, nodding. “But we also have to find things we all are going to enjoy.”

The irritated look returned to Jonas’ face.

“You mean her,” he muttered moodily, a scowl marring his features.

All traces of joviality immediately left both men’s faces and next to him, Mike felt Will stiffen. He knew his husband had taken a liking to the family’s newest addition, bonding over their mutual love of drawing. He knew he should say something before Will said something too cutting.

“Jonas,” Mike said warningly. “I understand that you’re upset, but do not blame Maia for this. It’s not her fault.”

“Yeah, it is!” Jonas countered stubbornly. “We can’t do anything fun because she’s a baby.”

“She’s not a baby,” Mike shot back, maintaining his serious, parental look. “And she’s your sister. Don’t you want her to feel comfortable with us?”

“Well,” Jonas paused, obviously struggling to come up with a defense for his position. “Well, she’s weird.”

“She’s not weird,” Will snapped back, memories of having that word and worse spat at him echoing in his ears. “You shouldn’t say that about someone else. It’s unkind.”

Jonas’ expression shifted to hurt, then shame, before settling on a hard look. Without saying anything else, the boy turned around and stormed out of the room.

“Jonas!” Mike called after him, sounding angry. “Hey! Do not walk away when we’re talking to you!”

Jonas paid them no mind, noisily ascending the stairs and disappearing from their view. The sound of his bedroom door slamming followed soon after.

Mike made to go after him, looking furious, but stopped when he felt Will’s hand on his arm.

“Let me handle this,” Will requested, moving his hand to squeeze Mike’s own. “You should calm down.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mike conceded, nodding slightly. He worked on steadying his breathing as Will cautiously made his way up the stairs.

He hadn’t said anything to Mike, but Will was quite nervous about how this would go. While Mike and he adored both children, there was no denying that Jonas and Mike had a special bond. They had clicked instantly and seemed to really understand each other, something that made Will envious at times.

Will knew that had something to do with why he had tried so hard to be there for Maia, and thus, why he had reacted so strongly to Jonas’ comments.

Reaching his son’s bedroom door, Will stopped and took several deep breaths before reaching up and knocking.

“Jonas?” Will called out, wincing when he heard how timid he sounded. He cleared his throat and continued. “I’m coming in, okay?”

He gave several seconds of opportunity for Jonas to deny him entry. When that denial didn’t come, Will turned the knob and stepped into the room.

He found Jonas sitting on the carpet, constructing a tower of wooden blocks. The boy looked up, face still wearing a hard look. If he was surprised at seeing Will instead of Mike, he didn’t show it.

Will came and stood in front of him, mentally debating how he should handle this. After a few seconds of thought, he bent down and sat down next to his son, careful not to get too near his tower.

Jonas was still watching Will, as though unsure what to make of him. He appeared, from the way he was hunching his shoulders and looking down, to be bracing himself for a lecture.

Will used a different tactic.

“May I have some blocks, please?”

Jonas raised a disbelieving eyebrow, before shrugging and using his hand to push a small pile of blocks toward Will.

“Thank you,” Will said graciously, beginning to erect a tower that he knew could never rival his son’s.

The two of them sat side by side for a few minutes, working on their separate creations. Jonas seemed determined not to look in Will’s direction, seemingly of the mind that if he ignored him, he might go away.

Unfortunately for him, Will could be just as mulish as his husband.

“Jonas,” he finally spoke, keeping his voice light. He followed his son’s example and continued working, not looking at him. “I understand that you were upset with us, but you do not get to just walk away like that.”

In his peripheral vision, Will saw Jonas tense up, tightening his grip on the block in his hand.

“If you were feeling upset,” Will went on, continuing to focus on his tower, not wanting to make Jonas feel like this was an interrogation. “Then you can ask to be excused and we can all agree to keep talking about this later. What you don’t do is storm away because you didn’t like what we were saying.”

“You were being mean,” Jonas stated, also choosing to keep his eyes on his tower.

Will paused to take a silent breath.

Don’t just sling accusations, he thought. Help him figure this out himself.

“How was I being mean?” Will questioned, keeping his voice calm while adding a second level to his tower.

“You sounded mad and said I was being ‘unkind,’ Jonas said, placing down a block more roughly than was necessary.

Will resisted the urge to retort with “you were.” Doing that would be childish and he was the parent, not another child.

“I see,” he said slowly, choosing his phrasing carefully. “The reason I sounded so upset with you was that…well, I was called ‘weird’ when I was a kid. Hearing you say that about your sister reminded me of that.”

Jonas paused, his hand hovering over the next block he needed. Will risked a quick peek sideways and noticed the guilty expression etched across his face.

“I’m sorry,” Jonas murmured and, although he still wouldn’t look at Will, his hands were still, his gaze on the floor instead of his tower.

“Thank you,” Will replied softly. He hesitated but then decided that, no, it had to be addressed. “As for me calling your words ‘unkind,’ well, what word would you use to describe what you were saying?”

“True,” Jonas retorted, finally looking up from the floor and at Will. His jaw was clenched, eyes shining with stubbornness.

Will spent a minute working on his tower, using the time to think through how he should word this so that Jonas realized his error.

“You said she was a ‘baby’ and that she was ‘weird,” Will said finally. “The first word isn’t true at all, Jonas. She’s five. That’s not a baby. Now, does that mean that sometimes, we as a family will have to make changes to make her feel comfortable and safe here? Yes, absolutely. That’s just something you do, Jonas. Things might be different, but being different isn’t the same as being bad. We are all still able to have fun together.”

Jonas remained silent, seemingly digesting this information.

“As for the ‘weird’ comment,” Will said mildly. “How do you know?”

Jonas glanced over, confused.

“How do I know?” he repeated.

“Yes,” Will confirmed. “How do you know that Maia is weird? Because as far as I can tell, you don’t really talk to her.”

Jonas’ face shifted into an embarrassed expression, but he remained silent.

“I just mean,” Will went on, continuing to press the point, “if you don’t talk to her, how do you know that she’s weird? You don’t know her.”

“I…talk to her,” Jonas mumbled, looking sheepish. His hands plucked at the carpet anxiously.

“Yeah?” Will challenged him, eyebrows at his hairline. “Tell me three things she likes to do.”

“She likes to draw,” Jonas muttered wryly.

Will simply put one finger up and looked expectantly at him, waiting.

Jonas’ face fell and he drew his legs up to his chest, hiding his face.

Will shifted his body until he mirrored his son’s pose.

“Jonas,” he said gently, watching him carefully. “Do you want to take a break?”

Jonas gave no response, verbal or otherwise.

Will bit his lip, wondering how to proceed. Had he pushed him a bit too far?

“Hey, nice tower!”

Will looked around and saw that a smiling Mike had stepped into the room, walking around and sitting down on Jonas’ other side.

“You’ve always been pretty good with these, huh?” Mike praised, indicating the blocks with his hand.

Unseen by Jonas, whose head was still buried between his knees, Will gave Mike a confused look. What exactly was his angle here?

Mike, seeing this, raised his eyebrows, maintaining a calm exterior while he offered Will a half smile. Seeing it, Will relaxed.

He recognized that expression. It had appeared often during their childhood.

It was his “trust me, I’ve got this handled” look, the one he’d crafted and perfected as the leader of their Party.

Will was still unsure of Mike’s aim but trusted that the paladin knew what he was doing.

“I like them,” Jonas spoke up, revealing his face. He glanced at Mike before picking up a block, resuming his project. “I like building.”

“Yes, I know,” Mike nodded, examining his son’s progress. “ You always have. You’re good at it too.”

Jonas blushed and swiftly looked down, trying to hide his smile.

“I don’t suppose you remember where we got these?” Mike wondered aloud.

Jonas must have assumed his father was speaking to Will and so remained silent. It was only when he saw Mike’s inquisitive look being aimed at him that he realized the question had been for him.

“Uh, no,” Jonas responded, screwing up his face as he tried to remember. “It was here when I got adopted.”

“Oh yes, that’s right,” Mike said quietly, in a tone that told Will that the question had been unnecessary and that he had known this the entire time. “Well, I’m glad we got you something you enjoy using. Did you play with these the first night you were here?”

“Uh, n-no,” Jonas answered, shifting nervously, his expression embarrassed. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” Mike said, pulling a surprised-looking face. “I figured since you like building stuff so much, you’d jump right in. Did you not like building stuff back then?”

“No, I did,” Jonas assured him, having once again abandoned constructing his tower to pluck at the carpet. “I just…um…I don’t know. I…I felt kinda…scared then. Confused.”

“Overwhelmed,” Mike surmised, and Jonas nodded in agreement. “That makes sense. You were in a new place. You probably were feeling…what? Lonely? Nervous?”

“Yeah,” Jonas nodded again, more firmly this time. “And I didn’t…I didn’t really know you and Dad then. You were new too.”

“Of course,” Mike commented, nodding himself. “I understand. So, you started playing with the blocks…when, exactly?”

“I…don’t remember,” Jonas admitted. “I guess after I felt better about being here.”

“Right,” Mike said understandingly. “Is that all it took, then? A bit of time?”

“Uh…no,” Jonas said, shaking his head. He gave Mike a small smile. “I talked to you and Dad more and…played with you and…stuff like that.”

“You got to know us?” Mike simplified and at Jonas’ confirming nod, clarified further. “And that helped you?”

“Yeah!” Jonas exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically and smiling wide.

“Good!” Mike said, grinning at his son’s passion. “I’m glad we helped you. Neither of us wants you to feel scared or confused or lonely.”

Jonas hummed, returning to his tower to add the final level.

“Do you think Maia ever feels like that?”

Jonas hesitated before picking up the last block and placing it down.

“I guess,” he mumbled, looking away from Mike, seemingly unsure of what to do with himself now that his project was complete. “Maybe.”

“I think she does,” Mike avowed seriously. “It would make sense, right?”

“Yeah,” Jonas whispered, and Will noticed the ashamed expression was back.

Mike noticed too.

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching out and placing a hand on Jonas’ back. “Jonas, please look at me.”

Jonas obliged after a few seconds and Mike took one of his hands.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Your father and I are not saying these things because we want to upset you. We’re telling you this because we want you and your sister to get along.” Here, Mike paused to squeeze Jonas’ hand reassuringly. “We know that you are a good, kind-hearted boy who is going through a very big change right now. We know things are different and you’re nervous about what might happen. It’s a big change for us too. But you are always going to have a place in our family, Jonas.”

Both men gave Jonas a moment to process what they were telling him, before Will continued.

“Jonas,” he asked, before hesitating. Did he want to know the answer to this question? Yes, he did. And so he went on and asked. “Do you want to get to know Maia?”

“Yeah,” Jonas piped up instantly and Will and Mike both relaxed when they heard the sincerity in their son’s voice.

“Okay, good,” Mike praised. “Next question: do you think she knows that?”

Jonas definitely looked uncomfortable now.

“I mean,” he was looking at the floor again. “I think so?”

“Really?” Mike pressed him. “You think so?”

Jonas nodded.

Will made to speak but Mike gestured for him to wait. Evidently, he had more to say on this topic.

“Do you think Maia knows you want to get to know her?” Mike asked, and when Jonas nodded again (although more slowly this time), Mike used the hand not holding Jonas’ to point diagonally to his right at the open bedroom door. “What about that?”

Mike was pointing to a homemade sign that had been created by Jonas and then taped on the outside of his room door. Scrawled across the paper in large, blocky letters of purple marker were words understood the world over:

KEEP OUT!

“That’s not just for her,” Jonas protested weakly. “It’s for you guys too.”

“Right,” Mike said, sounding unconvinced. “Remind me when you put that sign up again?”

Jonas opened his mouth before apparently thinking better and snapping it shut. He now looked closer to tears than he had the whole evening and Mike quickly went on before he broke down.

“We understand you want to have your own private space,” he explained. “And you should have one. Boundaries are important. But Jonas, think about the message you’re sending.”

“Between that sign and you not talking to her,” Will interjected. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Maia genuinely thinks you have no interest in getting to know her.”

“But I do!” Jonas practically shouted and now he looked panicked, and as much as Will didn’t like seeing his son so upset, part of him warmed at the thought that he was interested in learning more about his sister.

“Then why haven’t you tried to really talk to her?” Mike posited.

“Because I don’t know how to!” Jonas shouted and before either man could react, their son flung out his hand and swept it through his tower, sending it tumbling to the ground.

The noise, while muffled due to the floor being carpet, still startled the couple and for a second, they were frozen.

Will broke free first.

“Jonas,” he said cautiously, scooting closer to his son, who had resumed his earlier position and had his face buried in his knees. “You okay, bud?”

He received no response.

Mike, meanwhile, was staring at a fixed point on the far wall, lost in thought.

He should have seen this coming, should have seen it coming, and found a way to help sooner.

Since he had come to them a little over two years ago, Will and he had learned that Jonas could be extremely outgoing, a social butterfly even…if he knew the person he was talking to.

With strangers though, he was completely different. Shy. Reserved. Naturally suspicious. It made making friends difficult.

They had hoped that maybe once he started school, things might go easier for him, but that hadn’t happened.

As much as it broke Mike and Will’s hearts, they didn’t think Jonas had actually ever had a friend.

Will was having similar thoughts to his husband’s.

“Buddy,” he said gently, scooting slightly closer but maintaining a respectful distance. “Why didn’t you come to us for help about how to talk to Maia if you were unsure?”

Jonas scoffed, lifting his head to stare incredulously at his father.

“‘Cause that’s embarrassing,” he claimed. “I should know how but I…don’t. I don’t…I don’t know how. It’s so easy for everyone else. Why can’t it be easy for me?”

Will closed his eyes, embarrassed himself at the idea of his son seeing the pain reflected within them. Next to him, he heard Mike choke, like the other man have been punched in the gut. Opening his eyes, Will glanced over and felt his eyebrows go up.

Mike was staring wide-eyed at Jonas like he was seeing the boy for the first time. His eyes were glassy, a strange look adorning his face. It was the same expression Will saw whenever his husband was caught recollecting. Seeing Will's concerned look, the other man gave his head a quick shake, throwing off whatever memory had pulled him away.

Having subconsciously drawn back due to Jonas' outburst, Mike scooted closer and once again took one of the boy's hands.

“Jojo,” Mike said softly. “It’s not easy for everyone, okay?”

Jonas scoffed, apparently unconvinced.

“It’s true,” Mike insisted. “You know, before I started going to school and met Will, I didn’t really have friends either.”

“You didn’t?” Jonas replied, shifting his focus to Mike. He sounded surprised.

“Nope,” Mike confirmed. “I spent a lot of time by myself.”

“What about playing?” Jonas persisted. “You had someone to play with, right?”

“Yes,” Mike divulged, giving Jonas a slightly pointed look underlined with amusement. “I had Nancy. My sister.”

Jonas let out an over-dramatic groan, falling back onto the carpet so that he was staring up at the ceiling.

“I get it,” he grumbled, trying and failing to hide his smile.

Will sent Mike a smirk that was quickly reciprocated.

“Now,” Will began, face turning serious again. “As for how to do it, it’s a lot easier than it looks.”

“We just want you to be friendly to her,” Mike explained. “Neither of us are expecting you and her to be instant best friends, so start slow. Ask her about her day. If you see her struggling with something, help her out. You could even just hang out together in the same room.”

“We’re not asking for anything big,” Will surmised, nodding along with what Mike had said. “Just be kind.”

Jonas nodded, absorbing this newest information. Suddenly, he looked sheepish, hanging his head.

“I’m sorry about before,” he mumbled to his feet.

“We know,” Will said gently.

After a few seconds of silence, Mike clapped his hands together.

“Right!” he said, nodding slightly and getting to his head, Will doing the same. “We’re going to go make dinner. Make sure to come when we call you down. And wash your hands first, obviously.”

Will patted Jonas on the shoulder while Mike ruffled his hair, causing their son to loudly complain, the sounds of which followed the chuckling couple down the hall.

Will slowed at the end of the hallway, in front of Maia’s bedroom door, gesturing wordlessly for Mike to continue downstairs without him.

Taking a moment to gather himself, Will then knocked on the door.

“Maia, sweetheart,” he called out gently. “May I come in?”

After a few seconds of silence, Will realized his mistake and winced.

“Or,” he continued in a rush. “If you can’t speak, that’s fine. Just…just tap on the door. One tap for yes, two for no. Sound good? So, um, may I come in?”

When Will heard nothing, he frowned and wondered if he should just go in anyway when the door opened at last.

Maia stood in the doorframe, holding the doorknob with one hand and using the other to rub at her eyes. After completing that, she squinted at him curiously.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you sleeping?” she nodded, a gesture which Will returned. “Oh okay. Well, we’re going to be eating dinner soon before we leave to go trick or treating. Is mac and cheese with hotdogs okay?”

Maia nodded energetically, smiling, causing Will to chuckle.

“Yeah, I thought so,” he murmured. “Are you excited for tonight?”

She nodded again.

“Good,” Will responded, grinning. He hesitated before adding on softly. “Jonas is excited too.”

Maia simply nodded again, looking down.

Will sighed before kneeling down so that he could speak to his daughter without towering over her.

“Maia,” Will said carefully. “Has Jonas done anything to make you not like him? Has he said something or done something mean to you that I should know about?”

Her gaze snapped back up and she shook her head vigorously.

“Are you sure?” Will clarified and she nodded. “Okay. That’s good. So…you’re not spending time with him because…he doesn’t spend time with you?”

Maia paused briefly, as though wondering if she should respond, before slowly nodding.

“Okay,” Will said, shifting his knees so he was more comfortable. “I think I understand. Do you think he wants to spend time with you?”

She instantly shook her head.

Will grimaced, wondering how much he should reveal.

“He does,” he told her, settling on the words he’d say. “He just…doesn’t really know how.”

She frowned up at him, confused.

“Jonas is a very sweet boy,” Will explained. “He really is. But he doesn’t have a lot of practice making friends.”

She stared at him, eyes wide.

“The reason I’m telling you this,” Will said quietly, “is because Jonas is also very stubborn. If you want to get to know him, which I know you do, you might have to…go to him first.”

Maia chewed on her lip, obviously nervous.

“I get why that might be scary for you to do,” Will interpreted, spotting her expression. “But I promise you: Jonas will not be mean. And if he is, you come to Dad or me right away. Understand?”

Maia bit her lip and looked down. She looked unsure.

Will, guessing the reason, sighed.

“Maia,” he said gently. “Have we done or said anything to make you think that…that we like Jonas more than you?”

Maia stared at the floor for a few more seconds, in thought, before she looked up and shook her head.

“Good,” Will replied, relieved. “Maia, I know that Jonas has been here longer. But you are a part of our family too. So if you come to us and say Jonas is being mean, we will do something about it. Do you understand?”

Maia nodded, looking slightly reassured.

“Good,” Will said, smiling at her before returning to his feet. “Make sure to wash your hands before coming down when we call you, okay?”

She nodded again.

Will turned to leave and as he did so, he couldn’t help but notice how bare the walls were. The observation made him feel sad.

“You know, Maia,” Will spoke up, turning back to her. “If you ever want to decorate your room, you can always ask us for help. It’s your room. We want you to feel happy here.”

She looked down at the floor, but Will noticed she was smiling, as she usually did whenever either Mike or he reminded her of her place in their home, so he counted that as a success.

Waving goodbye, Will turned and made his way back into the hallway, descending the stairs and crossing through Mike’s office to get to the kitchen, where he found his husband dividing his attention between two saucepans, one filled with macaroni and cheese, the other with hotdogs being boiled in water.

Will stopped to lean over Mike’s shoulder and inspect both containers, making Mike huff.

“I appreciate the concern, Sir William,” he commented, sarcasm lacing his tone. “But I don’t think even I can mess up mac and cheese and hotdogs.”

“Mike, what have I told you about tempting the universe like that?” Will asked, smirking.

“Don’t do it?” Mike replied, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Exactly,” Will shot back, bopping his husband on the nose.

Mike sniffed, turning his nose up in a snobbish manner and turning away from Will to hide his grin.

“So I spoke to Maia,” Will reminded his husband while getting bowls and forks from the cabinet and drawer. “I think it’s a non-verbal day.”

“Got it,” Mike said seriously as he removed the boiled hotdogs from the saucepan and began to cut them up. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Will assured him. “She swears that Jonas hasn’t been mean to her, just that he’s avoided talking to her. So I…explained things a little bit.”

“Hopefully, that helps,” Mike murmured thoughtfully. He had begun stirring the macaroni but now stopped and sighed. “Honestly, we should’ve seen that coming. Of course Jonas would have trouble talking to her. It’s so obvious in retrospect.”

“Yeah, I feel like that too,” Will admitted, looking abashed. He shook his head, a determined expression replacing the previous. “But hey, at least we caught it early, right? Before it became something more serious?”

“True,” Mike conceded. “Now they can fix it. Get to know each other.”

Will nodded absently as he retrieved his own knife and took a few hotdogs from the pile to cut up.

The two men worked alongside each other for about a minute before Will suddenly spoke up.

“You know, I kind of lied before,” Will blurted out before he could stop himself. “I wasn’t thinking about him.

Mike paused, requiring a few seconds to discern the context of Will’s statement. When he did, he glanced over, curious.

“You mean the painting?” he clarified, puzzled. When Will nodded, he frowned before a small amused smile tugged at his lips. “You lied about a painting? Why? Who does that?”

“Well, I guess I wasn’t lying,” Will amended, thinking hard. “It’s just…I wasn’t really thinking about him. At least, not at first. I…I was actually thinking about…Creel.”

“Oh,” Mike let out, clearly surprised. “I mean…okay. Okay. Any…any particular reason or…?”

“I-” Will began, before stopping himself. Did he want Mike to know? Of course he did. They’d never hidden stuff like this from each other. They both got plenty of nightmares, after all. “I dreamed about him last night.”

Mike turned his body towards Will and reached out, squeezing the other man’s hand.

“Okay,” he responded cautiously. “Are you okay now?”

“Yeah,” Will promised, squeezing Mike’s hand back. “I’m good. Painting helped.”

“Was it just about Creel in general?” Mike inquired delicately, returning his attention to stirring the pasta. “Or…something specific?”

“It was, um,” Will replied eloquently, chewing his lip. He didn’t want to bring down the mood, not today. But then…it was years ago. “I was remembering when I was…under. What he showed me.”

Mike froze again, briefly, before resuming his movements. But Will noticed he seemed to be moving slowly, like he did when he was thinking something over.

“I see,” he said finally, eyebrows furrowed. He glanced sideways at Will and found the younger man watching him. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Will couldn’t help the smile that quirked on his lips.

It was the same thing Mike had told him right after it had happened, and had continued to tell him whenever the subject of Creel or Will’s “Vecnamare” (Dustin’s brainchild, not his) came up. He had never pressed Will for details over what had happened. No one in the Party had.

He knew vague details, of course. He’d given them all a few recollections. But it was all broad strokes.

“No, it’s okay,” Will assured him, taking and releasing a deep breath. “Um, well, you…you know that I was in a hospital room, right? And…I had gotten hurt, supposedly. I couldn’t remember how it happened. Jon-or, you know, who I thought was Jon, told me it was Troy and James, and then…you all started coming in to see me and just…being jerks. Dustin, Lucas, and Max all tried to make me feel like getting attacked had been my fault, that I was the reason people kept suffering. And then…you showed up and…we broke up. You were honestly really…mean. Cold.”

Mike winced, abandoning his food preparation once again, this time taking both of Will’s hands in his own.

“I’m so sorry,” he told Will, voice laced with remorse.

Will paused and looked blankly at Mike, blinking.

“Mike,” he said finally, amusement coloring his tone. “Did you just apologize for something a…fake version of you did in a vision designed to torment me?”

Mike blinked back.

“...Maybe?”

A few seconds later, both men were cracking up. Some of the tension that the conversation had brought dissipated.

“God,” Will said after catching his breath. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Guilty,” Mike admitted, still chuckling.

There was a peaceful silence that hung in the air for a few moments before Mike spoke up again.

“That must have been horrible,” Mike murmured, squeezing Will’s hands. “Thinking that all of us had…turned on you or something.”

Will nodded before a smile appeared on his face, clearly surprising Mike, who raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just that-” Will explained, seeing the paladin’s confusion. “I mean, at first, yeah. It was horrible. But-”

He cut off, looking for a way to explain.

“There were all these…inconsistencies,” Will finally went on. “Like…like my mom, she was smoking.”

Mike tilted his head, scrunching up his face in thought.

“Your mom did smoke though,” Mike recalled, sounding uncertain. “I saw her sometimes.”

“That was before Bob-” Will responded, cutting himself off before he could finish. “Before he…you know. He was always telling her she should quit, that it wasn’t healthy. And so after he…she did. She threw herself into finding, uh, replacement behaviors, I guess? She started knitting. I think it was her way to…honor him.”

“That’s nice,” Mike commented, smiling and squeezing Will’s hand again to pull him out of the dark thoughts that had no doubt crept up.

“Yeah,” Will whispered, smiling himself, before continuing. “There were other things too. Jonathan was…acting like an asshole. Reminded me of Lonnie.”

Mike winced but Will went on before he could say anything.

“Dustin was, like, lifeless,” Will recollected. “Lucas was…he was trying to convince me to get a girlfriend. Said I should try to ‘fit in’ more.”

“Jesus,” Mike muttered, disgusted. No wonder Will had begun to suspect something. That didn’t sound like Lucas at all. Maybe at one point in time, but by then? When they’d fought Creel? No way.

“Max was-” Will continued, wincing himself as he remembered the sight and words of the false version of the zoomer. “She was pissed. Really angry at me. Acted like I was selfish for not trying to fit in more. Said I was ‘tainting’ the reputation of everyone in the group. She kind of brought up Billy, how she’d already lost him and didn’t want to lose anyone else.”

“I…thought she hated Billy?” Mike asked, frowning.

“Exactly,” Will replied, snorting. “Another inconsistency. Although…I guess those kinds of feelings can be complicated.”

“True,” Mike responded, shrugging, returning to stirring the macaroni but still largely turned in Will’s direction. “And…me?”

Will grinned.

“That’s the thing,” Will explained, pointing at Mike. “Everyone else-Dustin, Lucas, Max, my mom even-their inconsistencies could kind of be explained away. My mom smoking? Well, she was stressed. Dustin not being his bubbly self? Well, I had just gotten, supposedly, attacked. Makes sense that he’s not all cheerful. Even Max acting like Billy was suddenly someone she missed having around. Like I said, grief is complicated. They were warning signs that something wasn’t right, but if I thought about it, I could come up with a reason for why they were acting that way.”

Here, Will paused to place a hand on Mike’s shoulder, squeezing it, causing his husband to look up from the stove.

“Until you showed up,” Will said, looking somewhat smug. “You were acting like a jerk, sure. But…I mean, I’ve seen you get mad before. And this wasn’t like that.”

“How so?” Mike asked, intrigued.

“When you get mad, you’re-” Will started, before pausing to think. “Your anger is like…hot.” He paused to send a halfhearted glare at Mike, who had raised his eyebrows and wiggled them suggestively. “Not like that. I mean, like, you yell. You throw things. You say mean things, but it’s usually like a ‘heat of the moment’ thing.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

By the look in Mike’s eyes, Will hadn’t been the only one to recall that particular memory just now.

Squeezing his shoulder again and sending his husband a reassuring smile-it was in the past, after all-he went on.

“But in the vision?” Will said, raising his eyebrows. “You were cold. You kept saying stuff that hurt. It was like being stabbed with ice. And then…you said something really mean. I…I don’t…I know it’s weird, since it wasn’t you, but I don’t think I want to tell you-”

“You don’t have to,” Mike quickly reminded him, waving a hand. “I don’t have to know the details. Just…I’m guessing it was something pretty bad?”

“It was something I knew you’d never say,” Will confirmed, nodding. “Ever. So, that’s what clued me in that it wasn’t you. And then…well, I brought up a story, and referenced a memory, well…technically it was a fake memory. Basically, I made up this fake story of something you did when we were younger, and when fake you didn’t contradict me, I knew for sure.”

“You…tricked Creel?” Mike clarified, a little stunned.

Will shrugged nonchalantly, like outsmarting sadistic killers was a daily exercise for him.

“Yeah, I guess,” he confirmed casually.

Mike couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing.

“Only you,” Mike wheezed out between giggling.

Will grinned back.

“Honestly, it-” Will spoke up, pausing. How could he explain this? “I don’t know. It was obvious looking back. Like, Creel knew some stuff about us. The Party, I mean. But like…he didn’t know us. Does that make sense?"

Mike mulled Will’s words over for a few seconds.

“So, like,” Mike mused, chewing his lip as he thought. “Someone who reads about backpacking in the mountains versus someone who actually does it?”

Will tilted his head, considering.

“Something like that,” he decided. “It’s like he’d read biographies on us. He had all the information but had no idea how to apply it.”

“Makes sense,” Mike remarked. “Especially given what we learned later.”

“Exactly,” Will said, nodding. “Creel, he…he understood pain. Anger. Guilt. Loss-”

“The Dark Side of the Force are those,” Mike interrupted, his Yoda impression making an appearance.

“The things that tear people apart,” Will went on, not even bothering to stop as he flicked Mike on the nose. “He didn’t understand what…I don’t know, binds people together, I guess.”

Mike snorted.

“You sure you don’t want me to make you something else?” he asked Will, smirking. “You seem cheesy enough already.”

Will whacked him playfully on the arm.

Mike was still chuckling and shaking his head as he made the last few stirs on the pasta, before finally deeming it ready.

“Done!” he crowed, looking proudly down at the food he had prepared. He hadn’t burned anything! “Call the younglings, please?”

Will smirked at Mike’s phrasing as he left the kitchen, trooping back through Mike’s office to reach the front entranceway and the bottom of the stairs.

“Jonas! Maia!” Will hollered. “Dinner’s ready! Remember to wash your hands!”

He waited and before long heard the sounds of two pairs of feet racing from their respective bedrooms. Will smiled to himself when he heard the faucet in the bathroom being run before he heard it switch off and the feet making their way downstairs.

Jonas came first, bounding down and shooting a grin at his father. Maia came more slowly, walking carefully and smiling more hesitantly.

“Dinner is waiting, young lord and lady,” Will announced pompously.

He led the way back through into the kitchen.

Mike had already brought everything to the table and was now rewashing his own hands. Jonas and Maia both took their seats next to each other while Will washed and soon, the four family members had sat down together.

Mike filled everyone’s bowls and soon they were all ready to dig in.

“Wait!” Mike called out before they could.

They all looked questioningly at each other as the man stood up from the table. Well, Jonas and Maia did. Will already knew what was happening and was shaking his head in defeat.

“Got it!” Mike shouted triumphantly. He returned to the table, grinning widely, holding a bottle of ketchup. “Can’t have mac and cheese without this!”

“You’re disgusting,” Will intoned, rolling his eyes fondly as his husband drenched his pasta with the condiment before passing it on to Jonas. “You both are.”

“Aw, come on, Will!” Mike protested, exchanging conspiratorial looks with his oldest. His tone indicated that he’d had this argument many times before. “It enhances the dish. Adds flavor.”

“It smothers the flavor,” Will shot back in the same tone. “It’s overpowering. You put that on, all you end up tasting is ketchup.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Mike challenged, smirking.

Will threw up his hands dramatically, giving up.

“We’ll convince you one of these days,” Mike promised. Suddenly, his face lit up and he turned his attention to the family’s youngest member. “Maia! Have you ever tried mac and cheese with ketchup?”

“No,” Will spoke up, pointing at his husband, who wore an eager expression. “You are not corrupting her.”

Mike snorted and rolled his eyes.

“So dramatic,” he muttered. Mike turned his attention back to Maia. “Would you like to try it?”

His daughter chewed her lip, unsure.

“You don’t have to,” Will quickly added, seeing her expression.

After a few seconds, Maia nodded her assent.

Before either man could pick up the ketchup bottle, Maia had done so, seemingly wanting to try utilizing it herself.

When she appeared to struggle with undoing the cap, Will reached out his hand to take the bottle.

However, before he could do so, Jonas had taken the bottle himself and poured a little onto his sister’s plate.

Will exchanged a smile with Mike, but both said nothing.

Maia picked up her fork and tried an experimental bite.

She promptly spat it out, looking revolted.

The other three occupants struggled to contain their laughter and Will shot Mike a smug look.

“Looks like she’s on my side,” he declared, reaching across the table and switching bowls with Maia.

Mike sniffed and pointedly took a bite of his food.

“Not everything is about sides, William,” Mike retorted, daring to sound disappointed with him. “I don’t know why you have to be so immature.”

Will barely managed to stop himself from choking in incredulity and when the resultant noise drew his kids’ attention, he blamed it on a piece of hotdog.

“You alright there, Will?” Mike asked, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“Yeah,” Will answered, kicking the other man under the table. “Just got a bit choked up.”

“Aw,” Mike said, pretending to look touched. “Is it because you’re with me?”

“Actually, yes,” Will confirmed, maintaining eye contact with Mike. “I told you. Your presence is stifling.”

Mike gave him a pouty look while Will smirked. He’d won their verbal sparring match.

For now.

“Did you remember to send our pictures to the group?” Will asked after a few bites.

“Yep,” Mike replied, nodding.

Looking up, Will spotted Maia’s confused look.

“Every year,” he described eagerly. “Some of our friends and us carve pumpkins and then decide who has the best-looking one.”

“Dads always lose,” Jonas informed his sister in a whisper.

It didn’t go unheard.

“That’s not true!” Mike countered, crossing his arms.

Jonas stuck out his tongue.

“How many years have you been doing it?” his son asked.

Mike looked at Will for help.

“About four,” Will supplied.

“And how many times have you lost?” Jonas went on.

Mike made to reply, but then snapped his mouth shut.

“About four,” Will responded, amused at Mike’s sulking. “I think I won one year.”

“Yeah, you did,” Mike said, sounding envious. “The year you did that pirate ship.”

“Would you like to see?” Will asked, smiling at Maia’s curious face and when she nodded, he dug out his phone and quickly navigated to the pictures, holding the device out for her to look at. “What do you think?”

Maia’s eyes studied the pictures, widening as they took in Mike’s carving of the Bat-signal, before moving to Will’s depiction of the Iron Man mask.

“We went with a superhero theme this year,” Will explained, taking the device, chuckling when she gave him and Mike a thumbs up.

“Speaking of which,” Mike announced, glancing at Jonas. “I think it’s time to get ready. Everyone finished?”

The answer was evidently “yes,” because Jonas and Maia had soon raced from the table.

“Make sure to bring your…bowls to the sink,” Will began loudly before finishing in a softer, amused tone when he realized his children had already disappeared.

“They seem excited,” Mike remarked dryly.

“I wonder why,” Will sent back sarcastically. He got up from the table and made his way back to the bottom of the staircase. He called up to the kids. “If you guys need help with your costumes, just bring them down, okay?”

Maia quickly made her way down the stairs, holding a plastic bag and looking shy.

“Need help, sweetheart?” Will asked, smiling when she nodded. “Okay, let’s take a look.”

He rummaged through the bag and laid out all the clothing articles needed for her Jessie costume.

Mike cleaned up the table as Will helped Maia into her costume. When she was dressed, finishing off by donning her red cowgirl hat, Will took a step back and grinned.

“Aw, sweetie, you look so cute!” he gushed. “Mike, get in here!”

Mike grumbled good-naturedly about being “ordered around,” but stopped complaining when he saw his daughter.

“Oh my God, you look adorable!” Mike proclaimed, grinning.

Will had already retrieved the camera.

“Okay, look at the camera,” Will requested, huffing when he saw Maia tug her hat down in front of her eyes. He softened his voice. “Maia, honey, just one picture? Please? You look very cute and we want to have something to remember it.”

She fixed her outfit and smiled indulgently.

Jonas came sprinting down. Or that is to say, Spider-Man came down and spoke with Jonas’ voice through the mask.

“Does it look good?” he asked anxiously.

“Yeah, bud, you look great,” Mike complimented.

“Okay, I need a picture of both of you,” Will asked, indicating the kids.

“Can I hang upside down?” Jonas pleaded.

Mike snorted and Will sighed.

“Sure,” the cleric allowed. “But take off your mask.”

Both men ignored Jonas muttering under his breath about ruining his secret identity while he removed his mask, crawled up on the couch, and soon hung upside down over the back of it. Maia sat on the cushion next to him, nervously smoothing her jeans.

Fearing for Jonas’ safety, Will took the picture quickly.

“The Party’s going to love that,” he told Mike, snickering at the picture.

“Alright, we all ready?” Mike called out authoritatively. Seeing Jonas and Maia’s nods and Will’s thumbs up, he brought his hands together in a clap. “Okay! Let’s get going!”

“Make sure to bring your gloves,” Will murmured to Mike as they began walking towards the door.

Mike waved a dismissive, bare hand.

“I don’t need them,” he boasted confidently.

Will raised an eyebrow, looking doubtful, but let it go.

“Everyone stay together,” Will instructed, turning lights off as he followed behind the group toward the door. “Only go to houses that have lights on. Be polite and say ‘trick or treat’ when they answer the door and ‘thank you’ after, or simply smile really big and look thankful if you’re not comfortable talking. Do not go inside anyone’s house, even if they say it's okay. And, most importantly, do not eat any candy until we get back home and your father and I have had a chance to look it over.”

Jonas looked back at him and though his mask was on, Will knew he was rolling his eyes.

“I’m serious, Jonas,” Will maintained, expression firm. “We’ve given you this speech before.”

“Yeah, but come on,” Jonas challenged him. “What, did someone put poison in the candy?”

“It’s possible,” Will replied adamantly, not looking away from his son.

“He’s right, Jonas,” Mike spoke up and if Will’s word wasn’t enough to take what was being said seriously, Mike’s tone certainly was. It was the voice of someone who would brook no argument. “You’re dressed as a superhero, which means you know that there are plenty of bad guys, right? Bad guys don’t just exist in comic books.”

Jonas nodded and turned back around.

“And also have fun,” Will added, wanting to ease some of the tension his warning had caused.

“Yeah!” Mike agreed, shooting Will a grin. “Have lots of fun! This is going to be great!”

“This is terrible.”

Will huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes as he looked over at an irritated-looking Mike.

“It’s really not that bad,” Will claimed, shaking his head in amusement.

“My legs are killing me,” Mike whined. “I knew we should have just taken the car.”

“Mike, no,” Will responded, tone uncompromising. “Absolutely not. We are not going to be one of those people.”

“I bet those people are warm and comfortable,” Mike muttered under his breath and Will hid his smile and pretended not to have heard him.

“Look, the houses are close together,” Will pointed out. “Most of them have lights on. Both kids have already gotten lots of candy. See?”

Mike glanced up at Jonas and Maia, who walked slightly ahead of them. Both buckets were nearly full.

“That was quick,” Mike noted with surprise and Will nodded.

“The Barlows are always generous,” the cleric reminded him. “Full-size bars.”

“Old retired people are the best,” Mike asserted, smirking and a snickering Will inclined his head, agreeing.

Looking ahead, Mike noticed that Jonas was drifting too far off the sidewalk and into the street.

“Jonas!” the paladin called out. “Get out of the damn street!”

Will sighed while trying to keep a straight face as he heard Jonas and Maia both giggling about their father’s slip-up.

“Mike,” he said pointedly. “I understand you’re irritated because you’re cold and you’re being a baby about it, but could you please try not to curse at our children?”

“I didn’t curse at the kids,” Mike defended, gesturing down to the ground beneath him. “I was talking about the street. It’s totally different.”

“That’s splitting hairs and you know it,” Will argued, trying to maintain a stern tone but failing.

Their playful squabble was interrupted by the sound of Mike and Will’s phones both pinging.

“Everyone sent their photos!” Will said excitedly, scrolling through his phone.

Mike, who had taken his hands out of his pockets briefly to retrieve his own phone, quickly reburied them.

“My hands are freezing!” he complained.

“I told you to bring gloves,” Will reminded him tauntingly.

One of Mike’s hands quickly reappeared so the other man could flip Will off.

“Here,” Will said, moving his hand so Mike could see his screen. Mike leaned over to look and promptly whistled.

“Wow, those look good,” Mike admitted, sounding jealous.

Max had chosen to carve an image of the face of the Other Mother from Coraline, even somehow incorporating real buttons for the eyes. It looked appropriately creepy.

Lucas had opted to carve an image of WALL-E which, while probably not the ranger’s best work, was recognizable as the iconic figure.

El had done an image of Jake Sully from Avatar, even including a blue light inside to enhance the skin color.

It took a moment for Will to realize what Dustin had carved and when he did, he grinned.

“The Empire State Building,” he explained to a puzzled-looking Mike. “Lit up in blue.”

Mike got it after a few seconds.

“Percy Jackson?” Mike exclaimed, his jaw dropping. “I didn’t know we could do books!”

Will couldn’t resist.

“Well, technically, there is a movie that-” he started.

“Will,” Mike cut him warningly, his voice simmering with barely repressed fury.

“Nevermind,” Will amended, trying not to snicker. “Must have been thinking of something else.”

“Must have,” Mike insisted, his face stormy before it softened as the man took a deep breath.

He really didn’t want to be in a bad mood for the rest of the night.

As he watched Jonas and Maia go from house to house, Mike felt his mood improving quickly. As they had instructed, the two kids stayed together and seemed to be getting along from what he could tell.

As the family walked toward the next house, they were just in time to see a group of laughing older kids emptying a candy bowl that had been left unattended.

Mike exchanged glances with Will, both men rolling their eyes.

“Real mature,” Will muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Apparently, Jonas thought the same.

“Why did they do that?!” he asked, aghast, stopping abruptly to stare after the group as they sprinted away. “It said to take one!”

“Maybe they're illiterate,” Mike speculated snidely, a weary sigh interwoven with the words. "Wouldn't be surprised."

Will repressed a snort and offered his own explanation.

“They decided to only think of themselves instead of other people,” Will offered up. “They were being unkind.”

“I wonder what it says about our society that so many people are willing to abandon a basic moral principle when they spot an unwatched bowl of candy,” Mike speculated wryly.

“Nothing good,” Will replied, shrugging. He grinned slightly as a thought occurred to him. “You know, they might’ve been some of your students.”

“Oh God, you’re right,” Mike groaned, chuckling. “If only I could give detention for stuff done outside of school.”

Will snickered but then stopped abruptly as he felt something cold hit his head.

What the hell?

He swiped at his head, but before he could pull his hand away, he felt the feeling again.

And again.

Will cursed when he realized what was happening.

“Mike, it’s starting to rain,” Will reported, voice sharp.

“Are you kidding me?” Mike whined, before cursing as he began to feel the droplets on his own head. “Of course. Why not?”

“We should head back,” Will advised.

“Wait,” Mike stalled. “Maybe it’s just a little sprinkling?”

As though to immediately prove the man wrong, the droplets became thicker and plentiful, quickly beginning to soak everyone.

Will sent Mike a pointed look, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you remember what I said about tempting the universe?” Will questioned him mockingly.

“Oh, so this is my fault?” Mike huffed, gesturing widely toward the now pitch-black sky. “You can’t blame everything on me, Will. Maybe it was those jerk older kids. Their theft released some burst of bad karma or something.”

Will made to retort but was cut off by Jonas.

“Dads, I’m wet!” his oldest complained.

“Yeah, no shit,” Mike muttered under his breath, clearing his throat when Will smacked him. He raised his voice and injected it with a dose of cheer. “Yeah, I know, buddy! You know what? You guys already have plenty of candy. Let’s all head back!”

“Jonas, mask off,” Will ordered, feeling relieved when his son complied without complaint.

Will was about to speak again, to tell them to stick together as they all but sprinted for home, when he caught Maia’s eye and saw she was shivering.

Pausing, Will bent down to look her in the eye.

“Are you cold?” he asked gently and when she hesitantly nodded, he paused to consider how to do this.

“Alright,” Will said softly, coming to a decision. “Listen, we are going to try to get you home as soon as we can. But we don’t want you slipping and falling on the pavement. So you need to be careful. Okay?”

Maia nodded her understanding.

“Dad and I will carry the candy buckets,” Will went on. “And you will stick close to Jonas. Do you understand?”

Maia nodded again.

“Good,” Will answered, taking her bucket while Jonas gave his to Mike. He turned to his son. “Jonas, don’t run too fast and stay close to her.”

Jonas nodded, looking determined.

With that, the two siblings took off, Mike and Will following close behind, the candy buckets being the only reason they weren’t sprinting themselves.

Somehow, they made it home without one of the kids slipping or Mike cursing the gods too much.

Frantically turning the key in the lock, Will opened the door and rushed the kids into the house.

“Alright, listen!” he commanded. “Both of you go up to your rooms and take off those wet clothes right away.”

Will started to go into the dining room, but then stopped as he realized something.

Turning back around, Will addressed Maia.

“Sweetheart?” he said gently. “Do you need help getting out of your clothes?”

She had barely nodded when Jonas spoke up.

“I got it, Dad,” he interjected, smiling reassuringly at Maia. He took her hand and began to lead her upstairs. “Come on.”

“Thank you!” Will called after him, relaxing and adding. “Both of you just go ahead and change right into your pajamas, okay?”

Hearing Jonas yell back in the affirmative, Will turned around, unzipping his coat and hanging it over the back of a chair to dry.

He found Mike in the kitchen, preparing hot chocolate.

Spotting his entrance, Mike spoke before Will could.

“Don’t even,” Mike defended, pointing at him for emphasis. “Not even you could have a problem with drinking some right now.”

“I was going to say that you should make some for the younglings too,” Will corrected.

“Already on it,” Mike replied, gesturing to the four mugs he had laid out.

“Great,” Will responded, moving to the sink to begin on the dirty dishes from dinner.

Before long, Mike had joined him and became his rinser and dryer and they worked together in content silence for a while.

“Jonas did good today,” Will commented as they were finishing.

“He did,” Mike acknowledged, smiling slightly. “I think he just needed a little bit of help.”

“And they seem to be getting along,” Will postulated. “Amazing what happens when you get to know someone.”

“Yeah,” Mike replied, snorting. He sighed as they both picked up their mugs of hot chocolate. “Did the candy get super soaked?”

“Actually, no,” Will revealed, sounding surprised himself. “I guess we kept it pretty protected.”

“Good,” Mike said, moving toward the dining room. “Should we check it now?”

“Might as well,” Will agreed, shrugging.

They both moved to the dining table, separating to opposite ends. Mike dumped out and began checking Jonas’ candy and Will did the same with Maia’s.

They thoroughly checked every piece for stains, tears in the packaging, manufacturers they’d never heard of, and more.

Before long, each piece had been checked and both men had the candy back in their respective buckets.

Mike instantly snagged a KitKat for himself, making Will snort.

“Starting early this year?” Will teased, rolling his eyes fondly. He grinned then, his voice mimicking Mike’s. “I wonder what it says about our society that a parent is so willing to steal from their child.”

“Hey, I earned this,” Mike justified. “I had to run home through the freezing rain!”

“We all had to run home through the freezing rain,” Will pointed out, snickering. “You’re not special.”

“Whatever,” Mike grumbled, waving a dismissive hand, unwrapping and consuming the mini KitKat in almost no time at all, hiding the wrapper in his pocket.

“You’re so lucky Jonas didn’t see that,” Will laughed, then frowned. “Speaking of which, where are they? It’s been a while.”

Mike paused and thought about it himself.

“Maybe they went straight to bed?” he suggested, though he didn’t really believe in that possibility.

Judging by the look on Will’s face, he didn’t either.

“Maybe they decided to take showers?’ Will speculated, but he didn’t hear the pipes running.

“I’ll go check on them,” Mike soothed his husband, getting up from the table and taking both kids’ mugs of hot chocolate with him.

He carefully moved up the stairs, quickly realizing the kids were definitely not asleep. Jonas’ voice could be heard coming from his room, the open door allowing it to flow unopposed to reach his ears.

Mike quickly made his way down the hall and crossed into his son’s room.

He found them both sitting on the ground, Jonas in his sky blue fleece sleepwear, while Maia wore her pastel yellow footie pajamas with white orchid floral patterns.

Jonas seemed to be in the middle of saying something excitedly, waving a piece of paper around, when Mike came upon the scene.

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” Mike greeted them cheerfully, handing over their drinks. “Made some for you both. What’s going on in here?”

Jonas’ face lit up.

“She made me a drawing!” he blurted out, holding up the paper in his hand, beaming.

Mike internally crowed.

“Did she?” he outwardly clarified, smiling wide. “Well, that was very sweet of her and you must be very special. I hope you said thank you.”

Maia looked down, blushing, while Jonas nodded vigorously.

“Yeah!” he assured his father. “It’s of the two of us!”

“That’s very nice,” Mike commented.

This was an interesting development. As far as Mike knew, Maia had never given away one of her drawings.

Jonas nodded again, looking over the sketch again.

“Do we have tape?” he asked suddenly. “I wanna hang it up.”

Mike quickly retrieved the roll of tape from the hallway closet, letting his grin show briefly, before returning to Jonas and helping him pull off a few pieces, which he stuck to the four corners of the page.

He stopped right before he pressed it against the wall.

“Wait!” Janas insisted. “You need to sign it!”

Maia tilted her head, looking confused.

“You know, write your name?” her brother clarified, taking a pencil from his desk. “Artists sign their stuff.”

“He’s right,” Will’s voice spoke up from the doorway, and turning, they saw the man himself leaning against the doorframe. He straightened when they all looked at him. “What’s going on in here? Having a party?”

“Maia gave me a drawing,” Jonas repeated to Will, looking pleased, as Maia signed the bottom corner in large, shaky penmanship.

“That’s very thoughtful of her,” Will noted, smiling when his comment elicited another embarrassed flush from his daughter.

Jonas took the drawing and stood up. He looked around for a moment, debating where to put it, before pressing it against the wall right above his desk, smoothing it on to ensure it stayed up.

He scrambled back to inspect it.

“It looks good,” he declared, beaming again.

“It does,” Will confirmed. “That was a very nice thing to do, Maia.”

“I’m glad you’re getting to know each other better,” Mike added sincerely.

A few moments of comfortable silence followed before Will proposed an idea.

“I was thinking,” he suggested. “Since it’s not too late, why don’t we all watch a movie? I’m sure we can find something Halloween-themed.”

The suggestion won unanimous approval and before they could move, Jonas and Maia ran from the room, taking their empty mugs with them, Jonas shouting that they were getting blankets.

Mike and Will exchanged amused glances.

“Well, okay then,” Mike proclaimed. “It’s movie night. Let’s go.”

He followed Will out of the room and shut the door behind him.

“You know, Mike,” Will started, turning around to comment again on how well the kids seemed to be getting along. The words died, getting caught in his throat as he looked behind him, past Mike. He smiled. “Oh.”

Confused, Mike himself spun around and looked at his son’s bedroom door.

It took only a second to spot the difference.

Just as before, there was the sign forbidding entry:

KEEP OUT!

But just underneath that, their son had squeezed on two additional words, in parentheses, in far neater handwriting than his sister:

(EXCEPT MAIA)

Will felt a lump in his throat and a wetness building behind his eyes that he quickly squashed.

Mike glanced back at him and he seemed to suffer from the same problem.

They shared watery smiles.

“You know, I can’t help but notice he’s still excluding us,” Mike joked, sniffing his nose as though feeling slighted.

Will flicked his forehead.

“Let’s go,” he said and they both descended the stairs, finding the kids in the living room, rifling through their candy buckets.

“Oh, great,” Will remarked, smirking. “Well, I suppose you can have some, but-”

“Did you take one of my KitKats?” Jonas interrupted, staring hard at Mike.

Neither man was prepared for this.

“Uh, n-no,” Mike lied, though not at all smoothly. “Of course not.”

Jonas’ expression grew more intense.

“I’m missing a KitKat,” he explained slowly.

“You counted them?” Will asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Jonas answered, not elaborating. He stood up and crossed his arms stubbornly. “And Dad is the only one who likes them, so I know it was him.”

“Or maybe you miscounted!” Mike deflected, mirroring his son’s pose. “I mean, you could have missed one.”

“I didn’t miss-”

“You have chocolate on your mouth.”

Father and son were startled out of their argument, heads swiveling around to look at the youngest family member, who had just spoken for the first time that day.

Her voice was wobbly and hoarse from disuse, but it was undeniably she who had spoken.

One thing Will noted was that it was the loudest she had spoken thus far. Usually, you had to be leaning in, practically right next to her mouth to hear her, but this statement had been projected out to the room.

And Will counted that as a success.

The room had been silent for so long that Maia had begun to look uncomfortable, as though unsure if she should have spoken. She looked down, hunching her shoulders.

Seeming to notice this, Jonas moved on.

“She’s right,” he affirmed, stepping closer and looking critically at Mike’s face. “You do have chocolate on your mouth.”

“Nice catch,” Will praised his daughter, sending her a thumbs up, which she acknowledged with a shaky smile.

Mike’s denials quickly turned to justifications of why he deserved candy, which Jonas completely rebuffed.

Mike abandoned the argument and began scrolling through the channels, trying to find a movie on cable while Jonas, heeding his peanut allergy, carefully moved anything that qualified into Maia’s bucket.

It didn’t take long before they stumbled across a movie they recognized as Halloweentown, which looked like it was just beginning.

“Everyone good with this?” Mike asked and received affirmatives from the rest of the group.

They all made for their places, Mike and Will sitting next to each other on the couch, Jonas on the armchair, and Maia…

There wasn’t a chair for Maia.

Before Will could scoot over and offer the middle of the couch to her, Jonas had already moved to make room on the armchair next to him, which, after a moment, she claimed.

Mike tossed Jonas a blanket and he quickly covered the two of them.

Will took a second to smile at the sight of the two kids snuggled up together before he took a blanket and covered himself, Mike doing the same with another.

As they all settled back to watch the movie, the night caught up with them. Between the sound of the rain that was still pelting against the roof, the hot chocolate they had consumed, and the familiar movie playing out in front of them, the whole family soon found themselves drifting off.

Will woke up sometime later. A significant amount of time, judging by the fact that the movie appeared to be over, the television now playing another program.

Stretching quietly so as not to wake anyone, Will found the remote and slightly lowered the volume.

He glanced sideways to his left and barely held in a snort.

Mike was slumped against the side of the couch, mouth slightly open. Evidently, he had gotten up and taken something else from one of the kids’ buckets, because he held an unwrapped Milky Way bar in his hand that he was still somehow holding onto in his sleep.

Will quickly located his phone and snapped a picture.

Max would kill to see this.

Looking around, Will’s eyes landed on the armchair and his heart melted.

Jonas and Maia were curled up together, the blanket covering both of them. Jonas was sprawled the length of the chair, and Maia’s head was resting on his chest.

They both appeared peaceful, serene.

Will snapped a picture of them too.

He then moved off the couch, silently, always silently, and tiptoed to the far window before turning back around.

Lining it up just right, Will snapped a picture of the three other members of the family.

Will smiled happily.

He then moved back toward the couch, already grinning at the thought of taking more pictures of Mike from different angles.

He’d act all betrayed and pout in the morning, especially when he found out Will had sent them to the Party’s group chat.

But that could hardly be blamed on him.

It wasn’t Will’s fault he moved quietly.