Chapter Text

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This can’t be real, Mike Wheeler thinks utterly frozen as he watches Will Byers’ body get pulled from the dark depths of the quarry lake, This has to be a mistake.

Will looks so small, surrounded by a crowd of police who haul him around like he’s a doll, unresponsive as they arrange his limbs, hands moving to check his pulse. Mike doesn’t want to see this, but his eyes are glued to Will, taking in every detail from the way his face looks bruised, purple lines streaking through it standing out against the brightness of his orange vest as they move him onto a stretcher.

But instead of moving Will into an ambulance and taking him to the hospital, the adults all whisper quietly over his body, shaking their heads.

No.

It’s freezing cold, the wind blowing through the trees and Mike himself as a tiny sliver of the moon is overtaken with the flashing emergency lights.

Eleven had promised that Will was alive and Mike believed her in a heartbeat. Even if she’d pointed at a picture of younger Will and said that he looked wrong, too young, and was something wrong with his hair. But what did she know?

Mike pulls away from the firetruck he’s hiding behind, kicking himself for trusting some random girl just because she had superpowers.

“Mike–” Eleven starts to say, reaching her hand out towards him.

Mike slaps it away in disgust, stepping away from her.

“Mike?! Mike what?” He exclaims, only able to think of how deeply she betrayed him by giving him false hope, “You were supposed to help us find him alive. You said he was alive! Why did you lie to us? What’s wrong with you? What is wrong with you?!”

Eleven whispers something but Mike can’t even hear her, overwhelmed by the anger coursing painfully through his veins.

“What?!” Mike spits out.

She stares at him, blank and unresponsive. That’s it, that’s the final straw for him. He stands his bike up from where he left it lying on the ground. He’s ready to leave, to go home and wake up to realize this entire week was just an awful nightmare. Mike doesn’t look back at the circle of adults murmuring about what to do with Will’s body. He can’t look back because then it’ll all be real, too real, and Will is– He’s–

Will can’t be– 

“Mike, c’mon don’t do this man…” Lucas tries to intervene, choking around the words as he steps towards Mike. Mike only gives him a brief glance, but he still sees the tears on Lucas’ cheeks, “Mike!”

“Mike… where are you going?” Dustin says, “Mike–” 

His friends keep calling his name, pleading with him, but Mike can barely hear them.  

Before he even fully realizes what’s happening, he’s pedaling away on autopilot as his feet pedal faster and faster, fleeing from the scene that Mike knows will be burned into him forever. Everything’s lost in a distant haze because the reality of the situation crashes into him all at once, like Mike’s been falling for days and he’s finally about to hit the ground. 

Will is–

Mike’s so fricking stupid. He can’t believe he’d trusted Eleven, who’d been fooling them from the start. What was some rando who escaped from a mental facility supposed to know anyways? Nothing. Nothing, that’s what. Mike’s face flushes from the shame of believing in her, for trusting her when he should have known better.

Will can’t be…

It’s starting to rain, just a little bit. Drizzling down and Mike’s thankful for it, the red stoplight he bikes under reflects off the puddles he splashes through, blinding him. At least he can pretend it’s just the rain rolling down his cheeks, flowing from his eyes and blocking his vision as he angrily scrubs at his face with one hand.

Will’s dead.

For a brief second, it’s almost like Mike can see Will on his bike next to him, looking at him with concern. Then he blinks and it turns into Will’s waterlogged body staring at him with dead empty eyes.

Mike startles, bike wavering for a second before he blinks again and Will’s gone.

Mike’s alone, of course Mike’s alone. Stupid, he’s so stupid. 

Will is dead.

It’s just… it’s too much. The thought’s too heavy and it hits him again, hard like a lance through his chest. 

It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.

Mike’s foot slips from his bike pedal, pants catching on the chain. Sliding out of his control across the waterslick surface of the road, Mike’s bike flies out from under him and he goes down hard on the pavement.

It hurts, but Mike is barely aware of it, just conscious enough to realize he’s tumbled onto some damp grass. The entire world is a hazy mess as Mike tries to think of something, anything other than Will’s dead body floating for days at the bottom of the quarry. But Will’s hazel eyes and soft smile as he hesitantly admits that he rolled a seven are the only thing Mike can think of. He would give anything in that moment to go back in time and beg Will to sleep over, would plead with his mom, scream, cry, something, anything to not be here, lying in the mud like it's his grave instead of Will’s.

What’s he going to do without Will?

The thought that his desk next to Mike’s at school is going to stay empty forever, or worse someone else is going to take it but they’ll never be him, just a constant reminder of the best friend he’s lost forever.

Will is never going to smile at Mike again when he rolls his eyes at something stupid someone said in class. Will is never going to doodle stars on the margins of Mike’s worksheets. Will is never going to look at Mike in awe as Mike describes harrowing dramatic battles. Will is never going to pull him into a victory hug, high on the adrenaline of rolling a 20 ever again.

Mike tries to focus on the pain from the fall, his body scrapped up and bruising, or the mud on the ground staining the new pants his mom bought him beyond repair as he squeezes his eyes shut to block everything out. But even in the darkness behind his eyes, it’s like he can’t stop seeing flashes of Will, all the things Will would do and all the things Will would say turning into a flood that washes Mike away, lost in a sea of memories.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there lying on the wet ground, hoping it’ll swallow him whole.

Eventually, he hears the sound of Lucas and Dustin’s bikes skirting up to the curb and slowly sits up, trying to pull the pieces of himself back together so his friends can’t see them.

“Mike?! Jesus… you’re bleeding.” Dustin starts digging into the pocket of his backpack, looking for something.

Mike realizes he must look like a mess but it’s hard to focus when his head is pounding from the force of his earlier fall. He tries to wipe his face with his jacket sleeve, wanting to hide just how hard he’s been crying. When the tan fabric comes away from his face stained red, Mike realizes the wound on the bottom of his chin from where Troy tripped him must have torn open.

“Why’d you guys follow me…?” Mike asks, voice hoarse from crying. He wipes his hands on his pants, wincing at the movement and only then realizes they're all torn up by the pavement, blood and grime mixing together into an ugly brown stain on his palms.

“We didn’t.” Lucas says simply, “Eleven forced us this way.”

They turn to look at Eleven, who wipes her nose on her sleeve, blood still dripping. She doesn’t look at any of them, pointedly ignoring Mike in favor of looking beyond them.

“There.” She says, pointing into the woods behind them.

“What?” Lucas asks as he crosses his arms, clearly done with the situation as well.

“Will.”

It’s only one word, but El says it as if it explains everything. Mike’s about to start screaming at her again for lying but before he can open his mouth, Eleven’s walking forward into the woods without them.

The three boys look at each other, a mutual are we really going to follow this maniac shared between them, before Dustin sighs.

“This is stupid! She– We just saw Will’s–” Lucas chokes on the word, cutting himself off with a wince, “You know.”

“… We should still check.” Dustin says slowly, “If she’s wrong again then well, at least we tried. We’ll regret it if we don’t.”

Mike’s about to scream at them for daring to trust her but– Mike suddenly notices the tear tracks on Dustin’s face, the way Lucas is shaking illuminated by the thin beams of their flashlights. They’re all upset, exhausted and teary-eyed. It’s not just him.

Mike, too tired to argue and stupid enough to still have a flicker of hope, realizes with an emerging horror that even if El is just some cruel liar, Mike is willing to follow the most microscopic clues in existence if there’s even the slightest chance that Will could still be alive.

“Okay.” Mike whispers, mind too blurry to come up with much else as he walks slowly ahead into the trees, Dustin and Lucas right behind him.

It’s dark, but Eleven’s not hard to find as she moves slowly through the forest, tripping over a root when she forgets to pick her feet up high enough.

She ignores them, even as their flashlights help light the way in front of her. None of them talk, feelings still raw, but Eleven’s determined and barely gives them a second glance as she moves forward.

Eleven stops once, closes her eyes for a moment and then turns, heading off towards a group of boulders that are bigger than they are.

Eleven points at the largest boulder and Lucas, frustrated, yells out, “Hey! Is anyone there? Will?!”

Nothing happens for a long moment, a freezing gust of air blowing through the trees making them all shiver. 

It’s dead quiet. 

Mike looks between El and the boulder, entire body starting to tense at the thought that she’s still yanking them around, lying to them just so that they won’t turn her over to the cops or whatever, when they all hear a twig snap.

Suddenly, a person peaks their head out from behind the boulder.

Mike’s heart races for a moment before plummeting down into his wet sneakers when the person steps out in front of them, looking nervous.

It’s a boy, but he’s older, a teenager maybe judging by the way he’s tall but shyly peering out at them. He’s in some ratty hospital gown, covered in dirt and he looks absolutely exhausted. His hair’s a wreck, tangled and at a weird length. The boy keeps shoving his hair out of his face only for it to almost immediately fall back in front of his eyes.

He’s way too old to be Will.

Eleven immediately moves to grab him and the boy smiles down at her.

“Hey there El.” The boy says softly with a deep voice that Mike’s never heard before, but it strikes a familiar chord in his mind, “You found me.”

El nods at him, speechless as tears start to stream down her face. Her thin fingers clutch onto the boy’s arm tightly, as if afraid that he’ll run off again.

The boy puts a hand on Eleven’s shoulder before turning to Mike, Dustin, and Lucas, squinting to see beyond the glare from their flashlights.

“You’re not Will.” Lucas blurts out, “Who are you?”

The boy’s mouth drops open in shock, looking between the three of them like he’s never seen people before.

“Oh my god.” The boy whispers, free hand going to cover his mouth, “No way. No way, no way, no way.”

“Who are you?” Mike demands, repeating Lucas’ question as he points his flashlight directly into the boy’s face like he’s seen on detective shows.

There’s something oddly familiar about him, the shape of his jaw strong but containing a whisper of familiarity, a ghost Mike can’t quite place as he squints at him in the dark. 

The boy looks astonished, disbelieving, but he’s not scared like Eleven had been that first night, flinching at every sound, his wide dark eyes darting between them all.

“This can’t be real.” He whispers, the soft doubtful words ringing out in the silence of the dark forest around them.

Mike turns to Lucas and Dustin who are both looking back at him, completely lost.

“Great, another freak.” Lucas mutters and crosses his arms. 

The boy seems to hear him anyway, Lucas’ words pulling the boy out of his stunned silence, and he winces as he covers his mouth with his hand, mumbling something that Mike can’t catch.

“Nah, he seems more… with it than Eleven.” Dustin comments thoughtfully and then his eyes light up like he’s thought of something.

“Uh… do you… know Eleven?” Dustin asks, words slow and careful like he's asking Mike's younger sister a question.

“Of course I know Eleven,” The boy states like it’s obvious, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“... How exactly?” Lucas asks, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Uh well… wait, how old are you guys?” The boy asks awkwardly instead, searching over them while he looks for an answer.

“Nope, nuh-uh. We don’t tell total strangers our personal details.” Lucas declares, “You first.”

The boy sighs, shuffling around in an attempt to keep warm in his thin hospital gown. He’s shivering, but barely seems to notice as the cold November whistles through the thin branches, deep in thought.

Mike waits, squinting his eyes against the darkness to see the boy more clearly. He’s not even wearing shoes, leaves and dirt smeared on his legs. He must have been in the woods all day, at least.

“I’m uh, it’s… Hi?” The boy squeaks out, voice breaking as he grimaces at his own words, head turning away from them with a frustrated groan.

Lucas’s flashlight jerks where he’s holding it and then Mike sees two familiar moles at the boy’s throat, a few distinctive marks. 

That could only mean–

“… Will?” Mike asks, his voice soft, disbelieving.

Dustin and Lucas jump, their heads snapping around to look at Mike

“No freaking way.” Dustin breathes out, face wrinkled in surprised contemplation while Lucas curses quietly under his breath.

Mike’s eyes are glued to the boy standing in front of him, searching over every inch of him to find any hint of Will, impossibly older and standing there like a confused deer trapped in the beams of their old flashlights.

“Will.” Eleven says, confirming his suspicions.

There’s a pause where Maybe-Will looks like he’s thinking something over before he sighs.

“Hey, Mike.” Maybe-Will says, giving him a little wave, “Dustin. Lucas.”

Mike gapes at the older boy in front of him, this Maybe-Will Byers. He’s tall, super tall and his face is older, with a defined jaw that makes Will look like… like a movie star almost. Definitely not Mike’s best friend that he’s known since kindergarten. It’s strange to see him without the characteristic Byers bowlcut, hair grown out and obscuring his face a little, but wow.

Wow. 

But… How is this possible? Mike wonders, just staring, eyes squinting like Maybe-Will is one of his campaigns that he’s trying to put together in his head, the pieces all there but not quite clicking.

“That’s– No way, Mike, this guy’s gotta be like, 18.” Lucas states, sure of himself, but he’s also blinking at Maybe-Will in confusion, “He does look… a lot like Jonathan though.”

“Yeah, if Jonathan grew his hair out and didn’t look like a sleepy zombie.” Dustin adds.

“Jonathan’s not that bad...” Maybe-Will weakly protests, adding another point in Mike’s head to the ‘probably Will’ column for defending Jonathan even though Dustin’s objectively right. 

“Guys, he’s got the same marks on his face that Will has,” Mike explains tiredly, “In the exact same locations. And his eyes are the same like… dark brown color.”

“How’re we supposed to notice all that when it’s so dark out?” Lucas scoffs, crossing his arms and Mike’s barely held temper snaps.

“Shut up, it’s obvious.” Mike states loudly, temper sparking, “It’s not my fault you can’t see well.” 

Lucas gives him a mean look. Before he can say anything, Dustin interrupts them, stepping in between the two of them and holding his hands up.

“Guys, it doesn’t matter. We still don’t know if he’s actually Will.” Dustin says, gesturing in Maybe-Will’s general direction.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Lucas turns to ask Maybe-Will, who’s been anxiously watching them argue back and forth without inputting anything. 

Mike adds another tally to the ‘probably Will’ column because that’s classic Will Byers behavior.

“I– honestly I’m not sure this is real? Or what I can say without breaking reality or whatever,” Maybe-Will comments slowly.

“Breaking reality?” Dustin repeats, bouncing on his feet and a bit too excited about the concept in Mike’s opinion, “I knew it! I knew there was something weird about all this shit!”

“How’d you get so old?” Mike asks Maybe-Will, confused. The other boys nod along with him.

“Will’s a kid like us. You’ve gotta be an adult.” Lucas states firmly.

“I’m sixteen, actually. Though wait… how old are you guys?” Maybe-Will asks.

“We’re twelve, duh.” Dustin says, “If you were really Will, you’d know that.”

“I don’t even know what year it is, man. I thought maybe it was just El turning into a little kid again or something but I guess… whoa.” Maybe-Will says, still taking it in. His eyes light up a bit, just like Will’s when something cool has happened, but it’s tempered by concern, fear almost.

“Okay, so this is going to sound crazy,” Maybe-Will cautions, slow and uncertain, “But I think I must have… time traveled? Somehow? But that’s–”

“What?!” Dustin yells, interrupting Maybe-Will who stumbles back at the sudden loud noise.

“For real?” Mike asks, immediately doubtful as the wheels in his brain start turning. But if Maybe-Will says he’s sixteen and a time traveler… Mike wonders what that means for the twelve-year-old Will.

“I think so? It’s all really confusing, honestly.” Maybe-Will says, hesitant.

“Yes,” El states strongly. Of course she’s in agreement about everything being confusing, Mike’s had to explain literally everything in the entire world to her over the past few days including friendship, privacy, and how to eat food.

“Prove it.” Lucas says, causing everyone to turn and look at him, “If you’re really Will Byers from the future, then you can prove it, right?”

“That makes sense. I wouldn’t believe me either.” Will pulls his arm from Eleven’s grasp, where she huffs a bit but just moves closer to him as he leans back against the boulder. 

“Okay so… My mom’s Joyce Byers, Jonathan’s my older brother–”

“C’mon, everyone in town knows that stuff. You gotta give us something better.” Lucas interrupts, eyeing Maybe-Will like the exhausted looking boy is going to attack them before turning to Mike and Dustin, “You guys know what we just saw! There’s no way this is Will.”

Dustin looks a bit sick at the reminder, and Mike sees a flash of Will’s pale body unmoving, causing Mike to flinch as well. He’s still smeared with mud from when he fell off his bike from the shock of it all and he tries to sneakily wipe the worst of it off his face with his formerly tan jacket sleeve. But at least it’s not raining anymore.

“But– but what if it’s really…” Dustin says, his voice trailing off, uncertain.

“No, this– this is insane!” Lucas yells, gesturing at Will, “We just saw them pull Will’s dead body out of the water! Like, fully dead!”

Maybe-Will shoots up from where he’s leaning against the boulder with a jolt.

“Shit,” Maybe-Will blurts out, “Wait, oh shit. Oh shit, what’s the date?”

“It’s November 9th.” Mike gives him, thinking about how weird it is to hear any potential Will cursing when Mike’s friend usually gets too embarrassed to say anything worse than ‘crap’.

Mike’s also wondering if Maybe-Will recognizes it. If he remembers November 6th as vividly as Mike knows he will for the rest of his life.

“1983.” Dustin adds helpfully, “‘Cause if you’re really a time traveler, then you probably don’t know what year it is.”

Maybe-Will’s eyes go wide, horrified.

“I-I hadn’t… realized… Wait, that’s why you’re out here with Eleven, isn’t it? I went missing on November 6th.” Maybe-Will says, adding another point to the probably Will column, “Well, twelve-year-old me did.”

“Everyone in Hawkins knows that too!” Lucas says, his voice shaking and he’s furious to an extent Mike hadn’t realized before, “You– you can’t jerk us around like this! Will’s–” Lucas cuts himself off, his fists clenched like he’s about to punch Maybe-Will or start crying.

“Lucas.” Maybe-Will says softly, concerned.

“Is Will alive? Our Will?” Mike asks, not caring when his voice cracks at the end. Maybe-Will looks at Mike, like he’s carefully considering what to say.

“He’s–” Maybe-Will starts.

“Wait, tell us something specific first. To prove your identity,” Dustin interrupts, “Like, what happened the last night we saw you?”

“Oh right!” Maybe-Will says, “The night I disappeared; we had a D&D campaign. We fought a Demogorgon, but it got me because I–”

“–rolled a seven.’” Mike finishes saying along with Will, eyes blown wide in realization.

“We’d been working on that campaign all month but I blew it, huh? We never went back to finish it, after everything, either.” Will sighs, his eyes crinkling in that same self-frustrated way Will’s do when he messes up a math problem in class and for some reason, that’s when it clicks fully. 

Mike sees the image of his Will grown up into this older Will, his frustrated face a more dignified adult version of Will’s annoyed pout that his face scrunches up into when he makes a mistake.

“Oh my god.” Dustin exhales, shocked speechless for once.

Lucas is also stunned into complete silence beside him, flashlight slipping from his grip to fall with a clatter against forest floor.

Mike is busy quickly putting the pieces together to come to a far more important conclusion. It’s crazy, absolutely insane, talking about time travel like it could really happen. But far more importantly, Mike suddenly realizes that if this is Will…

“If you’re Will from the future… then our Will has to be alive, right? Because he grows up to be you?” Mike exclaims, voice rising at the end in an obvious question as he turns to the other boys for confirmation. 

Lucas and Dustin both look surprised, then desperately back to Will.

“Yeah, I’m… or well, twelve-year-old me, should still be alive.” Will says. 

Suddenly Mike can breathe again, his whole chest relaxing from where he’d been tense and crying earlier but before Will can say anything else, Dustin starts yelling.

“Will’s alive!” Dustin’s face breaks out into a wide grin, jumping to throw an arm around Lucas and Mike as he pulls them into an excited hug. They’re holding each other and jumping around in a circle like they’ve beaten one of Mike’s most difficult campaigns, ecstatic, even though all of their faces are still a bit wet from crying.

The world snaps back into alignment, the thunderstorm of the past hour finally calming down within Mike as he blinks back the tears that threaten to start falling again. His friends shelter him for a moment, grounding Mike through their frantic excitement.

When they let go of each other, Mike sees Will watching them, his serious face lighting up with a hint of amusement that stretches into a full smile when Mike’s eyes meet his. Eleven just watches them, eyes darting between them all back-and-forth.

“I never realized you guys were so worried,” Older Will says, “Yeah, I’m– Will’s alive. The twelve-year-old one, at least. I’m pretty sure.” Will scratches his head for a moment, making Mike wonder what exactly happened to Will’s hair, why it’s grown out into such a mess, “Wow, that’s confusing.”

“But more importantly, I– the younger me, needs help. And so do we.” Will states with a seriousness Mike’s never seen from him before, gesturing between himself and Eleven.

“Help? What kind of help?” Mike asks worriedly.

“It’s… a bit of a long story. I’ll tell you everything but… It’s not exactly safe for either of us to be out here right now, so…” Will trails off, El moving to hide behind Will’s legs when she hears him say ‘not safe’.

“You can crash in my basement!” Mike says immediately, “I’ve kept Eleven down there for two days now and my parents haven’t noticed anything ‘cause Mom never goes down there during the week.”

“Thanks, Mike.” Will says with a warm smile, front teeth peeking out from behind his lips in a classic Will Byers’ grin that makes Mike’s cheeks heat up a little, and for the first time he’s glad it’s so dark outside, “Lead the way.”

✕

They head back through the woods, the mood completely changed from earlier. Mike keeps stealing glances at the older Will and he knows the others can’t resist either, unwilling to look away from this strange tall version of their best friend, all of them caught in the same quiet awe.

El stays glued to Will’s side and doesn’t spare any of them a second glance, which is ridiculous but Mike doesn’t care. He ignores her right back even though it’s difficult because she’s still clinging to Will’s side like she’s afraid that he’ll disappear if she lets go for a second. Mike understands the feeling completely, but at least he can keep his hands to himself like a grown-up.

Eventually, they come to where Mike’s bike lies in a heap on the side of the road. Will looks it over and then turns back to Mike with concern, noticing the scrap on his face for the first time. The others grab their bikes, but Will stops Mike with a hand on his shoulder, turning Mike around to face him under the flickering streetlight.

“Mike…” Will states worriedly, “Why are you bleeding?”

“I-I just fell off my bike, it’s not a big deal.” Mike mumbles, embarrassed at the thought of this older cooler Will knowing he’d been bullied in Will’s absence. Mike picks his bike up, trying to straighten out the tire that had twisted in an awkward direction underneath him to avoid meeting Will’s gaze.

“Troy tripped him today at recess.” Dustin interrupts, the traitor. Mike’s head shoots up and he glares at Dustin, but Dustin just gives him a look that screams you’re the one who made that rule about friends never lying.

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” Mike stresses, glaring at Dustin, “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Will looks at him for a moment, as if he is taking in the state of Mike’s scrapped up chin and muddy clothes. Mike has to look away, overwhelmed with the attention.

“Man, I haven’t thought about Troy in ages.” Will says, thankfully letting the matter drop.

“Really? Did he die or something?” Lucas asks bluntly.

“Uh no he– his mom put him in private school after–” Will looks at them, “Oh man, I think that’s a… I don’t know, a spoiler? A fact about the future I’m not supposed to share? How’d it work in Back to the Future again?” 

“What’s that? A book?” Dustin asks, then grows excited, “A future book?”

“No, it’s a movie that came out like two years… ago… Wait.” Will says, stopping in his tracks to look at them with incredulous eyes when he realizes, “Oh my god, never mind, it’s not out yet.”

Dustin practically bounces as he walks, curly hair bobbing up and down as he repeats the title under his breath over and over again so as not to forget it.

“A future movie…” Lucas says, not quite as excited as Dustin but still clearly pleased.

“Whoa, how can we use this incredible opportunity… A real life time traveler!” Dustin exclaims, twisting his hands in his shirt. Mike knows what it means: Dustin is scheming, plotting how to take advantage of their newfound time traveling best friend from the future.

“Guys, if this Will’s a time traveler, then that means he’s on a mission.” Mike says as he tries to impart the seriousness of the situation, but it’s hard when yeah, okay, Will becoming a time traveler is the coolest thing that Mike has ever seen in his entire life, “So we gotta help him first. Fun future facts can come later.” He states with all the authority he can muster, hands on his hips.

Will’s eyebrows raise in clear amusement as he watches Mike, “I agree, but I’m uh, not sure what my mission is here, exactly.”

“To save Will, duh. My– our Will.” Mike says firmly, “That’s gotta be your mission.”

Will tries to hide another smile behind his hand in a way that makes Mike second guess himself, wondering what Will thinks of him, “That’s the most pressing problem, huh? I guess if we can help my younger self earlier then…” Will trails off almost ominously.

“What? What’ll happen?” Dustin asks eagerly, bike swerving from where Dustin’s holding it as he walks beside Mike.

“I don’t know,” Will hedges, “Aren’t there rules about not changing the past?”

“None that have been proven!” Lucas states with confidence, “Pretty sure you’re the first recorded time traveler ever.”

“Unless the government is covering it up…” Dustin murmurs, “The government could totally invent a time machine and never tell anyone about it.”

Will flinches, his face barely visible in the shadows of the trees. The others don’t see it, but Mike catches it.

“Nah, they would have used it to stop the Russians by now,” Lucas continues oblivious to Will’s reaction, “No way they have a time machine.”

“But Lucas, if they used a time machine then how would we know ? New timeline, bam.” Dustin argues back, retreading a conversation that Mike’s heard before. He’d done a campaign involving time travel once when they were ten and it… hadn’t gone well. Time travel was messy, confusing, and Mike refused to let the Party attempt it ever again.

“Then they could have come up with a better world than this.” Lucas responds with a sweep of his hand towards the old ugly houses they could see through the trees, “Like we’d have hoverboards by now.”

Dustin and Lucas turn to Will in unison as if on cue, question obvious in their wide eyes.

“No, we don’t have hoverboards in the future.” Will says plainly, “It’s really not that different.”

Dustin sighs, muttering something about writing it down while Lucas looks quietly disappointed.

“Guys, can we please focus?” Mike interrupts, annoyed. They’ve started slowly making their way towards Mike’s house almost on instinct, pushing their bikes alongside them through the dead autumn leaves in the pockets of dark forest that hide behind the suburban neighborhoods as they talk.

“How can we save Will?” Mike asks, turning his head towards the older Will.

“Now obviously, I don’t… know how you guys saved me exactly because I wasn’t there but… I have some ideas.” Will says, “And I think we can get him out.”

“Out of what?” Mike asks, completely lost.

“The Upside Down.” Will says, 

The eerie echo of the night before in Mike’s basement makes him shiver, remembering El’s short words and intense stare as she swept all of their D&D tokens to the floor and flipped the board over, placing Will the Wise on top of it. The Upside Down felt like some phrase Mike would come up with when he couldn’t think of a better word, a dumb joke.

But Will’s hazel eyes are solemn, dead serious, and it hits Mike so strongly he stumbles for a second when he instantly understands that whatever’s going on is much worse than his best friend going missing in the woods for a week.

Not for the first time, Mike desperately hopes that Will can come back from this alive, shoving all his worries down deep into the back of his mind so he can step forward and continue searching.

✕

Sneaking Other-Will into Mike’s basement is a piece of cake, none of their neighbors any the wiser at this time of night with the moon blocked by hazy clouds, obscuring them from view as they silently push their bikes from the treeline. Lucas peels off, heading to his house to check in with his parents first, promising to bring snacks and a hat that Will asks for.

Eleven makes a beeline for the hiding place Mike set up a few nights ago, bundling herself up in the old musty blankets Mike left out for her without saying a word to the rest of them, but Will heads straight to the bathroom without any further direction, like he’s been there before and knows the place completely.

It’s weird, Mike thinks, seeing someone who’s still a bit of a stranger but also a lot of his best friend move around the basement as comfortably as his Will would.

Eventually, Will pokes his head back out, the smears of dirt on his face lining the exhausted creases of his face much more obvious in the better lighting of Mike's basement.

“I need a shower so bad, but could you guys find me some clothes? Like real clothes? And pants?” Will requests, leaning out the doorway, “To be totally honest, I would probably kill someone for a pair of pants right now.”

“Yeah of course.” Mike says, turning to run up the stairs as he hears Dustin’s voice in the background, commenting on how much hospital gowns suck.

Mike heads upstairs, wondering how he’s going to find clothes that fit Will. He’s given Will, his Will, twelve-year-old Will, clothes in the past, but Will never liked Mike’s clothes. Too preppy and scratchy, straight out of those JC Penney’s catalogs his mom likes to cut the coupons out of, knowing she’ll never convince Mike to go clothes shopping with her without him throwing a fit. Also, more importantly, this older Will is way too big for Mike’s polo shirts.

Will’s gotten… big, like surprisingly big, with broad shoulders. Mike wonders if Will’s taller than Mike in the future, if they’re all still friends. He’s too afraid to ask though. 

Unlike Dustin and Lucas, Mike’s afraid that he won’t like the answers that he gets. He doesn’t know a single older kid in high school who hasn’t turned super weird, like Nancy who went to high school and then started spending all her time in her room on the phone, completely ignoring Mike.

Regardless, not being able to lend Will his clothes leaves Mike with trying to steal his dad’s boring clothes, but Mike’s pretty sure he’ll be able to find something. He sneaks past his mother, who’s busy cleaning dishes in the kitchen while his dad snores, passed out in front of the TV, channel turned to CBS with a bunch of old people mindlessly droning on and on about politics.

Mike digs through the boxes of old clothes stored in his parents’ closet and manages to find a pair of old athletic sweatpants that still have the tags on them, bought during a misplaced false hope of his father’s when Ted thought about leaving his reclining chair for a change. Shirts though… Mike finds a basic white undershirt, steals some socks from his dad’s dresser, and runs back downstairs.

Mike plans to sneak back into the kitchen later when his parents are asleep to grab Will and Eleven some food. They both probably need something to eat, Mike reasons, and they’ve got two whole boxes of Eggo waffles in the freezer from some stupid by-one-get-one sale his Mom wouldn’t shut up about. Not that Mike can cook anything else, but he knows that his Mom keeps a stash of Will’s favorite snacks in the back of the pantry.

Does Will even still like the same snacks, Mike wonders, realizing he has no clue. The Jiffy Pop popcorn and the weird off-brand fruit snacks that had become a staple in a small corner of the Wheeler’s pantry, hidden behind the soup cans. Other-Will can’t be that different, right?

“Honey, where are you–” Karen catches him right before he enters the basement, and he whirls around, stolen clothes hidden behind his back.

“Michael, you’re covered in mud,” His mom says with a frown, looking him over. Karen’s normally styled hair has been let down and it’s frizzy, like she’s been running her hands through it, “What happened?”

“I–I just fell off my bike. It’s not a big deal.” Mike replies quickly like he can cover everything up, “I’m gonna go wash up.”

Karen sighs, but then puts her hand gingerly on his dirty shoulder, manicured nails tapping against his collarbone.

“I need to talk to you about something first, okay?” Karen says with barely withheld hesitant concern, the same voice she always uses when she’s about to break horrible news, immediately alarming Mike. So he steps back, moving away from her. 

“Can it wait, Mom? I’m tired.” Mike begs as he turns to leave, fully planning to ignore her but Karen Wheeler knows her son a bit too well, so she grabs him by the arm, turning him back around.

“Michael, it’s about Will.” Karen says and Mike freezes, brain racing as he tries to figure out if she saw him sneaking the older Will into the basement.

“Uh… okay, what about him?” Mike asks, slowly, trying to think of a believable excuse. He wonders if his mom would believe him if he said that Will was Dustin’s cousin?

“I just got a call from the police.” His mom explains, looking at him with pity clear on her face, bright pink lips pursed in concern. Her eyes are red around the edges, a small black smudge on the side of her face where she must have rubbed at them earlier.

“Officer Hopper said that he saw you and your friends poking around where you shouldn’t be, and that you– that you saw Will’s body.” Karen finishes quietly.

Mike sees it again, flashing through his mind. He hadn’t been close enough to pick up on any real details, but Will had been so pale, almost glowing in the headlights of the cars parked nearby, limp as they dragged him out of the water. One thin arm dangling from the stretcher, limp and swinging from the motion as they moved him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Mike says bluntly because he can feel the tears starting to rise again, but he doesn’t have time for that, fighting them down with effort.

“Are you sure? I know this all must be so difficult for you right now.” Karen says in her softest, most concerned voice. For some reason, the blatant worry in her eyes is the final blow that cracks through him. Mike suddenly feels sick, his stomach turning while he bites back a groan at the ache that spreads through his entire body because how the hell would his mom know what this is like, this constant terror?

“You don’t know anything, l–leave me alone.” Mike spits out and jerks out of her hold, running down the stairs and slamming the basement door shut behind him.

He hears his mom calling his name behind him for a few moments before she gives up with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll be upstairs if you want to talk about it!” Karen yells and then Mike hears her heavy footsteps walking away.

Mike sighs, wiping a hand across his face angrily before he winces, accidentally opening the wound on his chin again. He looks down at his hand and sees blood smeared across his fingers.

“Jesus, what was that about? Your mom sounded worried.” 

Dustin’s voice makes Mike look up, and he finds his friend’s worried face from where he’s sitting on the couch.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.” Mike says, “Just drop it.”

“Sure, I’ll just pretend we’re not hiding two fugitives in your basement that your mom could find out about if she just walks down the stairs for once,” Dustin responds, rolling his eyes, “No problem.”

“It’s not important Dustin, seriously. She wanted to talk about the… you know, the quarry.” Mike says, unable to bring himself to utter the words ‘Will’s dead body’ if there was any chance of it not being true.

Dustin is silent for a moment.

“Fine. You’ve got blood on your cheek, by the way.” Dustin says, pointing it out as a peace offering, “And I think Will – the time traveling one – is almost done showering.”

Mike drops the clothes he grabbed for Will right outside the bathroom door in a ritual he’s performed and perfected after years of sleepovers. Then he grabs a towel from the laundry bin nearby, trying to scrub the blood and mud off his face.

Dustin gives him a thumbs up when Mike turns to look at him before they hear a loud clatter inside the bathroom.

“Will?!” Mike whisper-yells, crossing the basement in a matter of seconds to grab the corner of the bathroom door that’s been left open just an inch, “Everything okay?”

“Gimme a minute,” Will’s voice rings out, strained, “I– actually, can you grab me a towel?”

Mike grabs the first one he sees from the dryer, an old faded blue one and sticks his arm through the small gap in the door.

“Here, I can pass you the clothes as well.”

The shower shuts off and Mike keeps his eyes trained on the wall, as he feels Will tug the towel from his grasp and then passes him the clothes as well, their fingers brushing on the way that forces Mike to look at the older Will. 

He catches just a glimpse when their eyes meet, but Mike can see a red puffiness ringing Will’s exhausted eyes.

Will’s been crying. 

Before Mike can say anything though, the door closes and he hears Will shuffling around on the other side of it, pulling himself together. He’s breathing heavily and an acute stab of worry shoots through Mike as he tries to figure out what to do. He feels like a huge creep just standing there though, so he walks back to Dustin, flopping down into his usual spot and trying not to anxiously watch the door.

Older Will wasn’t okay. But yet again, Mike didn’t know what to do about that, didn’t know if this is some new future thing or if time traveling was just super stressful. Will cried easily when he was upset but Mike didn’t think he would normally go so far out of his way to hide it from him.

Or maybe, Mike thinks, fear crawling up his spine, he never knew Will as well as he thought he did.

Not a moment later, future Will walks out of the bathroom, wet hair dangling around his hair and dripping onto his stolen clothes. They don’t fit quite right, the shirt a bit too tight around his broad shoulders and his sweatpants a bit too loose, but Will grins anyway.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed pants, oh my god.” Will says lightly even though his eyes are still red around the edges, “I’m never wearing a stupid hospital gown again.” Will moves and grabs a blanket from the couch, an old, knitted thing that Will always claims during movie night and wraps it around his shoulders like a cape.

Will sits down at their tiny card table set up in the middle of the basement and looks at the remains of their D&D game with a fond smile, like the ones his mom gets looking at old photographs.

“Have you… not been over in a while?” Mike asks, wondering why Will wouldn’t be over at his house at least once a week in the future.

Will shakes his head, “It isn’t that, it’s like… playing a weird game of spot the difference. You’ve put up different posters on the walls in the future. Not to mention my drawing skills were-“

“I like your drawings.” Mike interrupts firmly because this was an argument Mike had refused to lose since he was six and he certainly wasn’t going to stop now. Will had always been so uncertain of his talents in a way that Mike never understood, proudly displaying all of his drawings and happily proclaiming that they were from his friend, Will. His best friend, Will.

“I know, Mike. But I like to think that I’ve grown beyond my skills at age twelve.” Will says, patiently with the hint of a smile, likely thinking of the same tired argument.

The basement door is thrown open and Lucas walks in, brandishing a duffel bag.

“I bring snacks! And–” Lucas unzips it, pulling out a beanie and tossing it to Will, “– I brought what you asked for, check it out.”

“Thanks Lucas.” Will says, holding the beanie tightly in his fingers as he shoves it into his pocket. Then Will spots a bag of chips and immediately grabs it, tearing it open.

He gestures for Eleven to come join him and holds the chip bag out to her.

“Hey, try this.”

El takes a chip gingerly between her two fingers, holding it like she’s afraid to break it before she pops it in her mouth. She makes a face, nose wrinkling in disgust and shakes her head.

“No.” El says, so Will goes digging through Lucas’ stolen snacks before he finds a pack of fruit gummies and passes it to her.

“Yeah, I guess you never liked salty stuff that much either… You’ll like these though. Fruit gummies.” Will’s saying as El pops one into her mouth.

“Good.” El says simply, nodding with confidence, “You are right.”

“Yeah? I’m glad.” Will says with a small smile before he goes back to devouring the entire bag. Will’s never been a big salty food person, but he seems so happy munching on chips that no one says anything.

“Sorry, just haven’t had junk food in way too long.” Will says after a long moment when he notices them all staring.

“Like that time my mom banned processed foods for Lent and I had to beg you guys for chocolate bars all month.” Dustin says with an understanding nod.

“Yeah exactly. Not like the rest of us were eating our gross nougat candies anyway.” Will says, smiling, Dustin’s love for nougat chocolate a well-worn argument.

“Just because the rest of you don’t have good taste doesn’t mean that Three Musketeers are gross.” Dustin grumbles.

“No, they totally are–” Lucas starts to say.

“Guys, we need to focus.” Mike interrupts firmly, then gestures at Will who looks at Mike with an odd expression that Mike can’t decipher.

Mike’s a bit unsure of where to start (time travel wasn’t really something he’d thought he’d run into tonight) before he remembers how he recaps D&D sessions from the beginning when they’ve gone a whole week without playing.

“Okay so: Will went missing on the 6th. We went out looking for him at night on the 7th, but instead of Will we found Eleven who claimed to know Will and promised to help us look for him.” Mike starts explaining, mentally walking through the past three days as he moves the D&D miniatures around to match his thoughts. For Will, Mike moves Will the Wise back onto the flipped over game board, and Mike grabs a generic skeleton out of the box for El.

“Yep.” Dustin says motioning for him to continue.

“We’ve been looking for Will for the past two days with Eleven’s help, but stopped today when–” Mike pauses with a frown, the words caught in his throat.

“When they pulled a fake body out of the quarry, right?” Will finishes for him, “And you guys thought it was me? Or, twelve-year-old me.”

“So… it’s one hundred percent not Will, right?” Mike asks, eyes wide and pleading for confirmation.

Will shakes his head and it’s like the entire room sighs, letting out the tension and fear that’s been present ever since the quarry.

Mike blinks, trying to let go of the lingering doubts that keep flickering in the back of his mind that he  can’t help but hold onto even still before continuing.

“Well… then Eleven pushed us into the woods anyway and led us to Will. But not the Will we were looking for, but this other older Will, who must have time traveled from the future.”

“Do we know how he time traveled?” Lucas pipes up, pointing at older Will.

“Uh… It’s going to sound bad but,” Will shrugs, sheepish, “I can’t remember.”

There’s a pause where the boys all look between each other, the same thought in their minds.

Amnesia was always a bit too convenient.

“That’s suspicious. You know that’s suspicious, right?” Lucas asks out loud, stating the obvious with an eyebrow raised. Will sighs, running his hand through his still wet hair.

“C’mon Lucas, not this again.” Mike groans, “You know El has super powers, why is time travel so hard to believe?”

“Because it’s impossible, Mike! This stuff is fine in– in games or books, but it doesn’t happen in real life.” Lucas says, gesturing towards the table where Mike’s placed their very fictional D&D characters, “If he can’t explain it, then he’s probably making it up.”

“Let’s just go along with it for now, okay?” Dustin insists, stepping in again, “Future Will’s the best lead we have.”

Lucas sighs, rolling his eyes, but he lets Mike continue.

“So the question is: where’s our Will?” Mike asks, “And how can we help him?”

They all look at older Will, the newest addition to the team. Will fiddles with the corner of the old blanket, running the old threads dangling from the edges back and forth under his long fingers.

There’s a smudge on Will’s left wrist that Mike can’t make out, only noticing it because Will’s missing his watch.

“What happened to me is kind of… insane.” Will says and then doesn’t continue for a long moment, clock ticking away in the background as Will gets lost in his own thoughts.

“You all called it the Upside Down,” Will starts eventually, slowly like he’s not entirely certain, “It’s like… another dimension, parallel to ours, but dark… and cold…”

“Like the Vale of Shadows?” Dustin whispers amazed.

“Yeah, I guess. I never knew why you guys named everything after D&D concepts. Or why it was called the Upside Down, for that matter.” Will shrugs, reaching down to grab at the D&D miniature version of himself, flipping it around between his fingers.

“Anyway, I got trapped there when a monster pulled me into it.” Will says, “You guys named it ’The Demogorgon’, I guess because that was the last monster we fought in D&D? Anyways, It’s poking around in our world, pulling people into the Upside Down and then hunting them down, killing them.”

“… like the monster in Alien?” Lucas asks and Will shudders, looking at Lucas with horrified amazement.

“God, how have you already seen that movie? My mom never let me watch it.” Will mutters, shaking his head. Lucas is about to respond but sees Mike’s look of annoyance and shuts up.

“The monster’s more like hmm… More like the thrall of an Illithid.” Will continues, “Mindless, but hungry for blood, doing its master’s bidding.”

The boys all nod, knowingly.

“Illi... Illithid?” Eleven asks, confusion clear in her eyes as she stumbles over the word.

“They’re more commonly known as mind flayers,” Will explains as he shifts in his seat, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders, “But don’t worry about that, El. It really doesn’t matter.” 

Mike personally thinks it matters a whole lot but doesn’t interrupt Will.

“What matters is that I think El can get in contact with the me in the Upside Down. If she can do that, we can guide him towards the exit.” Will says. Mike’s about to ask for more direction, but Will apologizes first.

“Sorry, I’m not entirely sure how you all did it before, but I remember her contacting me in a… like a dark void…” Will trails off, lost in thought again. El, who’s mostly been content to stay quiet through the conversation, sitting snuggly beside Will on the couch as she munches on fruit snacks, pauses.

“The void…” El starts, then shakes her head, dropping the empty wrapper beside her.

“Wait, you know what he’s talking about?” Dustin asks.

“Dangerous.” El whispers quietly, pulling her legs up to her chest. Will puts a hand on her shoulder, comforting.

“We can try something else first then? You– future you– told me you could manipulate radios and stuff to communicate with people, even in the Upside Down. Maybe we can just try to guide him to the exit first instead?” Will tries and it makes El nod rapidly, leaning into Will’s touch, causing a spark of annoyance to flare up Mike’s spine.

“I think El heard Will on the radio earlier.” Mike says and El turns to look at Mike for the first time since he yelled at her. She doesn’t smile at him, but she does nod.

“Yes.” Eleven says, then points at the radio. “On the radio.”

“Can you find my Will?” Mike asks her, pointing at their winning Science Fair experiment picture again, all four of them smiling wide. With a photo, it’s easier to see the similarities between the two Wills, shared features standing out more obviously from the comparison.

Mike still can’t figure out why Will being so tall and older and stronger bothers him, makes his skin itch with discomfort, but he can’t help thinking about it.

Dustin passes El Mike’s Supercom and then she starts messing with the knobs, listening for a moment on each channel before switching to a new one with her eyes closed.

After a few minutes of intensely watching Eleven meditate with a radio, Mike sneaking glances at Future Will until Lucas speaks up.

“How do you know Eleven, anyways? She says you’re her brother.” Lucas says clearly doubting those words.

“It’s… complicated, but you can trust her.” Will says with a wince, but his voice doesn’t waver. He’s convinced that El is his sister, which Mike finds almost more unbelievable than the time travel. Will would have told him if he had a sister, right?

“Is she actually your sister? Do we have a long-lost Luke and Leia twin situation on our hands?” Dustin asks.

“I mean, not by birth? But yeah, she’s my sister.” Will says, “Though I think I’m probably Leia and she’s Luke.”

Even with her eyes closed in deep concentration, Mike sees Eleven’s mouth curl up in a small smile at Will’s confirmation.

“Yeah, but you’re a guy.” Dustin explains slowly, like he’s confused that Will doesn’t know that obvious fact.

“She’s the one with force mind powers, not me.” Will responds with a shrug, twirling his D&D miniature around in his fingers, a nervous habit Mike’s noticed him doing whenever Will’s low on health and spells in D&D but doesn’t want to trouble the Party by asking them to take a rest.

It’s only then that Mike sees it.

There’s a tattoo on Will’s wrist. Small and almost unnoticeable. A set of three small numbers that Mike can’t make out.

It’s almost exactly like El’s tattoo. Mike’s mind goes into overdrive, wondering how Will got it. Wondering if Will had gotten caught in the same terrible place that locked up El for so long she forgot how to talk to people.

After another few minutes pass where Mike’s thoughts spiral more and more anxiously, trying to guess what happened to the two of them, El looks up at them from the radio and shakes her head.

“Only you.” El says, pointing one slender finger towards Will, who sighs. A collective tired groan rings through the room.

“Sorry.” El apologizes quietly, fingers still playing with the dial of the radio.

“Don’t apologize, the radio was a long-shot anyway.” Will reassures her with a soft voice Mike’s never heard him use before, “You did great El.”

“Well, what now?” Mike snaps at them, starting to feel a bit annoyed by how much attention Will’s giving to Eleven.

“Well… We need a sensory deprivation tank. Or a stronger radio, I guess.” Will says thoughtfully before smothering a yawn.

Dustin’s eyes light up.

“Not sure what that first thing is, but I know where we can find at least one of those.” Dustin says before diving into a technical explanation of the A/V equipment at Hawkins middle school.

It doesn’t take long for Mike to realize Will's dozing off, head falling to the side as he blinks slower and slower as Dustin explains the fine details of his incredible plan to sneak into the Hawkins A/V club room and use the radio to contact their Will in the Upside Down.

El abruptly gets up in the middle of the long explanation, tucking into her blanket fort and closing the curtain with her mind as she cuddles into a ball. Not even a minute later, they can all hear her snoring softly.

“Guys, they’re tired.” Mike points out, “I think we can talk about the rest of this tomorrow.”

He’s not even sure what time it is, 'late' probably, the only hint a complete lack of light coming in from the door. Lucas cracks it open while Dustin collects the remains of his snacks, letting a chill breeze blow in. It’s dark, clouds blocking out the moon and the stars, the only light being the one old flickering streetlight near the Wheeler’s garage.

It reminds Mike of the last time he’d seen Will, the moment having taken on an incredible importance today when he’d realized that the last time he’d seen Will’s familiar toothy grin would be him quietly admitting that he’d rolled a seven.

Lucas and Dustin both leave, Dustin with a wave and Lucas with a disbelieving sigh, while Mike watches them go. Mind memorizing the details of their outfits, Dustin’s ever-present hat, Lucas’ big puffy jacket, the same way he has for the past few nights ever since Will disappeared. Mike can’t help but idly wonder if this is the last time he’ll see them as well. If Lucas and Dustin will be eaten up and taken away in the night like Will, leaving him completely alone.

Shaking the thought away violently, Mike turns back to see the older Will passed out hard on the couch. He’s cocooned himself in the many blankets Mike dug up, looking for all the world like his younger self with his eyes closed and the worry lines smoothed out on his face, the only sound in the basement his and El’s soft breathing.

“Night.” Mike can’t help but whisper quietly, before carefully tip-toeing up the stairs. He closes the basement door quietly, knowing his mom never checks the basement but still slightly afraid that maybe she’ll change her mind.

Lying in bed, Mike can’t seem to fall asleep, mind racing and running through every possible scenario.

Mike’s last thought before he finally drifts off into troubled dreams is that he hopes wherever Will is in the Upside Down or whatever, he’s okay. Safe.

🕐

Chapter Text

🝰

Will can’t remember how he got here, but that’s nothing new. A chill sweeps through him, the thin hospital gown he’s been forced into doing little to help him from the always-too-cold A/C that blows through the sterile lab hallways.

Will still doesn’t know where (or when) he is, he thinks, the thought slithering between his ears as he blinks, turning his attention to his immediate surroundings.

He’s holding a purple crayon, the wax leaving an uncomfortable stickiness on his fingers. When he looks down, he sees a drawing lying on the table.

It’s a rough sketch of El, younger than Will ever truly knew her, hair buzzed short. It’s definitely not his best work, Will’s pink and purple lines uneven and wobbly, but he still tried to shade in the shadows under huge eyes set on a small heart-shaped face.

“Good.” A soft voice whispers, causing Will to jump and turn.

It’s Eleven, or at least Will thinks it’s her, an eerie echo of his sketch sitting silently beside him.

Her chocolate-brown eyes meet his, looking up to Will. 

“You think so?” Will asks, “It’s not my best work but–”

El places a small hand on Will’s, stopping his words in their tracks.

“Good.” El emphasizes before she turns her eyes down to look back at the picture she’s been scribbling away at, stick figures starting to take shape on the thin white paper. She holds the crayons awkwardly, grasping them tightly in her fist because she’s clearly not been taught how to write.

Will’s not quite sure how to correct her and instead simply watches as she focuses on her wobbly lines with a fierce intensity. 

She’s as determined in this as she is in everything else Will ever saw his sister attempt back in Lenora.

Not that Will’s even sure that this is his Eleven instead of some other unfortunately numbered child because she’s so different, almost completely silent and struggling to respond with more than one or two words. She never smiles but follows the rules without question, letting the lab assistants move her around like she’s a doll instead of a child. 

Will’s memories are muddled, but he remembers seeing a small girl, wandering the hallways. How she’d watched him with wary eyes for days, hovering nearby but moving away whenever Will tried approaching her in this sad excuse for a playground. 

Eventually, she started to seek him out as well. It was only when Will saw the black 11 tattooed on her arm that made him begin to realize, with a shiver striking down his spine, that he had no idea what was happening or where he was.

Because other than the scientists, Will only saw El. It was only the two of them after all, two child experiments in a laboratory that was meant for far more, their footsteps echoing down the empty hallways. El’s desperate longing for human companionship overwhelmed her fear of new people and soon she attached herself to Will’s side whenever they were allowed to spend time together.

It’s such a far cry from the inquisitive sister who would lie on Will’s bed in California, long hair pulled back in a messy ponytail as she struggled through her homework, asking Will a million questions about homework while Will painted.

And so, Will’s spent the past few days trying to teach El how to color by drawing little crayon sketches. It’s far from his best work, but El looks so astounded by every sketch of the outside world he shows her that he can’t help but draw more.

He drew a few rough sketches of his family and friends earlier, hiding them from the cameras and whispering their names into El’s ear.

Joyce, Jonathan, Hopper, Lucas, Dustin, Max… Mike.

They were rough, and Will immediately colored over them in black after showing them to El, smearing the crayon across the page to block out their faces. Just in case.

“Look.” Eleven says simply, holding up the picture she’s drawn.

El’s in the middle, a short stick figure without a face holding hands with two others.

“Us.” El explains, pointing to the two of them. El, the small one in a shapeless white gown and Will, a tall stick figure with brown hair that’s grown way too long, bangs dangling in front of his eyes. He’s smiling.

A shaky rainbow in only four colors arches overhead, just like the one on the wall in front of them along with a few heavy yellow lines that make up a light, shining down on the three of them. Will initially thinks it must be a sun, until he sees the odd shape of it dangling in the center of the page. It’s a lightbulb, because El’s never seen the sun.

But the thing that makes Will pause is the other man standing beside her, unsmiling and almost glaring at Will from the paper.

PAPA is written above him in stumbling handwriting.

When El slowly lifts up her drawing to give Will a better glimpse, Will feels it.

The world shifts, flickering between the bright white light of the lab and the dark curdling walls that Will recognizes instantly, the horrible familiar feeling jolting up his spine and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

“What–” Will instinctively grabs the back of his neck, eyes darting around.

He’s back in the Upside Down, but it’s not like the usual twisted version of Hawkins Will hates that he’s familiar with. 

Instead, it’s like a bomb went off when Will blinked. Shards of the wall are scattered everywhere and yes, the familiar vines slither through the cracks that remain. The vines are moving, pulsing. 

They’re searching for something, Will knows in an instant, twisting his neck to look around and find it.

In El's place across the table, Will startles when he sees a horrifying inhuman face crawling with veins. Instead of El’s family, It’s holding up Will’s drawing of the Mind Flayer, torn non-existent lips curling into an inviting smile.

“Welcome home.” It says, a deep voice booming.

The drawing bursts into life, black wisps of smoke flowing out in wispy tendrils that crawl off the page, covering the twisted figure entirely and wrapping around Will, choking him—

There’s a crash and a clang and a bang and Will’s shooting up, blindly fighting whatever has him trapped in its clutches.

He can’t breathe, heart pounding rapidly in his chest as he grabs onto a tendril that’s curled around his neck, choking him, and pulls at it.

It comes away with ease, but Will’s fingers find a soft threadbare fabric instead of the slime-covered veins he’s expecting. At first Will can’t make out what he’s looking at but after a few seconds of panicked breathing, Will recognizes it as an old quilt, red and blue checkered with a few rips across the surface, but soft and a bit musty from the many years it's spent in Mike’s…

Basement?

Will looks around and sees the wooden walls, toys scattered everywhere and it’s all still so confusing because it looks off, different from the last time he was there just a few days… Wait, when was he here last?

“Shit.” Will sighs and then flinches as another loud clang echoes through the house, wrapping his arms around his knees as he tries to focus.

It’s a struggle, the Upside Down and cold lab still looming large in his mind. The Wheeler’s basement is a bit chilly, but the clutter and mess of it helps Will remember where he is, especially compared to the spotless white of the Hawkins lab—

Ugh, Will doesn’t want to think about any of that.

It takes him a minute of trying to slow his quick gasping breaths, his eyes closed as he tries not to think about anything to place the sound before it repeats and Will realizes what it is: Pots and pans clanging around in the kitchen.

Karen must be cooking breakfast at a horribly early hour. Probably pancakes, because she always makes pancakes when Mike or Nancy had a rough day.

Will guesses that finding his dead body would at least justify a pancake breakfast in the Wheeler household.

His fake twelve-year-old body that Will never saw but vaguely knew existed from late-night whispered explanations that would happen a year in the future.

Will Byers is used to impossible situations, but this whole time travel thing is definitely a contender for the top spot.

“This can’t be real…” Will can’t help but whisper, trying to wrap his mind around the whole thing.

Will had vaguely guessed that he might be in the past or some sort of weird memory simulation after realizing that the only other child they’d kept in the lab was probably a young Eleven. Will’d never actually met her until she grew her hair out a bit and spent a year with Hopper, so this solemn little Eleven who’d never known a world outside the lab still felt like a completely different person to him. 

Will sighs, leaning back on the couch. He looks over to the blanket fort where El’s still passed out, curled up in her simple blanket fort that Mike set up for her. Will only knows about it because the fort had stayed up like a monument. The only tangible reminder of the girl Mike lost.

Will never actually saw Eleven in the fort though and it’s odd, seeing that little piece of history click together. 

But Mike, Lucas, and Dustin? Will had known them so well at this age that the way they’d blinked up at him last night like they’d stepped out of his old photographs is surreal, makes him feel like he’s still dreaming.

It was so easy to forget how young they’d all been, how shocking they found the supernatural weirdness of Hawkins. Will forgets that sometimes, forgets that there was a time before it all, when everything that happened was new and almost unbelievable. When other dimensions only existed in the fictional stories they read and pretended to exist in.

If Will had somehow time traveled around the friends he’d grown up with, he’s pretty sure they’d have believed him with nothing more than an exhausted sigh, instead of the stunned disbelief he’d been met with last night.

Will sighs, pulling the blanket tighter around himself as he looks around the Wheeler’s basement. It’s a trip, the old books and pictures and toys that Will remembers from his childhood littered around the room. In Will’s time, most of them had long since been donated or thrown away, but Will’s more surprised by how little things had changed. It’s always a bit of a mess, but a comforting one with the same worn-out comfy blankets. A slightly musty smell permeates the air that he’d last been in not too long ago, chatting quietly with Mike and his friends about anything other than the looming apocalypse growing and engulfing their town. Seeping into everything that had avoided its touch before.

Will wonders what Mike, age 16, would say about it all.

Thundering footsteps coming down the basement stairs pull Will from his thoughts, even as he recognizes them as Mike’s in an instant. 

Mike, twelve years old with unbrushed hair and a wrinkled shirt, trips down the last stair in his haste, throwing his arms out before he catches himself at the bottom.

Looking around frantically before spotting Will on the couch, Mike lets out a long sigh of relief.

“Whew, you’re still here.” Mike breathes out, then pulls himself together, pulling at his shirt to flatten it out before he stands tall with better posture than Will’s witnessed from Mike Wheeler in years.

“’Morning.” Mike says, as he gives Will an awkward stilted wave and then frowns at his own actions, visibly trying not to squirm with embarrassment.

Mike’s so tiny, Will can’t help but think with delight as Mike blinks at Will with huge dark eyes. His hair’s a ruffled poofy mess and he’s wearing clothes that Will’s Mike despised now, would get embarrassed about when anyone  teased Mike about his old polo shirts.

The dark circles under Mike's eyes make Will pause though, a weird feeling of residual guilt rising at the thought that he, or some version of him, caused Mike to lose sleep.

“Did you sleep alright? Do you need anything?” Mike asks earnestly before Will can ask him the same question.

“I’m fine.” Will responds, a bit amused. Will wasn’t sure what else this younger version of Mike could realistically offer, but that had never stopped Mike before.

Mike’s always been very convincing to Will as a leader, the leader of their party, but seeing him now as a little kid acting authoritative, hands on his hips, has Will barely suppressing a smile.

It’s more than a little cute, frankly, and Will kind of wants to ruffle his hair, but he swallows down the urge because he knows how much Mike hated being treated like a child even when he was one.

“What about you? Everything good?” Will asks instead.

“Mmhmm, Mom’s making pancakes and she’s leaving me alone. Everyone found out about, well, you know…” Mike trails off, mouth turning downwards at the edges before he changes the subject, “... At least she never checks the basement except on Sundays when she does the laundry, so you’ll be fine ‘till then. She won’t find you.”

“I figured.” Will says, “Your parents never seem to notice any of the… more unusual stuff.”

“My parents never notice anything,” Mike complains with a roll of his eyes, “Except when I get in trouble at school or Nancy tattles on me for not doing the dishes.”

“But anyway, I know the couch isn’t the best to sleep on, but—”

“It’s fine Mike, I’ve slept down here before.” Will replies, stretching his arms out as he pauses to yawn, “I know I used to grab the top bunk in your room, but I don’t think I could fit up there now anyways.”

“I guess that makes sense ‘cause you’re… really tall now…” Mike trails off, voice going quiet at the end.

Will snorts, “Don’t worry, you’re still taller than me. A lot has changed, but you remain the tallest member of the Party.”

“I-I wasn’t worried about that!” Mike sputters, waving his arms like he can stop that entire line of thought.

“Then why does my height matter?” Will asks, curious and confused by Mike’s strong reaction.

“It’s just… new. Different.” Mike explains, “I mean, I knew we were all gonna get taller someday but I haven’t thought about, you know, the details.”

“Makes sense. I guess I would be surprised if I was in your position too.” Will remarks, thinking aloud. Will can’t imagine himself four years into the future, has barely even thought about it because, honestly, most of the time he’s a bit amazed that he’s made it to sixteen.

“Are we… really that different in the future?” Mike asks tentatively when Will’s been quiet for a moment, but Mike grimaces like he wishes he could take the question back the second it leaves his mouth.

“Um well… Uh, it’s… That’s a really hard question to answer.” Will hedges, “I mean, it’s like… your basement’s still comfortable. It’s always been comfortable and it’s not like I haven’t fallen asleep down here a million times. But the details have all changed, so it’s different in a lot of small ways but it’s still the same basement, if that makes sense.”

“What’s changed?” Mike asks, curiosity clear in his voice as he looks around his basement like he’ll be able to see the differences.

“I don’t think you keep that many toys down here anymore. And it’s a little weird to see all this old art again honestly. I think you’ve gotten rid of most of it in the future.” Will says, pointing at the wooden basement walls that have multiple Will Byers original drawings displayed like a miniature museum dedicated to all his shitty childhood doodles of monsters and warriors.

Sixteen-year-old Mike still kept Will’s drawings on the wall for some unknowable reason, but he’d swapped them out for new ones that Will didn’t love but were still significantly better than the ones he’s currently witnessing. There’d been so much growth in Will’s basic skills that seeing his childish scribbles (the lack of proportion… the ugly crayon colors… lore inaccurate green fireballs…) makes him cringe.

Twelve-year-old Mike catches him looking at the drawings closer and must see the frown on his face and glares at him, almost daring Will to say something so that Mike can prove him wrong.

It’s absolutely adorable, the way Mike’s nose crinkles up and his cheeks puff out in anger, ready to fight anyone, including Will himself, for the horrible dishonor of insulting Will Byers.

Will feels a crushing sense of… self-pity. Of course a younger Will Byers couldn’t help but crush on someone so willing to fight for him. Will can’t remember a time he hadn’t been a little bit in love with Mike Wheeler, but he’d only come to the horrifying realization of what it meant for him a few months before the Upside Down took him.

God, that was happening to some version of himself right now, Will realizes with rising horror.

What was he going through right now? Will tries to imagine what his younger self must be doing, what he did at age 12, but his memories of the Upside Down are blurry at best, taken over with fear and exhaustion.

Mostly, Will remembers feeling like he was the last person alive in the world, abandoned and left to rot. Kept alive by… something that wanted to toy with him.

Will groans, frustrated by the blanks in his head. It’s like someone took a pen and neatly crossed out pieces of his memories, blocked but almost like he can still see the edges of them if he squints correctly. Something about the Upside Down, the lab… Eleven? Something that wasn’t the Mind Flayer.

“—do you think? Will?” 

“Sorry, what?” Will blinks.

“... Are you sure you’re okay?” Mike insists, stepping towards Will.

“I’m fine, just got a lot on my mind.” Will says with a small shrug of his shoulders. Mike squints up at him, clearly suspicious. 

He’s so serious, too serious compared to the Mike Will remembers from before his time in the Upside Down.

They’d all changed after his initial disappearance, but Mike had been the one who changed the most in a way other than Will. And at the time, Will had appreciated it. But now, Will can already see the beginnings of it, the worry creasing Mike’s face into a frown.

“Are you okay? You seem…” Will hesitates, not sure how to word it, “On edge.”

Mike lets out an annoyed huff, “Why’re you asking me that? I’m not the one trapped in another dimension.”

Will opens his mouth to continue but Mike moves away before Will can say anything else, walking across the carpeted basement floor. He leans over and picks something up from beside El’s fort, where she’s still asleep, utterly exhausted.

Mike turns around and holds his hand out, “Here.”

Will looks and sees Mike’s familiar calculator watch resting in his palm.

“Don’t you need this?” Will asks hesitantly, looking over the watch that Mike’s worn since he got it for Christmas in elementary school and will continue wearing for years to come, “I don’t want to take it from you.”

Will’s watch that his mom bought him around the same time had been taken from him by the people in the lab along with the rest of his things. Will can’t help but mourn the loss of it, even though it’s something so small and stupid in the grand scale of things. 

“No no, it’s fine, I don’t mind.” Mike says, shaking his head, “It’s…”

Mike pauses, looking around uncomfortably before leaning in close to Will like he’s sharing a secret.

“Your… tattoo.” Mike says, lowering his voice to be almost inaudible like when they would whisper answers to each other in class, “You’re still too young to have one, right?”

Ah.

Will sighs, wincing a bit at the reminder. When did Mike see it, anyways?

“I… You’re not wrong.” Will says, shifting around on the couch as he tries to figure out how to explain it.

There’s a heavy pause that passes, Mike’s face scrunching up like he’s fighting with himself to stay silent before he loses the battle.

“Why do you and El both have tattoos if you’re both still kids?” Mike blurts out, “Is that legal? And why the number–”

“I don’t think it’s legal, but I didn’t exactly have a choice. And neither did El.” Will states and then changes tracks in a hurry when he sees Mike’s eyes shoot wide in alarm, “Uh, I mean, it wasn’t too bad, though!”

“... Really?” Mike asks, disbelief dripping from the words.

“Of course!” Will lies, “Actually, I’m been thinking of a new tattoo I can cover it up with. Maybe a giant tree? Like the two trees of Valinor or something?”

Mike hums, contemplating it. His lips are still pulled into a worried frown though.

Will can’t resist, remembering what Mike was like as a kid, “Or maybe a dragon?”

“Definitely a dragon.” Mike responds immediately, eyes lighting up at the thought, “If you gotta get a tattoo, it should totally be a dragon.”

“Totally,” Will agrees, feeling a spark of amusement rise within him, “What color do you think would be best?”

Will watches Mike’s eyes narrow, lips pursed as he fully considers the question.

“Hmm, well red dragons are the most powerful– No, wait, red dragons are too evil though… Maybe purple? They’re evil too but they fight off monsters in the Underdark even if they don’t look as cool…” Mike trails off, deep in thought, twelve-year-old brain absolutely caught up in the importance of deciding the coolest dragon.

“Eh, we can workshop it later.” Will says as he takes the watch from Mike’s hand, latching it around his wrist.

Will’s unable to suppress a smile when he sees Mike looking back and forth between Will’s drawings on the wall as if Will’s artistic renderings of dragons will be the deciding factor, “Thanks Mike.”

Mike looks up at him, a small smile blooming on his face, clearly pleased. It doesn’t last for more than a few moments though before it slides off his face, back into the same exhausted frown.

“What is it?” Will asks.

Mike doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, staring at Will as he fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt.

“Was it… bad? Where you came from.” Mike asks, hesitation clear in his voice.

“… the future?” Will tries to clarify.

“No no, not that, you were with El, right?” Mike says, “And she said that bad men were after her.”

Will nods slowly, wondering where Mike is going with this.

“And if they’re after her… they’re probably after you too.” Mike concludes.

Will isn’t surprised that Mike put some of the pieces together. He’d always been a bit too perceptive for his own good when they were younger. But Will pauses, unsure how to explain it.

Will remembers awakening in the basement of the Hawkins’ Lab, his head pounding from pain with no memory of how he’d gotten there. Most of his memories were intact, but he knows he’s missing time and memories, the feeling vaguely similar to the Mind Flayer’s possession. But Will doesn’t know what he’s missing.

He remembered every second of his time in the lab though and well…

It was… not something Will particularly wanted to think about at this moment, with Mike staring up at him with large innocent eyes.

“The lab people are after us, you’re right. I was with El and I’m not really sure how it all worked, but whatever threw me back in time–” Some Upside Down thing probably, Will thinks “–It threw me back in the lab with her.”

“‘The lab’?” Mike asks, head tilting to the side and Will curses.

“It’s… ugh, crap I thought Eleven already told you this, sorry.” Will says, frustration shooting through him as he runs a hand through his hair. It’s not like anything all that bad happened after all, but the thought of telling anyone about it, especially the sweet little kid version of his best friend makes him feel awful, shame tensing up his shoulders.

“She didn’t, just something about bad men and…” Mike says and visibly swallows before he raises one shaking hand in the shape of a gun and points it at Will.

He keeps it pointed for only a second before he lowers his hand, pulling it into a tight fist as he stares up at Will, eyes blown wide with fear. 

“… That’s…” Will pauses, swallowing, “… Well, she’s not wrong. The lab people are definitely looking for us and they’re… not afraid to use force. We’ve avoided them so far, but we had to split up immediately after escaping.”

“Did they experiment on you?” Mike asks, dark eyes so big and concerned that it makes Will feel like one of the bad men, seeing Mike’s face filled with worry.

“It really wasn’t that bad. Not like, X-Men level. More like… a really boring summer school?”

When Will started living with El in California, he spent several boring classes periods wondering about El, her life before any of them knew her. He had, admittedly, created several horror stories of her being trapped alone and mistreated as a child because she never talked about it with him. The truth wasn’t nearly as harsh as the paths his paranoid brain wandered, but some parts of it had been silently worse, far more insidious in the effects it had on his sister.

El calling Brenner “Papa” made Will’s insides squirm with discomfort, watching the way the man manipulated a little girl who had no concept of family because he denied her any knowledge that could be used against him.

And worse, whenever Will saw the two of them interact, a voice in the back of his head would whisper, over and over and over about how Papa always lied. The voice was a terrifying rasp that made him shiver in fear, but it kept Will wary and paranoid, lying about his name and past even while Brenner pushed him further and further, to unlock some “hidden” power.

It had sucked, the constant experiments and tests, but it also could have been a lot worse, Will acknowledges silently.

But Will doesn’t want Mike to worry about him. It’s yet another thing out of his control right now.

“I was lucky. I knew a world existed outside of the lab. But El…” Will sighs, looking at the fort where she’s still asleep, “She never had a chance. I think you should be more worried about her than me, honestly.”

“She’ll be fine.” Mike says dismissively, hand swatting away the concern and shocking Will into a stunned silence, “She’s got us, and we can find her, I dunno, a family or something, after we get Will back.”

“I… huh, okay.” Will lets out after a moment, caught off guard. Lucas and Dustin hadn’t been able to shut up about how obsessed Mike was with Eleven and seeing Mike so… nonchalant about her felt weird.

“Mike, breakfast!” Karen’s voice comes from upstairs, loud and demanding as always.

Mike jumps up, turning his head towards the stairs as he screams back, “In a minute!”

“I gotta go, but I’ll be back, okay? I’ll bring you some food.” Mike says quickly before he runs up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

After Mike’s noisy exit, Will moves from his spot on the couch to kneel next to El’s fort. He can hear her soft barely-there snores from behind the blanket walls and decides to leave her be for a bit longer.

Standing up, Will walks around the basement, running fingers over old drawings and toys that lay scattered all over the basement, each bringing back a rush of memories, both happy and sad, that leave him feeling intensely nostalgic.

Lost in his thoughts, Will doesn’t hear the usual tell-tale sign of leaf crunching that occurs whenever someone approaches the basement in the fall.

Instead, Will only hears the slow creak of the door opening, startling Will out of his thoughts. He jumps, ducking down to hide behind the couch before he sees who it is.

Lucas stands there, peering into the room. He’s early and looking a bit nervous, but it’s still just Lucas. Will lets out a relieved sigh, standing up.

“Good morning.” Will says but before he can say anything else, “You’re–”

Lucas holds a hand out, stopping Will from continuing as he looks at Lucas with confusion. 

Lucas takes a deep breath, psyching himself up for something. Will can’t help but to compare him to the older Lucas, who does the same thing, putting a hand on Will’s shoulder and taking a deep breath before revealing whatever was bothering him. This younger Lucas had the same fire in his eyes, determination obvious, but it didn’t weigh as heavily on his shoulders.

“Sorry I didn’t believe you earlier, man.” Lucas states firmly, clearly fighting through his embarrassment, “I was… upset.”

“It’s okay, I get it. I wouldn’t believe me either.” Will replies which isn’t quite true, but Will knows how crazy it all feels to him, so the rest of the kids before all their supernatural experiences must find it almost impossible to believe.

“But still, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” Lucas insists, “Even if you were some wacko, I should have helped you anyway. That’s what the good guys do.”

Will smiles at the determination in his voice, “No worries, you’re our ranger. Mike’s too busy charging ahead to question things sometimes. We all need you to watch our backs and that’s all you were doing. Protecting the Party.”

“Yep, you’re definitely Will.” Lucas says with a bright toothy grin that tells Will he said the right thing, “No mistaking that.”

Will and Lucas chat quietly for another minute, Will dodging all of Lucas’ questions, but it’s not long before he hears the tell-tale sign of loud thundering footsteps down the stairs, Mike’s familiar pattern keeping Will standing where he is instead of ducking down behind the couch again.

This time, it’s loud enough to wake Eleven up.

Throwing the curtain of the fort open, El’s head swivels around as she searches the entire room. When El sees Will standing nearby, she lets out a small, relieved sigh that turns into a yawn.

“Good morning.” Will says smiling, “I guess Mike woke you up.”

“Good morning.” El repeats, then blinks at Lucas who squints at her like he’s trying to figure her out. Before he can say anything though, Mike reaches the bottom of the basement stairs.

“Look what I got!” Mike says with pride, holding out two Eggo waffles like they’re treasured possessions instead of the breakfast food Will can’t admit to being slightly sick of in the future because it would make his sister sad.

Mike passes Will the Eggo waffles he must have just thrown in the toaster, still warm to the touch. They’re cooked well but…

“God, is this why El likes Eggos so much? Because that’s all you fed her?” Will asks, horrified by the realization.

“I– it’s all I know how to cook. Besides, she likes them!” Mike says defensively, gesturing to El.

El raises a single eyebrow, not confirming or denying the statement before she turns her head away from Mike, ignoring him.

“... Wow.” Will says, looking between the Eggo in his hand and Mike.

Lucas laughs while Mike’s cheeks start to turn a pale pink, clearly embarrassed.

“Shut up, it’s not like you guys can cook either.” Mike mutters, glaring at all three of them.

“Can too! I know how to make scrambled eggs.” Lucas claims with pride. It’s true too, Will remembers Lucas making him eggs with toast at sleepovers when they were younger. Simple, but good.

“That’s not cooking, that’s like– breakfast stuff.” Mike snaps back.

“Still more than you can do.” Lucas says in a sing-song tone, taunting Mike who groans and throws his arm out to shove Lucas. Lucas dodges it easily with a laugh.

Will sighs, wondering why Mike’s so touchy about everything. Or maybe they’d all been like this at twelve and Will’s blocked out how annoying they all could be.

“Guys seriously, stop fighting. Where’s Dustin?” Will asks as he steps between the two of them.

“He’s gonna meet up with us at school later, said he needed to check out a book on HAM radio equipment first.” Lucas responds, “But first…” He turns to look at El, who’s rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and blinking at them.

“We need to make her look normal.” Lucas declares. Will sighs.

“Normal?” El asks, still half asleep as she nibbles away at her Eggo waffle.

“You’re already normal, El. Lucas meant like… we need to blend in with the other kids. Which means we need to get some new clothes.” Will says, immediately taking over. He wouldn’t trust Mike and Lucas with the task of dressing themselves, much less his sister. 

He tells the boys to look through some of the boxes in the basement to find El shoes or something while Will escorts her upstairs. Mike’s parents are gone, so it’s easy to walk through the house, searching for wherever Karen Wheeler stores her kids’ old clothes as he wonders what sort of clothes El would like at this age.

She’s in an old pair of Mike’s sweatpants and a T-shirt that doesn’t fit her at all and Will quietly despairs for a moment because he doesn’t know a thing about normal girl’s clothing. He’s horrible at fashion beyond “comfortable, plaid, and blends into the background” but he thinks that’s exactly what this situation requires.

And it’s not like Will’s dressed that well either. Stuck in a tight plain white undershirt that stretches at his shoulder and bunches up at his waist along with some loose sweatpants, Will feels like he’s trying to be one of those weird sporty jocks he would occasionally see jog past his window in California. He does stop to grab an old black leather jacket that’s clearly been left to rot in the back of the Wheeler’s coat closet and grabs a pair of adult sneakers, unused without a speck of dirt on them, hiding in the corner.

Maybe later he can sneak into his own home to borrow some of Jonathan’s clothes, Will thinks with growing despair, because the Wheeler’s have such a weird rich person sense of fashion, all bright colors and obnoxious patterns meant to stand out for a year before being replaced.

El watches him with confusion when he heads into Nancy’s room (that’s surprisingly unlocked) while Will hunts for her old clothes, fully planning on raiding Nancy’s closet. Luckily, he finds a small box of Nancy’s old clothes in the bottom of her closet along with some old pants and a few shirts.

“So, which do you like the best?” Will asks, holding the shirts out for El like he did when they first moved to Lenora and she’d realized that her few outfits from her time in Hawkins didn’t fit quite right anymore. 

She ignores him at first, transfixed by the various trinkets in Nancy’s pink bedroom, trailing her fingers over Nancy’s pictures of herself and her friends until Will clears his throat to get her attention.

“El, which shirt do you want to wear?” Will tries again.

“... Why?” El turns to him with a question, completely lost. She glances between Will and the shirts like she has no clue what he’s asking.

She probably doesn’t, Will realizes with a sinking feeling, because she’s never been allowed to choose. Not for the first time this morning, Will feels horribly out of his depth.

“...Because they’re more comfy than the clothes you’re wearing right now. And we need to sneak into a school so… gotta blend in.” Will explains after a long pause.

“Comfy?” El asks, tilting her head in confusion.

“Hmm…  Comfy things are like… they feel good when you wear them. They’re… warm?” Will tries, gesturing to his own clothes.

El still seems baffled by the multiple options, looking between a frilly pink shirt and a purple sweater like they’re particularly complicated math problems instead of clothes.

“Let’s… try this one? We can try them all on.” Will says instead, and hands El the pink shirt.

Then, Will turns and starts rifling through Nancy’s closet for more clothes to give El some privacy, silently begging that El knows how to change herself and letting out a sigh of relief when he hears her start to move behind him, changing.

When Will turns back around with an armful of shirts and pants, El’s looking at herself in the mirror, the frilly top with lace a bit too big, slipping off her shoulder.

“Not pretty.” El says with a frown, pulling at the lace like she could tear it off while she stares at herself in the mirror. Will… doesn’t know what to do with that. But in spite of that, he crouches down next to her.

“You are pretty. This is just the wrong shirt, okay?” Will insists, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Nancy’s got a ton of stuff here and I’m sure we’ll be able to find something that fits.”

El looks up at him, disbelief clear on her face.

“Friends don’t lie.” El says, her response firm and immediate before her voice wavers a little, “Right?”

“Right.” Will says in what he hopes is a comforting voice before handing her an old purple sweater.

This continues for another few outfit changes, Will handing her every possible shirt he finds in Nancy’s wardrobe, wondering what El is looking for.

After the first few failing to get more than a frown out of El, she starts to get into it a bit more, waving her arms around in the long-sleeved sweater he hands her, flapping the way too big arms around. She’s smiling as Will keeps passing random items to her, an old raincoat, an ugly paisley scarf, a bright pink beret that he’s never seen Nancy wear.

At one point, he hands El a giant Christmas sweater with a hideous reindeer bulging out of the front of it and El takes it, then looks at it with disgust before passing it back.

Will moves to put it back in the storage of Nancy’s closet, but El shakes her head.

“No, for you.” She says, then points at his shirt. Will blinks at her for a moment before laughing.

“You want me to wear this?” Will asks with amusement, taking a better look at the world’s ugliest reindeer sweater.

El nods, smiling. Will sighs, pretending to be annoyed but secretly delighted that Eleven’s asking him for something. The sweater’s just big enough, he thinks. He squeezes into it and then throws his arms out, modeling it. The reindeer on the front is stretched weirdly across his torso and Will’s thankful that no one his age or older is around to see him.

El’s eyes go wide and for the first time, Will hears her giggle, soft and barely there.

“This is peak fashion alright. You’ve got a great eye.” Will says and El giggles again before Will passes El a skirt and then pulls the sweater off.

They continue swapping clothes for a while until finally, El pulls on a faded blue overall dress with several pockets over a lavender shirt.

El looks at herself in the mirror in the new outfit, her eyes wide as her eyes look up and down.

“Do you like it?” Will asks softly.

“Comfy.” El says with a nod but then looks up to Will, shy and uncertain, “Pretty?”

“You look great,” Will says sincerely, hoping she believes him because he has no clue how to convince her, “Very pretty.”

Even better than pretty, Eleven looks like a kid who could be in middle school, though Will’s not quite certain what to do about her hair.

There’s a knock on the door and before either of them answers, Mike’s sticking his head in, waving a blonde party wig.

“Look what we found!” Mike says, looking far too proud of himself.

“Do you know how to put a wig on?” Will asks, giving him a flat look, “Because I don’t.”

After an intense discussion, an argument over hairclips and Mike’s horrifying suggestion to use scotch tape, they’re able to just barely get the wig on El’s head.

It looks weird and when El shakes her head, it comes loose, sliding down her head.

“Not comfy.” El says with a frown.

Hmm, okay… Will suddenly remembers the knit cap he asked Lucas for yesterday, pulling it out of his pocket with an “Oh right, here, try this on!”

El slips the red knit cap on over her head, pulling it down to snugly cover the tops of her ears.

“Comfy.” El says, her eyes shining.

El still looks a bit off, the red hat not quite matching the rest of her outfit, but it fits her. Reminds Will of his sister, more grown up but who’d still never quite understood fashion no matter how hard she tried.

“It’s perfect.” Will agrees.

“We’ll just say she’s from Sweden or something,” Lucas suggests with a shrug, causing Will to squint at him judgmentally, “What? They probably dress super different than us!”

Mike looks at Lucas like he’s crazy, but doesn’t say anything as they head out the basement door into the cold morning to grab their bikes. Will grabs Nancy’s old bike, El hopping on behind him as they take off into town.

Will can’t help but shiver from the November wind. He hates this weather, hates November as a concept in general at this point, but he doesn’t have time to think about that now, shoving all his discomfort down deep while he tries not to shiver noticeably as they all pedal down the road, taking the longer way back through winding backstreets instead of the main town drag.

The last few dying leaves are barely hanging onto their branches as they speed past and the woods that Will always loved feel threatening, like they’re looming over him and hiding a terrible secret. Will almost feels like he’s back in the Upside Down, dodging through trees and constantly aware of a waiting threat he can’t name but can feel in the way his spine tenses and the goosebumps crawl up the back of his neck.

The ride isn’t too long though, and Will finds himself in front of his Hawkins Middle School in record time.

It looks the exact same as Will remembers, old stained brick walls with a fading blue paw print emblazoned on the side. He’s oddly surprised to see it though, almost like it shouldn’t be standing here for whatever reason.

“Will, c’mon, Dustin’s waiting inside.” Lucas says, pulling Will from his thoughts.

They rush into the middle school, ill-fitting sneakers squeaking on the dirty tiles as they rush through the back door on their way to the AV room. Will towers over the lockers and can’t help but hunch his shoulders more than usual, feeling like a giant in a place he’s only ever been small.

It doesn’t take them more than a minute before they bump into Dustin who’s cursing at the door handle of the AV room, jiggling it like that could somehow make it open.

“It’s locked!” Dustin exclaims angrily as he waves them over. They all peer at it for a moment, trying to think of a solution. Will vaguely remembers being given a key to the AV room after everything happened, Mr. Clarke giving it to him as a ‘so glad you’re still alive’ present. 

“Can you open it with your powers?” Mike asks El. El nods and stretches out her hand. They hear footsteps approaching and Will hopes with all his heart that it’s not one of the strict gym teachers who would kick this obviously-too-old-to-be-here teenager out of the school.

It’s Mr. Clarke, thankfully, appearing from around the corner,

“Hey kids, what’re you up to?” Mr. Clarke asks as he walks towards them. All the kids except for Will jump, Eleven throwing her hand behind her back.

“Mourning.” Lucas says bluntly, then remembers to frown.

“I know…” Mr. Clarke says, concern evident in his soft voice and he looks genuinely sad, his mustache trembling a bit under sympathetic eyes, “I’m sorry, kids, I know this must be so hard for you.”

“Soooo hard.” Dustin agrees, making a face that looks more constipated than anything else.

None of them will be winning an award for acting anytime soon, Will thinks, but Mr. Clarke looks like he’s about to cry regardless.

“I understand.” Mr. Clarke says with such genuine sympathy that Will feels immediately guilty before Mr. Clarke notices Will and Eleven, “Oh, and who are you?”

“I’m a, uh, cousin of the Byers. Just wanted to, you know, look around.” Will says awkwardly, “See the sites.”

“You do look remarkably similar to Jonathan… What’s your name?” Mr. Clarke asks.

“Luke.” Will says, this particular practiced lie rolling easily off the tongue, “And this is my sister Le-… Ellie.” 

All the kids nod rapidly.

“They’re visiting… you know, for the funeral.” Mike adds.

“Yeah exactly, Ms. Byers wanted W– Luke to stay with us for the day. Y’know, because we’re sad.” Dustin says, his entire face melting into the biggest pout Will’s ever seen.

“So so sad.” Mike agrees with a large sigh before he stares off into the distance of the middle school hallway.

“Sad.” Eleven adds in.

“So sad… and all we really want now are the keys to the AV room. So that we can show… Luke one of Will’s favorite places. And mourn.” Lucas finishes.

Mr. Clarke blinks at them for a moment before tossing the keys to Dustin, who catches them.

“Well then, how about this? After the assembly, the room’s all yours for the rest of the day.”

“Assembly?” Will can’t help but ask because he doesn’t remember ever hearing about that from any of the Party members.

“Oh right, you probably haven’t heard. We’re having a memorial assembly for Will and it’s just started. You’re more than welcome to attend.” Mr. Clarke explains as he starts to herd them towards the gym, “And boys, I’m afraid you also need to attend. Let’s do it for Will, okay?”

✕

“Today, our community suffered a terrible loss. Will Byers was a beloved student here at Hawkins Middle School–”

Tightly wedged between Mike and El on the bleachers in the middle of the gymnasium listening to an entire crowd of adults Will’s never met in his life talk about Will Byers like he’s some Saturday News tragedy makes Will want to flee the country and never return. Too busy trying to disappear through the floor forever, Will completely misses the first several minutes.

“–he will be dearly missed–” The principal continues with such grim sincerity that it almost makes Will laugh, the insanity of there being an actual school assembly, just for nobody Will Byers, completely overpowers Will’s embarrassment. 

Will’s pretty sure that the principal and all these other adults never even knew his name before all this.

It’s surreal, and more than a little uncomfortable. Feeling weirdly paranoid that people will put two and two together and realize that he’s the supposed dead kid makes Will curl in on himself even more. Not that it helps, because he still towers over the surrounding middle schoolers. Which doesn’t help things feel any more normal, because Will mostly remembers how all the kids in middle school had seemed so huge when Will walked down the hallways, one of the shortest in their grade.

Tuning out the rest of the assembly for his own sanity (because it’s filled with a bunch of useless platitudes and lies about how sad everyone is when Will knows that’s not true), Will can’t help but to glance around to see how everyone else is reacting to it all.

The rest of the Party keep sneaking nervous looks between Will and the adult speakers, like they’re worried that he’ll be upset by it all. Mike in particular can’t seem to stop frowning, brow furrowing more and more with every word that comes out of the principal’s mouth.

“–When someone leaves our life, it can be difficult to cope, an impossible change that takes hold of the entire community. Grief shows itself in funny ways, you know–”

A few middle schoolers do look genuinely upset, faces down-turned into concerned frowns. But most of them just look bored at having to sit through a school assembly, ready to get on with the rest of their day.

Will can’t blame them; the principal always talked a lot without saying much of anything. But Mike, Lucas, and Dustin can’t seem to help looking around at all the other students, growing more and more annoyed at the other kids' reactions.

“Fakers. They never even liked him.” Mike grumbles, followed by Lucas letting out a huff of agreement.

Eleven’s holding tight to Will’s wrist, right above the watchband Mike let him borrow as she looks around the gathered kids with wide eyes.

She probably doesn’t have a clue what’s happening, Will thinks, but she’s really sticking it out.

A loud whisper from behind him breaks the somber mood and causes Will to look over his shoulder only to see Troy Walsh, a horrible reminder of all the times he threatened and shoved Will around during recess. He’s snickering about Will Byers being dead, making fake boo-hooing noises as he elbows his buddy.

Will can’t even find it within himself to be surprised, not when Troy was the one who’d taught Will dozens of different cruel words Will could use to describe himself that he mostly tries not to think about.

“We all cared deeply for Will, and if anyone needs to talk about the sadness of his passing–”

Troy laughs a little too loudly, causing Mike to flinch badly beside him before he tenses, shoulders shaking with barely constrained fury. Will knows Mike’s about one more bad comment away from doing something stupidly courageous in Will’s defense.

It’s admirable, always has been, Mike’s unstoppable sense of black-and-white, right-and-wrong. Mike never defends himself, but the bullies know better than to say a bad word about one of Mike’s friends around him.

It sets him off like a badly aimed firecracker every time. By the end of middle school, Mike Wheeler would develop a truly cruel sneer and enough snappy comebacks to send most wannabe assholes flying for cover. 

But he wasn’t there yet.

Instead, Mike Wheeler’s just a scrawny middle school kid with a horrible habit of refusing to back down against opponents he can never beat, the still-healing scrape on Mike’s chin a blaring reminder.

The assembly ends before Will can say anything though, Mike slipping out of his attempt to grab him as he runs down the bleachers.

“Hey!” Mike yells, storming towards Troy, “You think this is funny?” 

Troy and his friend stop and turn around, watching Mike like they can’t believe he’s even talking to them. Will can relate.

“I-I saw you guys laughing over there.” Mike says, face blank, but his hands are clenched into fists at his side. 

“What’d you say, Wheeler?” Troy asks, eyes narrowing like he can’t believe Mike would even talk to him.

Will starts to move through the crowd, untangling El’s hand from his arm as he goes.

“I saw you guys laughing over there,” Mike states, voice firm even as his knees shake, ever so slightly, unnoticeable to anyone but Will, though he can’t tell whether Mike’s trembling from rage or fear, “And I think that’s a real messed up thing to do.”

“Weren’t you listening to the counselor, Wheeler? Grief shows itself in many ways.” Troy’s friend, James, says with a smirk, looming behind Troy.

“Besides, what’s there to be sad about, anyway? Will’s in fairyland now, flying around with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay!” Troy spits out as he starts to flap his arms, mockingly.

Will freezes, shame flooding him and rooting him to the floor. 

He knows it’s stupid, so so stupid to be scared by a kid like this when Will’s sixteen now, but it’s like he forgets that he’s outgrown this, like he’s a dumb kid being shoved into lockers all over again. Completely helpless.

Troy and James snicker, high-fiving one another before they turn to walk away. Will senses more than sees Mike snap.

Mike takes a determined step forward and the realization that Mike is going to attack Troy forces Will out of his own fear, overwhelmed with concern for Mike like they’re both twelve and about to get beaten up again if Will doesn’t do something. 

Lunging forward into motion, Will takes two large steps forward, and grabs Mike by the shoulder, holding him in place.

Mike’s head snaps around to look at Will, utter betrayal clear in his eyes.

“Why would you–” 

“Just ignore them.” Will insists, hoping his voice is steadier than he feels.

“But Will–!” Mike cuts himself off, teeth clenching around the rest of that sentence when he sees that there’s a group of middle schoolers staring at them, James included.

“It’s a future thing,” Will whispers before raising his voice, “Just trust me. They’re not worth it.”

Will’s never gotten the full story of why exactly Eleven and Mike Wheeler broke Troy’s arm while he was missing, but he’d rather not repeat it. Will can only think of how Troy moved away in eighth grade, clearly terrified of Mike and Dustin and their demon friend who could break arms enough to the point that he was able to talk his mom into transferring him to some private school.

Troy turns back around and James’ glares at them.

“What was that?” James asks, glaring up at Will, “We’re not what?”

“Nothing.” Will says quickly, kicking himself for saying anything at all, “We’re leaving.” 

Will tries to pull Mike back, but he’s stubbornly planted his feet on the ground like a statue and Will can’t move him.

“No we’re not,” Mike exclaims, indignant as he shoves at Will’s arm, trying to push him off, “These guys are such–”

“Mike, not now.” Will interrupts him.

“Yeah Wheeler, listen to your friend.” Troy says, pointing at Will while he takes a threatening step towards them, “You always take everything so seriously, we’re just joking.”

“Can’t take a joke, huh?”

Will feels a sudden pressure on his back, like someone’s tugging harshly on his shirt. It makes him stumble backwards, towards the exit of the gym. Mike’s also pulled to the side almost as if by magic, tripping and falling harshly to his knees.

A crowd of people are staring at them, with several of the middle schoolers starting to laugh.

“C’mon guys, let’s go, go, go, go!” Dustin says as he tries to shove Will forward. Lucas pulls Mike up by the arm, dragging him away from the scene.

Mike yanks his sleeve out of Lucas’s hand with a glare, but doesn’t say another word. Will turns to check that El’s following them and she is, wiping her nose with her sleeve as she runs after the rest of them down the middle school hallway.

Everything feels claustrophobic now, the walls closing in on Will as they all race back towards the AV room, the feeling of people’s eyes on them threatening and pushing them into action.

They’re all very experienced in this particular maneuver, years of bullying having turned this into something almost routine and Will falls back into it easily. Dustin unlocks the door in no time, followed by Will checking to make sure they're all inside before Lucas slams the door shut, locking it behind them.

An audible sigh of relief is shared the moment the door closes, the old protection of this room something that hasn’t changed. The old tech equipment turned into a fortress they all could hide in to gather their strength before being forced to face the rest of the world.

“Troy’s such an asshole.” Lucas exclaims angrily, pulling off his jacket and throwing it down in the corner with a huff.

“None of us believe any of that stuff, for real.” Dustin insists, making serious eye contact with Will like he’s pleading for Will to believe him.

Will’s entire body locks up in terror, Dustin’s words hitting him like a physical blow because this? This conversation? 

It’s never happened before. 

His friends have always defended him, stepping in when the other kids got really nasty, but they never said anything to him about the many cruel words people threw at him like weapons. The usual response was just an awkward supportive pat on Will’s shoulder after they told whoever was calling him names to fuck off.

All the insults that had always been directed towards Will from when he was a child who barely knew what they meant beyond “bad” “wrong” “mistake” still hurt, but Will’s numbly resigned to them now.

Because they’re all true. Will knows he’s a– 

Shaking the thought away, Will wonders if the younger versions of his friends would still step in to defend him if they realized Troy was right. Wonders if his friends, back in his time, would still step in to defend him.

He doesn’t know, has never truly known how they’d react. And it’s the scariest unknown in his life.

“... Thanks.” Will says awkwardly way too late, hoping none of the kids can hear how weak it sounds.

Dustin smiles at him opening his mouth but before he can say anything else, Will interrupts him.

“Guys, we need to focus.” Will says, deciding to ignore everything else completely before realizing that he actually has no clue how they got El to tap into the Upside Down through radios.

Will kind of wishes someone who actually knew the details of what happened had been thrown back in time instead of him, the kid who got kidnapped.

“So El, what do you need?” Will asks, “Just a better signal?”

El looks at all the equipment with confusion, but Dustin starts messing with it and setting it all up while El pokes at a few of the dials curiously. Dustin starts to make an annoying clicking noise into the mic, testing it until Lucas smacks Dustin’s hand away from the microphone.

Will turns away from them, amused.

Mike scoffs, causing Will to suddenly remember what sparked all of this in the first place. Will turns to him, more than a little hesitant.

The younger Mike is shaking beside him, filled with an anger he clearly doesn’t know what to do with as he stares off, caught up in some train of thought Will can’t decipher.

“Hey, you okay?” Will asks, trying to keep his voice soft. Mike just grunts, turning his head away.

“I don’t speak that language Mike, c’mon.” Will says lightly before leaning down and quieting his voice so the others can’t hear them, “Seriously, you look pissed.”

“I just!” Mike starts loudly before pulling himself back when the others look up at the outburst, lowering his voice into an angry whisper, “I hate this. They all think you’re dead but Troy’s still talking shit about you? Why?!”

“I don’t know.” Will says truthfully. And it is a truth, albeit one with a bitter lie hidden inside it, the truth that Will hasn’t ever said aloud.

“It’s just– it’s not fair!” Mike exclaims, all righteous twelve-year-old paladin anger boiling over into stumbling furious words, “It’s mean and wrong a-and—”

“Hey hey, I know. Believe me, I get it, I totally get it.” Will says, recognizing this mood in an instant, knows it’s better to divert Mike before he starts crying because there’s no coming back from that and Mike’s eyes are already getting misty, “It sucks to hear all this stuff, but they don’t really get it, do they?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, it’s not like they’re the ones caught up in a crazy time travel alternate dimension situation, right? And I’m super glad they’re not! Can you imagine if I’d had to be rescued by Troy Walsh of all people?” Will exclaims, hoping it’ll cheer Mike up.

Mike looks at Will with horror clear on his face, eyes wide.

“He’d leave you to die.” Mike whispers with a horrified frown like he’s imagining it and Will winces, tries to recover,

“Yeah, but– but you wouldn’t! Mike, you didn’t give up on me when everyone else thought I was dead. Neither did Dustin or Lucas. I’m super lucky that you guys are my best friends and not that–” Will pauses, not wanting to curse out a twelve-year-old.

“Mouthbreather.” Eleven chimes in. Will wonders where the hell she learned that word.

“Exactly. Thank you, El.” Will says and Eleven nods back at him in solidarity, “You all have done so much more to help me and– and the entire world than the rest of those mouthbreathers will ever know.”

Mike’s still frowning but he gives Will a hum of acknowledgement, loosening the guilty knot in Will’s chest. He doesn’t seem convinced, but at least he’s not shaking anymore. Will counts that as a win.

“... Ho-ly-shit, do we save Hawkins?” Dustin breathes out excitedly, breaking out into an overly excited grin, “Wait, do we save the entire world?!”

“How was that what you got from everything I just said?” Will asks wryly.

“Guys, shut up!” Lucas interrupts, gesturing at Eleven. Her eyes are closed, static audibly blasting through the speakers as she tunes the radio.

The boys all stop talking immediately, watching her in amazed silence. El’s powers are still something so new and exciting to witness for them as she casually turns knobs and adjusts wires without touching them.

There’s a few muffled hints of sound, before Will’s voice, young and clear, comes through loud and clear.

“–I’m– Mom, I’m here! Please–” The speakers crackle. Eleven adjusts them without moving an inch.

“It’s Will.” Mike breathes out, voice shaking. There’s a few muffled voices, but it takes El a second to find the right frequency.

“–the wall, Mom, please! Break–”

A horrible roar blasts out the speakers, drowning out the rest of the words.

“Oh no…” Lucas whispers.

Will’s about to reassure him, but before he can say anything, something impossible happens.

“–Mike! Find Mike Whe–”  A second, deeper voice rings out through the static.

“Who is that?” Mike asks, turning to all of them desperately.

“How are we supposed to know?!” Dustin yells back.

“Wait, that can’t be…” Will says aloud, a horrible idea coming to him, “But how–”

“–Run, you– run!”

It is him.

That’s Mike’s voice. His Mike, sixteen-year-old Mike, screams from the radio.

“Mike.” Will whispers, stunned. The lights flicker violently before cutting off, leaving them in complete darkness.

Mike’s stuck in the Upside Down with his younger self, Will realizes with horror.

Before they can hear anything else, the radio in front of El bursts into flames.

⧗

Chapter Text

⧗

Will Byers is twelve and terrified, trembling under the rotting pieces of wood that make up Castle Byers, sitting on the forest floor where the normal glossy leaves turned brown and slimy and wilting. Will doesn’t think that he asks for all that much in life, but ever since he was a little kid he’s known better than to expect to get anything he wants.

Normally, Will tries really really hard not to want things, but as he peeks in between the wooden slats to stare out at a stormy red sky, he can’t help but think about how badly he wants to go home. Or how much he wants something to eat right now, or how scared he is or-

No. He’s not thinking about any of that. Instead, he forces himself to focus on humming, voice cracking in and out.

—Should I stay or should I go now? If I go, there will be trouble, and if I stay it will be double—

Whatever dark dimension Will’s found himself in being kind enough to replicate the crayons and comic books Will left in Castle Byers the last time he was there, so he tries to pass the time when he can. It’s too dark to see and too dangerous to get caught up in any real drawing attempt, but he’s made the odd doodle here-and-there. Spirals, a half-attempted drawing of the Party fighting the Demogorgon from their last campaign, the monster he’s only gotten glimpses of in his hurried escape attempts.

The monster had found him earlier, when Will was hiding out under Jonathan’s bed and accidentally bumped into one of those gross vines that were crawling all over. It... Well, Will’s not sure how to describe it in words, its head a giant mouth that unfurled to screech at him, revealing rows and rows of sharp teeth.

Will tries to breathe slowly as he wipes dirt off his face. He can’t work himself into a panic again because it’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe deeply. Will keeps trying, remembering that time he got pneumonia, coughs rattling around in his chest. Will tries to think logically, strategically, wondering how long he has until the monster finds him again.

It almost felt like a game sometimes, one Will could almost pretend was make-believe. His role in the Party was to find a fortified position so he could cast his spells in peace. Clenching his eyes closed, Will could pretend that this was all just some complicated version of hide-and-seek, like when Dustin came back from summer camp and taught them all how to play manhunt on a sticky summer evening.

Dustin always volunteered to be the first hunter, giving everyone time to run deep into the woods beyond the Byers’ backyard. Lucas and Will were always the last to be caught, ‘cause Lucas always picked the best tactical hiding spot, climbing trees and keeping lookout while Will could tuck himself into the tiniest gaps behind trees. Mike was usually the first one caught unless he got help from the others, tripping over his feet in the woods.

Mike would hide behind a massive tree trunk across from Will’s hiding spot, peaking out behind it occasionally to meet Will’s eyes while their shoulders shook with silent laughter while Dustin chased a screaming Lucas through the woods.

...

..

.

—This indecision's bugging me, if you don't want me, set me free, exactly whom I'm supposed to be—

Will knows he needs to keep quiet, but he hates it, can’t ignore the occasional sound of something slithering in the undergrowth or thunder cracking overhead that make him jump.

Will’s getting sick of waiting around and hiding, getting caught and then running for his life and hiding. Then waiting around again, only to run and hide and wait and run and hide and wait and run and hide—

But it’s all he can do when the monster chasing him won’t stop. Will doesn’t know why the monster circles and chases him down instead of immediately going for the kill, giving Will precious seconds to escape, but the lack of knowing is starting to feel worse than if the monster just killed him. Thinking through every D&D monster he’s ever read about late at night in the Wheeler’s basement, sticky fingers flipping pages of monstrous sketches, makes Will’s mind race through all the horrible reasons a monster would chase someone down, what else they could do to him.

Because, somehow, Will knows the monster isn’t trying to kill him.

It’s trying to kill everyone else.

An older girl screamed for hours, earlier. Crying out familiar names as she screeched for help, shattering the horrible silence. Screaming out in pain as she—

...

..

.

Will doesn’t want to think about it, the sound of crunching bones horribly clear and ringing in his ears still from where he hid in Castle Byers. Will didn’t know what to do, hadn’t wanted to risk his hiding place to help but… the guilt is overwhelming now.

—there's no future, no future, no future for you—

Switching songs under his breath, going through every song he knows and making a few up to fill the silence that surrounds him. Jonathan would be proud of how many songs Will knows by heart, probably.

—when there’s no future, how can there be sin, we’re the flowers in the dustbin, no future, no future for me—

…

..

.

That’s the thing they never mention in the movies, Will thinks, the parts where the heroes wait around for something to happen.

They cut those bits out because no one wants to watch a stupid kid hiding and crying for hours, Will thinks, frustrated with how useless he is. But he just doesn’t know what else to do. Shooting the monster hadn’t worked at all, bullets barely slowing it down before it knocked the gun from Will’s hands and nearly grabbed him before Will could dash away and hide.

All Will could do was run and hide...

Lonnie had always said it was the only thing he was good at.

Lonnie didn’t know anything about wherever he was though, Will thinks uncharacteristically vindictive, would probably get himself killed because he stood around screaming at how stupid the monster was instead of running. There’s a hint of bitterness Will doesn’t usually let himself feel floating up to the surface. 

That’s the thing about hiding in terror for hours alone: Will has way too much time to think. And think he does, about everything that led him to this moment.

Why him?

Why is the monster after him? What did Will do wrong?

Will has a sinking feeling that he deserves it, that some higher super being must have figured out one of the many things deeply wrong with Will and punished him by forcing him into a nightmare. Will’s legs are starting to hurt from where he’s curled himself up into a ball, but he hunches further into himself.

Is it just him? Or is it after his friends too and Will just happened to be the unlucky first person to die in a horror movie, the weird friend that no one really missed and just existed to set the stakes, prove that the movie was willing to kill its characters?

He wonders if his friends miss him at all and immediately feels embarrassed, stupid, to be worrying about something so small at a time like this. What do Dustin and Lucas think? What does Mike think? Does he miss Will, or is Mike continuing their campaign without him, killing off Will the Wise for good?

...

..

.

Branches crack behind him, something running through the woods nearby.

Will pulls himself into a tighter ball, hoping the monster can’t sense him through the slimy curtain of the fort. After a moment though, Will realizes that it doesn’t sound like a monster at all. No, the crunching sounds more like a human, awkwardly throwing themselves through tree branches. Hidden right by the entrance, Will peers through a slit in the wood.

A person almost dashes past him, before they stop, jerking back as if stunned by the sight of Castle Byers.

“Whoa.” He—the voice isn’t too deep, but Will’s pretty sure from the way the person’s standing and the clothes he’s wearing, all dark and torn, with a dark green bomber jacket—that it’s a boy. Not that Will can make out any features through the peephole other than long limbs and heavy panting as the boy puts his hands on his knees and leans over, trying to catch his breath.

“… Am I seeing things?” The boy mutters to himself eventually, “Why is Castle Byers still here?”

Will lets out a gasp of surprise that a random stranger would know the full name. It’s suspicious, it’s so suspicious. But the boy is the first living person Will’s seen alive in the Upside Down besides himself and the loneliness of the past few days makes him desperate. So, Will leans forward to get a better look.

The boy is wearing a bandana around his face, blocking his mouth, with goggles that cover his eyes so Will can’t make out his face. Will tries to scooch quietly closer. The fort shakes on unsteady foundations, audibly creaking in the silence.

Will freezes, but it’s too late.

The boy jumps, “Who’s there?!”

Shoving the curtain aside, the boy flicks his flashlight on, illuminating Castle Byers. When he sees Will, cowering in the corner, he stops moving completely.

“… What the fuck?” The boy gasps out, shock clear in his voice.

 The way the boy almost stumbles back in surprise sets off the many alarm bells Will’s trained himself into having in this place, especially when Will can’t see his face,

As Will tries to stand, his legs buckle, stiff from staying in the same position for so long. The uneven branches that make up the entrance catch and snag on Will’s already torn clothes, pulling him back down onto his knees.

The boy leans down, moving the curtain and branches fully aside with his gloved hand, looking down with amazement.

“…Will?” The boy asks, his voice softening around the edges of Will’s name, a word clearly familiar to him.

“You know me?” Will asks incredulous, the words coming out raspy and nervous from his constant singing and running.

 “Of course.” The boy scoffs, like it’s obvious, his nose crinkling up, offended. The boy takes a knee beside him and extends his hand.

Will flinches away from it before he realizes what’s happening, still on high alert.

“U-uh… sorry?” Will apologizes, when the boy's shoulders drop in disappointment.

The boy shakes his head, pulling back his hand with a sigh, “No, no, I’m sorry I startled you.”

Will looks between the boy, who’s watching Will expectantly, and the boy’s hand, long pale fingers in torn black gloves, to solve the puzzle.

But Will’s never met someone in real life who looks like they came straight out of a Mad Max apocalypse movie, so he just stares at him, confused.

“Oh wait. Duh.” The boy says, leaning back in realization before he reaches up to pull the bandana away from his mouth and pushes up his goggles to reveal his face.

Will squints at him, studying a face that’s familiar yet impossible.

The boy’s eyes are soft, crinkled at the edges in concern, but they’re so dark in this nightmare that Will can’t make out any other details. He’s clearly exhausted as well, dark purple circling the puffy redness that makes Will wonder if he’s been crying, tear tracks only visible because they’ve washed away the dirt that must have been smudged across sharp cheekbones.

But most importantly, the boy is frowning, lips turned downward in a way that Will immediately recognizes.

“… Are you— no, that’s impossible…” Will says, looking away in embarrassment at his own stupidity.

Why would an older Mike Wheeler be here, trapped in this horrible hell of a dimension with him?

Instead of scolding Will for his ridiculous hope, the boy nods enthusiastically, “Starts with an M, ends with an ‘eeler’.”

“You can’t be Mike.” Will blurts out, “Mike’s not… an adult.”

“Huh. And here I was thinking ‘this can’t be Will Byers, because Will Byers isn’t a little kid anymore’, but here you are.” Mike(?) states, eyes looking Will over as his frown grows.

“I’m not a little kid, I’m twelve.” Will huffs out immediately, eyes narrowing.

“And my Will Byers is sixteen, just like me.” Mike(?) says, running a hand through his matted hair as he sighs. He’s deep in thought about something, so Will uses the opportunity to take a better look at him.

This… weird hallucination Mike looks like he could… possibly, maybe, be an older version of Mike Wheeler, but Will’s eyes keep catching on the details.

His fluffy hair turns curly at the ends, grown long enough that it swings a bit whenever Mike shakes his head, mumbling to himself. Not for the first time, Will wonders what Mike’s hair would feel like under his fingers, curious about the texture of it.

His Mike was still there, in the curve of his nose and the dark softness of his eyes, but his face is slender, cheekbones prominent in a way Mike’s never were before, all childhood softness faded away into sharp lines that Will can’t help tracing with his eyes, following the line down Mike’s jawline to the tops of his shoulders.

He looks like a bit of a punk with his converse and torn dark wash jeans. This older Mike is composed of long lines and thin boxy shapes and Will spends more time than he should wondering how exactly he could draw the way his tangled black curls fall around his neck. 

He’s cool, Will thinks with more than a little embarrassment, but only because Will really wants to draw Mike in this outfit. Of course that’s it, he thinks to himself as he feels the back of his neck start to flush, that’s all it is. Artistic admiration.

“—wonder if this has anything to do with time being frozen here.” Mike says, apparently talking through Will's minor freakout.

Will startles, blinking to focus back on Mike, who’s staring at the walls of Castle Byers caught in his own world, already trying to solve the problem Will’s given up on understanding.

“W-what?” Will asks, having missed whatever Mike just said.

Mike turns to him, “Time works differently in the Upside Down, remember? It’s been frozen on the same date you went missing.”

“‘The Upside Down?’” Will repeats, lost.

“… The dimension we’re standing in?” Mike asks, eyes narrowing like it’s something obvious and he’s incredulous that Will doesn’t know.

Will stares back, unamused, for long enough that eventually Mike grows flustered, eyes darting around before they snap back to Will in realization.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Of course you don’t know anything about the Upside Down! You’re twelve.” Mike says it all like Will’s age would actually make an impact on the current dimension they’re standing in.

“… Why’s it upside down?” Will asks because he’s pretty sure they’re not hanging from the ceiling.

“No no, that’s— that’s just what we called it. I don’t know, we kinda guessed at the name. I don’t remember why.” Mike says, hands flying around as he shakes the thought away, “That’s not what matters right now.”

“… What does matter then? Why are you here? How are you here?” Will asks, eyes darting around looking for an escape route. It’s not that Will doesn’t believe this older Mike, but… for any Mike Wheeler to appear right after Will started thinking about how much he misses Mike…

Will didn’t know how this place (the Upside Down?) works, but he knows better than to trust such an obvious miracle.

“It’s… kind of a long story. And I’m not saying that to avoid telling you, I promise, it’s just like…” Mike sighs, running a hand through his hair, catching on a tangle he spends a moment unraveling, “I’m not sure if this is real? Or if you’re some… Will Byers-shaped hallucination.”

Mike continues, mumbling, “And it’s a shitty story anyway.”

“I thought you were the hallucination.” Will blurts out, looking away in embarrassment when he sees the look of amusement on Mike’s face.

“So it would seem that we’re in a mutual hallucination situation.” Mike says, a tiny huff of frustration escaping him, “Figures.”

“But why would I hallucinate an old Mike? Why not my Mike?” Will asks.

“No clue.” Mike says with a shrug, “Wait, how long have you been trapped here? Where I’m from, Will went missing in November 1983.”

“Whoa, me too.” Will says, eyes widening, “What about you? When are you from?”

“… January 1987.” Mike admits.

Will’s mind is whirling, confused. 1987 is… ages away, years into the future. This Mike would… would be in high school, older than Jonathan maybe.

This was impossible, and yet… Will can’t help but think through all the comic books, movies, and D&D campaigns, wondering…

“Maybe this dimension is outside of time?” Will suggests, “Like—like we both stumbled into the demiplane of time! A time nexus.”

Mike frowns, deep in thought, “I dunno, I think it’s more of an alternate mirror dimension. But it’s possible that we’re in a time nexus, I guess… I think it’s still November 6th, 1983 here.”

They’re interrupted by a low growl from nearby and Will tenses, shoving the brambles aside as he gets ready to run.

“We’ll figure it out later, but right now we need to get out of here.” Mike urges, extending his hand to Will, long pale fingers reaching out as he waits for Will to take it.

Maybe Will’s too stupid and trusting, but he doesn’t want to question this too-good-to-be-true Mike anymore.

He takes Mike’s hand, Will's small palm held securely in Mike’s larger hand, and hopes for the best.

Mike pulls Will to his feet, then doesn’t let go when Will stumbles.

Mike’s hand engulfs Will’s, long fingers curled around Will’s. His hand is warm, finger-less gloves transferring some of their heat into Will’s freezing hands. They carefully walk through the twisted version of Hawkins and it’s just as dark and cold and silent as it was before, trees and bushes rotting around them, but something about holding hands fills Will with the tiniest spark of warmth.

It feels a little bit like hope and for the first time, Will starts to believe that maybe he really will escape after all.

🝮

The walk to Will’s house is dark and cold, but Mike seems familiar enough with their surroundings. Will doesn’t have to tell him to avoid stepping on the tendrils that creep around every corner, Mike stepping over them as if he already knows to avoid them. It’s a walk Will could do blindfolded, which is good because the only light he can see by is the occasional flash of red lightning.

Leading the way, Will grips Mike’s hand in his own the entire time, afraid Mike might disappear the second Will stops touching him. Nothing more than the sad dying dream.

This taller Mike might be a hallucination, but Will’s just so thankful that he’s here now and that Will isn’t alone anymore. It’s silly but… even if Mike’s not real, at least Will can pretend he is for a little longer.

Other than the monster and the weird voices Will hears occasionally, he’s been completely alone this entire time, hiding anywhere he could find. Cowering under the bed, in the bath, in Jonathan’s closet, trying to get Jonathan’s stereo player to work, The Clash bouncing off the walls. 

The house is the safest because Will knows his house, knows all its corners, its hiding places, and most importantly, how to unfasten the windows to flee when he’s being chased by a monster.

Mike knows his house too, throwing open the door to Will’s house without hesitation. He seems confident at least, tearing his way through the Byers’ kitchen cabinets, intently searching for something. Will sits down at the table, kicking his feet anxiously as he watches Mike. Mike, whose single-minded determination makes Will feel like he can relax, just for a moment. For the first time since Will fell into this dimension, he suddenly realizes how exhausted he is, eyelids flickering closed as his head starts to dip.

But it doesn’t last for more than a moment before Will’s breath catches and turns into a violent cough he can’t hide.

Mike pauses, groaning when he can’t find what he’s looking for as he turns to Will with his brow furrowed in concern. Walking over to the table, Mike holds out his own bandana and goggles from earlier.

“What—" Will starts to ask, but Mike cuts him off.

“You need them more than I do.” Mike explains, “You’ve already been in here for a few days, right? The air gets poisonous after a while.”

That’s probably true. Will hasn’t been able to stop coughing for some reason, air getting caught in his throat and rasping around.

Mike looks down at the goggles, thumbing over a crack in the lens, dried blood flaking off the corners before he drops them on the table, “Fuck. Well, these won’t help but—"

Bending down to put himself at eye level with Will, Mike brings the bandana up to cover Will’s nose and mouth.

“—Hopefully this can block out the worst of it.” Mike states, dark brown eyes pitch black from the lack of light but still holding so much determination that it catches Will off-guard.

Mike’s fingers push Will’s hair gently out of the way as he secures the bandana with a tight knot, redoing it once, then twice to make sure it stays tied.

Will shivers a bit from the contact, embarrassment coming out in full force when he realizes just how tall Mike is, having to bend over nearly half his height to reach Will.

Mike notices, because of course he does.

“It’s pretty cold, huh?” Mike comments, shrugging off his bomber jacket. Mike’s left in a T-shirt that must have been white before but is now so filthy that Will can only see a few remaining smears of white underneath dried reddish-brown stains that are immediately concerning. Bandages peak out from the collar of his shirt, the same muddy colors leaking through dull white.

“Wait, is that blood?” Will blurts out, “Are you okay?”

Mike looks at Will like he’s insane, his usual look of annoyance evolving into a truly impressive unamused stare, lips pulled down at the corners.

“You’re seriously asking me if I’m okay?” Mike asks, shaking his head like he can’t believe Will would ever ask that, placing the jacket over Will’s shoulders.

It’s still warm from Mike’s body and Will can’t help but pull it around himself like a blanket, like he’s back in Mike’s basement on a chilly fall evening, listening to Mike weave tales of far-away lands and heroes that always captivate Will. Warm, cozy, and completely safe.

Mike’s watching him. He’s always so serious but seeing that intense searching gaze on an adult version of his best friend makes Will feel self-conscious, awkward.

“Aren’t you cold though?” Will points out the obvious, “It’s freezing here, like way worse than winter.”

“Nah, I’ve been running around for hours.” Mike says with a shrug before he moves away, going back to searching through cabinets. Will knows Mike’ll probably start shivering in a few minutes, but he also knows that stopping Mike Wheeler from trying to help when he’s being particularly stubborn is like pouring soda back into a shaken can. Not worth the effort.

“You know a lot about this place.” Will points out instead.

“I guess? This is actually my first time here… unless you count the tunnels under Hawkins…? Maybe my second time.” Mike says, mulling it over as he picks out an old towel from the cabinet.

“… There are tunnels under Hawkins?” Will asks, curiosity winning out over his shyness.

“Damnit—uh shit, I mean. Crap. I keep just saying things like you’re my Will.” Mike groans. Will tries not to grimace at the cuss words, because he still looks around to make sure there’s not an adult nearby, used to keeping watch due to his friends’ recent discovery of swear words.

“I mean, there were tunnels under Hawkins and my Will knew about them, but I don’t know if you’re the same person.” Mike explains, gesturing to Will and the house around them.

“How’s your Will different than me? Just older?” Will asks. Curiously, Mike’s pale face flushes as he turns away, busying himself with looking through the Byers’ cupboards.

“I-I mean, he’s not my Will he’s just like, you know, the Will from the same dimension as me. We’re both sixteen.” Mike says, voice muffled as he sticks his head into the nearby cupboard.

“You already mentioned that.” Will states, wondering why Mike’s being so weird.

“I don’t know, he’s taller? Older.” Mike says evasively, “Same haircut though.”

“That’s not very specific.” Will grumbles, slightly disappointed. Mike opens his mouth but before he can say anything, a distant voice floats through the air.

“—please Will are—honey can you—”

Joyce’s voice vibrates in the air for a few seconds, cutting in and out like he’s got a bad radio reception. The constant chill in the room sinks back into Will’s skin, stabbing at his heart along with his mom’s desperate pleas.

“Is that…?” Mike starts to ask, his eyes softening when he recognizes Joyce’s voice.

“My mom, yeah. I can hear her sometimes, but I don’t know how to talk back.” Will’s voice fades into a whisper, guilt overwhelming him, “I tried calling her on the phone, but it didn’t really work that well...”

Joyce cries quietly, bursts of half-heard sobs breaking through the air every few seconds that make Will flinch, fiddling with the sleeves of Mike’s jacket while he listens to his mom crying. He hates it when his mom is upset, and knowing that it’s because of him…

Will knew his mom cared about him, but the snippets of her muttering, planning, and pleading that Will catches cause all the guilt to sink within him like a stone plunging to the bottom of a lake. Will tries not to think about it, letting his quiet awe at how quickly his mom is putting things together fall into the background while he focuses on his own survival. But it’s worse when Mike stares at him like this, seeing the clear evidence of how badly Will hurt his mom.

All Will can do is signal where he is or make the lights flash wildly to warn her when the monster’s approaching, cursing the fact that he never learned Morse code when Dustin insisted they master it. The lights he can see bend and twist under his hand when he touches them, wavering like they’re not fully there but Will can still see the proper shape of them. Like Will’s constantly casting Reveal Magic, the light particles dancing around his fingertips and coalescing into the shape of lamps.

After several attempts, lamps popped up in bizarre patterns throughout the house that Will’s been trying to use to signal his mom or the other people he hears in his house sometimes. It’s the best chance they have, and Will knows his mom will think of something.

She always does, even if it takes a while.

“Hey, check out the lights.” Mike says.

Will looks up to see strings of lights slowly appear, hundreds of them hung in random patterns around the room, more lights than Will has ever seen, laced around the room like one of those fancy rich houses in Loch Nora at Christmas.

“Whoa.” Will exclaims, amazed, “We definitely don’t own that many Christmas lights…”

“Christmas lights? … Huh. Maybe this is…” Mike trails off, heading into the living room where the lights seem to shine the brightest. Will follows, seeing Mike sink down onto the old sofa with a sigh.

“Ugh, even this old sofa feels the exact same way it did when I was a kid,” Mike wonders, eyes alight with amazement, “That’s insane.”

Will sits on the cushion besides Mike, “I guess so... It’s just a sofa though.”

“… Nothing lasts forever.” Mike responds, solemn and quiet as he stares off into space. He’s too serious, sad in a way that makes Will worry.

But he also sounds ridiculous.

“I thought adults didn’t start the ‘walk up hill to school both ways in the snow’ thing until they were like, forty.” Will comments. Looks up at Mike, who’s very tall but definitely not a full adult, “You can’t be that old.”

Mike sputters, successfully knocked out of whatever weird mood he was in, turning to face Will, “I—I’m not! It’s a totally normal thought to have in this situation, with you in that-that Marty McFly outfit sitting in your old living room.”

“We’re not in my living room, we’re in the realm of shadows version of my living room,” Will points out, “Who’s Marty McFly?”

“You know, Back to the—No, you don’t know. Movie from the future. You look like the main guy.”

“What’s the movie about?” Will asks.

Mike rolls his eyes, “I’m not gonna spoil a movie from the future for you.”

It’s so Mike Wheeler, refusing to give even the smallest hint about his D&D plots even when bribed, but spilling all the important details when he gets too excited and forgets that Will's listening.

Will’s not surprised, but he has to try. Dustin would kill him if Will didn’t use this opportunity to become rich from forbidden alternate dimension knowledge, “C’mon, we’re both trapped here forever probably, who would I tell?”

Mike turns to him, horrified, “What? No, what the hell? You’re going to get out of this.”

“...How?” Will asks.

“I don’t know all the details, but from what I remember… Basically Eleven found you in the Upside Down—

“Wait, who’s Eleven?” Will interrupts, “Like the number?”

Mike winces, shuffling around the couch as he avoids Will’s questioning gaze.

“She’s a… friend.” Mike says after a long pause, “A very good friend of yours. She’s got psychic powers that help her find you.”

“… Can she cast plane shift and get us out of here?”

“She’s not a wizard, it’s different than that. In my world, there was a portal in the lab that your mom and Hopper went into. They rescued you. We—the Party—helped out, of course.”

“Of course.” Will echoes, leaning back on the couch. The lights on the walls and ceiling continue to increase, outlines of bulbs flickering with electricity.

It’s almost like camping, Will thinks. Not that he’s ever been camping. Stuck in a strange new place, watching lights sparkle in and out of existence as they move around, like what Will imagines the stars look like late at night. Mike sitting next to him, quiet for a moment as they watch the lights appear as if by magic, flickering.

The air is freezing cold and before long, Will can’t help but shiver as he pulls Mike’s jacket around him more tightly.

“... So, what do I have to do to get us rescued?” Will asks, “What did your Will do?”

“Hmm, he made contact with his mom somehow. Something to do with the lights, a thin spot in the veil…”

“Seriously?” Will groans, burying his face in his hands, “That’s way too vague, I’ve been messing with the lights for ages.”

“He’s never told me the details, never liked talking about it,” Mike says, voice soft, “But it’ll be okay.”

Will sighs into his hands, “You can’t know that.”

“You figured this out once without me, I know you can do it again,” Mike says, voice steadfast and strong as he grabs Will by the shoulder with a gentle hand to turn his body towards Mike.

Will lifts his head to see Mike looking at him, dark eyes filled with an unshakeable faith that leaves Will breathless before Mike says, “I’ll help you out the best I can, of course, but you can do this, Will.”

Oh, that’s not fair. Will thinks, feeling heat start to creep up the back of his neck, Why did Mike Wheeler have to get even more kind and heroic and not to mention his hair—

Will’s heart pounds in his chest so loudly he’s positive Mike can hear it and he wonders with a fleeting sort of horror how he’s going to be able to handle being just best friends with Mike for the rest of his life when Mike starts acting like this when he gets older.

“T-The lights,” Will stutters out, eager to change the subject. Mike, with his hand still on Will’s shoulder, looks up, only for his mouth to fall open in wonder.

The lights are indeed shining, bright for just a moment before his mom turns them off.

“Whoa…” Mike says in awe, “That looked way cooler than I thought it would. Like—like a thousand fireflies that just disappeared.”

That’s not what Will sees, the floating lights dancing in the outlines of a million Christmas lights. There’s also a… weak point, Will can see, starting to grow out of the wall in the corner.

Acting on a hunch, Will points out a trail of dangling Christmas lights hanging above their heads.

“You’re—” really really tall, Will thinks and feels his face heat up dangerously, “—uh, I mean, you can reach the lights, so can you maybe light up the ones leading to the wall and show my mom where to go?”

“The… light particles?” Mike asks, confused as he blinks at Will.

“You know— the Christmas lights?” Will tries.

Mike squints at him, standing up from the couch and walking towards the hallway as he peers around. He should have to duck under some of the dangling strands of lights but instead, Mike doesn’t seem to see them, his tall frame seeming to move through the lights like they're projected illusions or like–

“You can’t see or touch them.” Will realizes, “They’re everywhere but you can’t see them.”

“See what, Will?” Mike asks, suddenly cautious as his head swivels, glancing all around him.

“The Christmas lights and—whenever Mom moves something in the real world, it creates sort of a… a mirror image of it here.” Will says, gesturing towards the lamps in the hallway.

“I can see… trails of light? Like stars on a clear night or—or fireflies.” Mike states as he glances around, head turning back and forth, “Just like what Nancy said…”

“Nancy?” Will asks, wondering what crazy thing would push Nancy Wheeler, the most normal girl on the planet, to know about the Upside Down as he pushes himself up from the couch to get a better look.

“Ah—shit, nothing, never mind.” Mike mutters, “What do you need me to do?”

Will decides to let it go, instead choosing to explain his plan about guiding his mom towards the weak spots with the lights quickly. Mike catches on quickly, reaching an arm up and finding the lights.

“It’s warm…” Mike says quietly, in awe as his fingers drift through the dangling strands to follow the route Will’s pointed out and creating a trail of light behind him that he can’t see.

But Will can and he watches as the Christmas lights sparkle, leading towards the spot on the wall that Will thinks is thinner, a possible break-through point.

There’s a bundle of lights hiding in the cabinet, bright white and in a ball that Will can clearly make out, floating in the air. His Mom must be holding it, Will realizes, starting to hope, and for the barest flicker of a second, Will swears that he could see her.

“Will?” Joyce whispers but it’s loud and clear, ringing through the air like a bell. Will’s heart jumps with excitement, “Are you here?”

Mike watches, eyes wide as Will grabs the lights and… it’s an odd sensation, like sticking his hand into a running stream that tingles and sparks as he twists it into alignment, responding to his mom’s message by making the lights shine as brightly as he can.

Joyce’s next words cut out, disconnected syllables that Will can’t make out, but he closes his eyes, focusing on his mom and suddenly her voice rings out loud and clear.

“—you um, blink once for yes, twice for no. Can you do that for me sweetie, can you—” Will makes the light glow once brightly.

“Good—” Joyce cuts out, “Baby, I need to know… are you alive?”

Will twists that same spark in an instant, lighting up the room.

“Are you safe?” Joyce asks, worry clear in her shaking voice.

Will… doesn’t want his mom to worry more but… the lights blink twice. His mom starts crying all over again before bursting out with questions he can’t answer, rapid-fire questions between sobs that Will can’t answer, before she realizes how pointless it is.

“I need to know where to find you honey, where… where are you? Can you, can you tell me where you are? Can you please, baby?” Joyce’s desperation rings through the room.

Will flashes the lights once more, holds it for a few seconds, wondering if it feels as bright and hopeful to his mom as it does to Will. He hopes that a light shining in the darkness could mean ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m sorry’. And most importantly, he hopes that his mom understands.

“I need to find you,” Joyce’s voice cracks, “Tell me what to do… please—”

“I’m trying, Mom, I-I don’t know what to do…” Will says, his voice cracking as he looks around desperately for something, anything that can help.

But the thin spot he found is fading, and Will still hasn’t figured out how to break through it.

“—Will? Oh Will…” Joyce’s voice fades out and after waiting for a few seconds, Will realizes the moment is over.

Will starts shaking a bit, clenching his eyes tightly closed to avoid crying.

He needs to be strong—

Mike’s arm circles around Will’s shoulders in an instant, guiding Will towards the Byers’ couch. Will follows, pulling the jacket around himself more tightly as Mike holds onto him.

The Byers’ ancient couch creaks as Mike sits beside him, silent for a moment as they listen to Joyce’s crying quiet down, her whispers bouncing around the room like she’s pacing, deep in thought.

One final loud sob cuts through the air and it makes Will curl into himself tighter, pulling his legs up and wrapping the jacket around his entire body like he could use it as a shield against the entire world. His mom must be so upset and it’s all his fault…

Mike doesn’t say anything, but his arm rests on Will’s shoulder even when it takes him a few minutes to stop shaking.

Eventually, Mike breaks the silence between them, speaking over the whispers of Joyce’s panicked curses.

“I remember your mom talking to me about this now.” Mike says quietly, talking over his Joyce as the lights start to move around the room again, disappearing and reappearing in different configurations from whatever Joyce is working on now, “The lights.”

“Really?” Will asks, “So…”

“... Maybe this is the past?” Mike says, voice hesitant, “But… that doesn’t make any sense. Will never mentioned a version of me being there with him.

“I dunno,” Will says, watching the odd blur of movement, lights flashing like shooting stars against a pitch-black sky for a moment when Joyce places them in a bizarre order, a strand coming down from where it was hanging over the kitchen, “But if other dimensions and monsters are real… why not time travel?”

It’s silent for a moment, the potential of the idea washing over them both.

“But– but how… what am I supposed to–” Mike swallows as his eyebrows furrow, as he sinks into himself, shoulders rising to meet his ears as he starts to pull away and inward, eyes a million miles away.

“Mike?” Will asks, turning to face him. Mike catches his glance for an instant and immediately looks away, taking a deep breath to collect himself.

Will realizes that this older Mike is almost the same as his Mike, kind, caring to the point of forgetting to take care of himself, and annoyingly stubborn.

And yet… This Mike is super tall, handsome in a grown-up way that Will doesn’t know how to put into words fully, but even more awkward than his Mike, like he hasn’t interacted with other kids entirely in a while (Maybe that’s just what happens when you go to high school, you get all weird).

But, and Will realizes that this is a key difference, this Mike is… sad, a deep tired exhaustion lining his eyes like the face Will’s mom wears sometimes when she thinks Will can’t see it. Mike’s doing the same thing, trying to push it down like he doesn’t want Will to see him being sad because he thinks Will’s a kid.

Like Will wouldn’t recognize Mike Wheeler pretending to be okay. He’s older, yeah, but Mike’s always been soft, more vulnerable to the words the other kids threw at them even if he never let anyone, Will included, see him when he was really hurt anymore.

“Hey Mike, are you…” Will pauses, not quite sure how to ask, “Good?”

“... Of course.” Mike says after a moment, giving Will a shaky smile, “What about you? Feeling alright?”

Will’s chest is burning and he feels the beginning of a fever coming on, and he doesn’t want to think about the guilt that squirms in his stomach from making his mom cry, but that’s not really important right now.

“As alright as I can be.” Will says, “You just seem… uh.” Mike curls his head to the side curiously.

“Seem what?”

“Sad? Tired? I don’t know.” Will tries and it makes Mike’s smile turn down at the edges, fading a bit.

“Why are you always so worried about other people? Seriously, you shouldn’t have to worry about me, Will.” Mike says softly, trying to be comforting, but Will… Will doesn’t know how to explain that he wants to worry about Mike. Wants to know what’s bothering him and even if this Mike is so much older than him, Will still wants Mike to trust him.

“I want to.” Will says simply, honestly, before moving onto the argument that always works on Mike, “Well, not worry. But… you know, it’s not fair if you’re the only one. Worrying.”

“Huh.” Mike says, blinking at him for a second before he smiles apologetically, his sense of fairness as strong as ever, “Sorry, I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“So uh, how are you doing? I won’t be mad if you’re not okay.” Will tries again, quick to reassure before Mike can say anything. 

This time, Mike’s smile fades into a grimace, looking away from Will with a rough exhale that punches its way out of him.

“Honestly? This whole situation is a nightmare.” Mike says quietly, then pauses like he’s afraid someone could possibly hear him, looking around for a few seconds.

But there’s no monster here right now. Just them.

“I… things went really badly. It wasn’t just me, fighting– well, a bad guy. It was all of us, the Party, our families… You.” Mike says as he checks Will over, almost as if confirming that Will’s still there while Mike speaks, “Vecna grabbed you and I–I barely managed to grab you before– I don’t know, it’s like everything shifted or something.”

“I don’t…” Mike trails off with a frustrated sigh, “I don’t know what went wrong.”

Mike’s gaze is on the Byers’ wall, watching another strand of lights appear one-by-one. Joyce’s voice rings out, a sharp “Damnit,” breaking through the air from where she must have made a mistake in whatever she was setting up. Then, just as they appeared, the lights disappear, blinking out of existence entirely one-by-one.

“… You’re worried about everyone.” Will says after a long pause.

“You got it.” Mike agrees, leaning further into the couch with a sigh, head resting on top of it as they both continue to watch the impromptu light show at the end of the world, being shuffled and moved around almost as if by magic.

Will wonders yet again if this is all a dream he’s having. If he really did die when the monster nearly grabbed him the first time. It makes more sense than alternate dimensions or–or time travel or whatever. Fantasy things didn’t happen in real life. It was more likely that he’d been hit by a car or something, left to die on the side of the road while he dreamed up—

Maybe this Mike was his exhausted mind’s final gift, a glimpse of an alternate future Will would never be allowed to see. Like Will ran out of time to finish the book of Mike Wheeler, so he skipped ahead five or six chapters. Will missed some of the story but the ending was still the same, Mike still sitting beside him, their knees knocking against each other as Will struggles to find the words he wants to tell him.

“Well… I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure your friends are okay. Maybe we can find out what happened to them. Like, if you were all here, then they can’t be too far away, right?” Will says, not fully believing his own words.

Mike turns his head to look at Will, shifting his weight on the couch as he stands up, moving away from the couch to pace around the living room instead of responding.

“No, no, it doesn’t make any sense—Whoa.” Mike stops dead in his tracks, eyes widening when he sees the wall behind Will.

When Will follows Mike’s eyes, he realizes what his mom has been up to:

An entire grid of letters above the lights shines, the black paint still wet and glistening.

“Whoa, that’s… incredible.” Will says pointing at the letters, “Holy crap, I can’t believe she painted the walls. That’ll take forever to clean.”

Mike squints at him, looking between the wall and Will, “What are you talking about? It’s just a bunch of lights…”

“You can’t see that either?” Will asks, confused, “Mom painted the whole alphabet on the wall. The lights match the letters so now we can talk to her.”

Mike seems to come to a realization, looking impressed, “So this is why Ms. Byers messed up her house. That’s… brilliant. That’s so brilliant,” Mike admits, excited smile starting to break through on his face, “Now we can actually talk to her.”

 “—you hear me? Sweetie?” Joyce’s voice comes through, trying to sound calm but Will can hear how scared she is.

“Will, Will, Will I’m here.” Joyce says and Will knows she is, knows his mom’s fighting just as hard as Will is, so he climbs up and balances on the back of the couch, careful not to lose his footing.

Mike’s at his side anyway, placing a steadying hand on his back.

“Okay, baby talk to me, talk to me. Where are you?” Joyce asks.

R

“Good, good, good, that’s good, come on come on…” Joyce’s encouragement echoing around the room makes Will feel warm, even if he can’t see his mom anywhere.

“Give me a boost.” Will says gesturing at Mike, who kneels down, threading his hands together and using it to push Will high enough to reach the top row of letters.

Will’s moves quickly, making the lights flash as he stands on the couch, moving his hand to slap at floating particles as quickly as he can.

I G H T

H E R E

Will breathes heavily for a moment, keeping his balance on the couch and waiting to hear if his mom understood the message.

“Right here…? I-I- I don’t know what that means. I need you to tell me what to do. What should I do? How do I get to you? How-how do I find you? What should I do?” Even when Will can’t really see her, he knows his mom must be shaking with nerves.

Will turns towards Mike, wobbling on the couch for a second before Mike steadies him, “What- what should I tell her?”

Mike opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Will’s hand shoots out to stop him.

The monster’s almost here, Will knows with more certainty than he’s known anything else as he stares at Mike.

Mike can’t seem to sense it at all, but squints at Will for a second and before Will says a word, Mike’s eyes shoot wide and then he’s helping Will off the couch.

“It’s coming—” Will starts to say the second his feet hit the ground, but Mike’s already picking up his things and pushing Will towards the door with the flat of his palm on his back, insistent.

“We’re going.”

“No, wait—wait a second.”

Will doesn’t know what else to say when he feels it, the tingling feeling shooting up his spine directly behind him. Will turns towards the opposite wall and sees it.

“We can come back later, but we have to go now—”

“Wait, wait Mike, there’s- there’s a tear—" Will says, pulling on the bottom of Mike’s shirt to get his attention as he points at the thin gap starting to appear between the swirls of his old wallpaper.

It’s small, but it’s growing and there’s a long pause, the entire world stopping for a moment while Will thinks, watching the blurry figure of his mom pace back and forth with her head in her hands.

The monster’s coming closer, but it pauses. Almost like it’s waiting for something.

And Will’s so tired of trying to figure it all out, the monster, this stupid dimension, time travel, all of it. It’s like he never has enough time to stop and think anything through.

“Will, c’mon, we need to go!”

All Will knows is that he wants to go home so bad. So badly that his thoughts shift around and the world in front of him seems to blur wildly for a second. His head pounds with pain, so much it blocks out the exhaustion, the fear, the hunger so much that it’s all he can feel, closing his eyes against the world that’s blurring so much around him it makes him dizzy.

Then suddenly Will’s eyes shoot open, and he sees it, the gap on the wall growing larger and larger like an ink blot on paper, a dark wall he can just barely see into.

Will jumps off the couch and starts banging on the wall, fists pounding into it as he tries to break through.

“MOM, please, please listen to me.”

“Wi— what—” Mike starts to say, before he must see the same thing Will does, “Oh my god, is that—”

“Mom, I’m here!! We’re both here, please.” Will’s pleading and he sees the wallpaper start to peel back.

For a split second, Will sees his mom, washed out by the blurry red wall but she immediately starts crying,

“Will?!? Will, Will, honey, are you okay? What do I do, what—”

“Break the wall, mom, please!” Will begs and he looks desperately at Mike, who looks around wildly before he joins Will in trying to break the wall down, tearing at the wooden walls with his hands.

They can all hear the roar this time, the monster growing closer and closer.

But wall, membrane, whatever it is, is sturdy, way too sturdy for the two of them to break as it starts to shrink.

“Ms. Byers, can you find Mike Wheeler? He’s—he’s got a girl with him, she can find us!” Mike insists, “Find Mike Wheeler! Go talk to him!”

There’s a growl and the matching squirming up his spine feeling that Will’s trained to look out for and Will whirls around, hears the wall nearby start to bend.

“Mike, we-we have to go, the monster’s—”

The lights behind them flash in a pattern, untouched by either of them.

F

O

U

N

D

Y

O

U

The monster crashes through the front wall, opening its mouth and roars, a screeching horrifying sound that roots Will to the floor.

“Go, get out of here!” Mike yells, shoving Will behind him and down the hallway towards the door before Mike whirls around, pulling something out of his pocket. Will stumbles but listens, running to the door.

There isn’t room for thought in his brain, pure fear powering him as he runs through the woods. Will looks back and sees Mike following him into the woods.

Will sees Mike duck behind a tree nearby, hiding. Their eyes meet and for a second, Will’s back on a hot slow summer evening, playing manhunt with his friends.

When the two of them would hide in the same grove of trees, Will catching Mike’s eye with a silent smile, rolling his eyes as he tried not to giggle at Dustin and Lucas.

Will would see Mike, giving him a playful smirk, so proud of how well they’d hidden.

But now, Mike’s holding a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his heavy breathing and his eyes are blown wide with fear.

Will slows his breathing as well, chest heaving silently as he hears more than sees the monster lurking between trees, head raised as if scenting the air. Hunting for them.

Will can feel the monster’s intent, has always known that the monster isn’t trying to kill him. But it does want to kill Mike, violently hates Mike so much that it hurts Will to even feel that hatred. The monster wants to tear Mike apart, limb-by-limb, piece-by-piece and Will feels it like a phantom, skittering up his spine and putting pressure on his skull.

The monster is going to hunt down Mike Wheeler and kill him.

Will can’t let that happen.

As he breathes in deep, Will realizes he’s already made his decision. It was the same decision he always made, and besides, Mike never won a single game of hide-and-seek.

But Will Byers never lost.

Before Will can think about how stupid it is, Will throws himself out from cover in the direct path of the monster.

“O-over here!” Will yells, trying to keep his trembling under control. 

The monster immediately turns toward him, its head unwinding like a bear trap with rows and rows of teeth, almost like it's sensing Will, getting excited. It turns, moving away from the tree Mike’s hiding behind and in Will’s direction.

Will doesn’t waste another second; he runs.

Will hears Mike scream his name, voice breaking from desperation.

But Will knows he can run fast enough, create a distraction and then hide himself again without getting caught. It might be the only way he can save Mike.

So he runs.

And the monster, as always, follows.

⧖

Chapter Text

🝰 

“That was Mike, my Mike.” Will repeats, stunned.

How could Mike, sixteen-year-old Mike, get thrown into the past and the Upside Down?

Everything around Will blurs. He barely recognizes the small hands grabbing at his arm to pull him out of the smoking AV room. Will’s mind races, thinking about Mike trapped in the Upside Down, running and hiding and crying in the dark—

“—Will, hey.” Mike’s talking, staring up at Will, worry clear in his eyes as Mike shares Will by his arm.

Looking at the twelve-year-old version of Mike, a kid in a thin navy jacket whose sleeves are starting to fray at the ends, Will can’t help but wonder how Mike managed to accomplish the impossible at age 12, saving Will, El, and everyone amidst all the supernatural horror that no one understood. All the while panicking about his best friend, trapped and slowly dying.

It’s a bizarre puzzle, an inverted view into what Mike must have experienced when they were younger, Will realizes. The worry gnaws at him, even knowing that he managed to escape when he was twelve… Will knew that it was an impossible miracle, and even though most of his time in the Upside Down felt like paint spilled down and muddying everything that came before it into a mess of colors and feeling, he remembers the most excruciatingly painful moments in explicit detail.

The thought of Mike having to go through that…

“We have to help them.” Will says.

The sun beats down on them, warming Will even as the cool November wind blows through him, the fire alarm shrieking in the distance as they stand outside the school. Will’s collection of twelve-year-olds stand in a circle around him, staring at Will with concern.

Dustin keeps nervously looking over his shoulder towards the school.

“Was that really Will? And…” Mike trails off.

“Mike from the future?!” Dustin says, in what’s clearly meant to be a whisper but is far too excited to actually be quiet as he nervously looks over his shoulder towards the school.

Lucas narrows his eyes as he picks his bike off the ground, where it had fallen over when he dropped it in earlier haste, “…Are you sure?”

Will pauses, coming to a realization instantly that makes his stomach sink with embarrassment. Because Will would recognize Mike Wheeler’s voice anywhere, even if it was five words crackling over an unstable connection from another dimension.

“Positive.” Will says, “He’s… well, we were working together before. I don’t know why he was repeating his own name, but… it’s gotta be him.”

Dustin groans, placing his hand on Mike’s shoulder as he leans his weight onto the smaller Mike, who stumbles, surprised, and nearly drops his own bike to the ground.

Mike glares at Dustin, slapping his hand away, “Quit it.”

“How come you and Will get to time travel but we haven’t met our future time traveling badass selves?” Dustin groans, ignoring Mike.

“…Because Mike tried to save me.” Will says in a soft tone, as he grasps onto the edges of a memory so vague, he’s not quite sure it’s real.

Something had happened, all of the Party working together to stop—something. The more he tries to grab onto it, the more it slips through his fingers, a frustrating gap of memories that Will can’t stop picking at. Mike, reaching his hand out to grab onto Will at the last possible second, screaming his name because Mike was the only one who saw what was going on when–

The VHS tape of his memory stutters and stops like someone cut it, the footage lost forever.

“Tried to save you from what?” Mike asks, staring up at Will.

“I can’t… remember.” Will says, frustration rising when all he can see is the fear in Mike’s eyes, “But I think it was bad. Really bad.”

“Monster?” Eleven asks, voice soft.

Will tries to remember anything else, but all that comes to mind is the red heat of anger rising so intensely that it blocked out everything, his vision, his sense of self, everything. Fear morphing into pure rage before it all cuts away into nothingness.

“It was… worse. It was definitely worse than a Demogorgon.” Will says. That at least, he knows is true.

Eleven frowns, blinking rapidly like she’s trying to think it all through.

“So, should we still… try to contact Will?” Dustin asks, then sighs, “The younger one, obviously, not the time-traveling one.”

Will might not remember how he got here, but he vividly and physically remembers this entire week like it’s been carved into his entire being, Will Byers forever containing the story of what happened to him.

“No, if Mike’s with my younger self… then they probably know how to get out of there, but…” Will says, brain whirling through plans and possibilities.

If Mike is in the Upside Down then… He’s in just as much danger, no, even more than Will at age twelve had ever been.

Some parts of the Upside Down are clear as day in Will’s mind, frozen in amber and flashes in his subconscious. But others are terrifying blurs, smudges and smears of dark paint that destroy any clear recollection. The basic gist of it was simple: Will hid until the monster found him, then Will ran until he found another hiding spot, begging for a way out all the while. Communicating with his mom once or twice or—he’s not sure how many times, just that Will would have done anything to have his mom hold him and tell him that everything would be alright.

Not that he feels much different now, Will acknowledges, wishing more than anything that his mom could give him some advice and a strong hug.

Will hates this. It’s so difficult trying to figure this stuff out on his own, so used to his mom, Mike, or the rest of the Party being around to plan.

A traitorous thought twinges, Will internally bemoaning the fact that Mike isn’t here to talk through these things.

Mike always has a way of putting Will’s knowledge and weirdness into a coherent plan and knowing that his Mike is here, trapped in the Upside Down like Will had once been makes his heart clench with worry, terrified that Mike won’t make it out. So many people died when Will got stuck their originally but now it would be even worse because– because—

Will groans when he hits that spot in his memory that feels like it’s been deliberately removed, completely cut-off from him.

“But…?” Lucas asks after a minute of silence ticks by. Will blinks and sees the kids standing around him, lost and looking up to him. Four pairs of eyes staring up at Will like he alone possesses the answers to all the problems in the entire world.

They’re all so small, Will realizes with a fear-tinged wonder, wondering if he’d ever actually been as young as this little fluffy-haired Mike Wheeler that stares up at him, his dark eyes that deep brown that’s only ever visible in the sunlight. Will loses himself for a moment, overwhelmed.

How was he supposed to do this?

Mike blinks, head tilting in a silent question, movement so familiar that Will recognizes it before Mike says anything.

“You okay?” Mike asks.

Will isn’t, can’t stop worrying about everything and feeling like he’s completely out of his depth here, but… All these kids need him. Mike needs him.

“We need to find Hopper.” Will says slowly, thinking it through, “Or my mom.”

“What, why?” Lucas asks, taken aback, “How’re they supposed to help?”

“Hopper told us not to help at all,” Dustin points out, “If he tells our parents, they’re gonna murder us. Grounded for life.”

Will rolls his eyes, losing his patience with his friends for a moment, “None of that matters right now. Besides, I don’t think any of you got in trouble except for—”

Mike Wheeler, age 12, absolutely was grounded for telling government officials to fuck off when they questioned him about hiding a girl in his basement.

And now, the way Mike Wheeler, still age 12 but a week earlier in time, almost physically attacked their middle school bullies indicates to Will that Mike would do it all again in heartbeat.

“—It doesn’t matter, you guys will all be fine.” Will finishes, lying in a way he knew Mike would forgive him for.

“Will is in danger,” Mike snaps, annoyance clear in his voice as he squints at Dustin, “It doesn’t matter if we get grounded, or whatever.”

“Mike—” Lucas starts to say, but Mike shakes his head, raising a hand to stop Lucas.

“Why do we need to find your mom and Hopper?” Mike asks, looking up to meet Will’s eyes.

“The two of them were able to gain access to the Upside Down somehow. They rescued me.” Will says, knowing this factually even if he can’t recall it, “But I don’t know how they did it because the entrance is…”

It suddenly comes crashing together, different facts coalescing into a shape he recognizes.

Will crouches down, putting himself on eye level with El. El, who keeps pulling at the beanie on her head like she can’t figure out how she wants it to lie, blinks at him, waiting for him to speak.

Taking a deep breath, Will asks, “Hey El, why… Why did you choose to escape now?”

El flinches, then shakes her head, pulling the beanie down to cover her eyes as she refuses to answer.

“No no, it’s okay. It’s okay, I promise. I won’t get mad; I just want to make sure I know what happened so we can save the other Will. And my friend.” Will says, hoping he sounds reassuring.

El grabs onto his left arm with one hand, griping tightly, but doesn’t say anything.

“You—" Mike starts, anger clear in his eyes. Will puts his hand up, stopping Mike in his tracks before he can really get going.

Will begins to wonder how the hell Mike and Eleven ever got together in the first place if this was how Mike acted the entire time.

“It’s alright,” Will reassures them both, “I have a pretty good guess. So, if El doesn’t want to tell us, she doesn’t have to.”

El looks up at Will with wide eyes, shocked.

“You don’t have to tell anyone anything if you don’t want to, okay? Never ever.” Will insists, hoping she understands. Every time El seems astounded by Will treating her like a person, it makes Will want to cry.

El’s wide eyes start shining, wet, almost as if reading his thoughts, but she simply nods and tightens her grip on the sleeve of Will’s stolen jacket.

“Never ever…” She repeats in a whisper then takes a deep breath, seeming to gather her courage.

“A door.” El blurts out, “I opened the door.”

“In the lab?” Will asks, quietly, ignoring the odd looks he gets from Dustin and Lucas.

El nods, confirming Will’s shaky memories: The only way in or out of the Upside Down is through the Hawkins National Laboratory.

“Then we need to find Hopper for sure,” Will says, before sighing when he realizes the immediate problem, “Not that I can go anywhere near the police right now…”

“I can find him!” Dustin exclaims, his hand shooting up with excitement like he wants a teacher to call on him, “My mom took me to the police station once when Mews went missing and we had to report it.”

Will, who hasn’t thought about Dustin’s old cat in years, doesn’t quite manage to suppress his wince at hearing that name.

“What, what’s wrong with Mews?” Dustin asks, voice raising in worry as his hand falls back to his side, “What happens to Mews, Will?”

“Uh… sorry, future spoilers.” Will says as he turns his head away, trying to push down the guilt at the fact that he’s the reason Dustin’s cat got eaten.

“My cat is a future spoiler?! What the hell man?” Dustin asks, horrified, “Does she die? Does she get superpowers? Will, Will, Will, you have to tell me.”

“Cats can’t get superpowers, Dustin, come on. Be serious.” Lucas says, slapping Dustin’s arm with the back of his hand.

“Catwoman. Black Panther. Hellcat. Black Cat. Kitty Pryde–” Dustin starts counting off on his fingers.

“Those are people, not cats!” Lucas says, rolling his eyes.

“It still counts, there’s a precedent for cats and superheroes! A strong correl-a-shion!” Dustin finishes off with a funny accent.

Will can’t tell if Dustin’s doing it on purpose or if he can’t remember the word.

“Guys, seriously,” Mike states firmly, planting one foot on the ground and bringing himself to his full, short, height, “None of that matters right now. We need to figure out how to get to our Will.”

“Well, I can’t go to the police station to find Hopper.” Will says, “So I think we might need to split up.”

Mike immediately shakes his head, hair flying from the strength of his denial, “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I won't be alone, El’ll stick with me.” Will reminds him, “She can’t go to the police either.”

For some reason, that makes Mike even angrier and he just huffs, ignoring Will’s comment entirely.

Ignoring Mike’s antics with a roll of his eyes, Lucas says, “I think Will from the future and his superpowered sister will be fine, Mike, but whatever. Dustin and I can go by the police station. We’ll meet up at Mike’s place after.”

“Where are you guys gonna go?” Dustin asks, as Lucas holds out his bike for Will to take.

“I think I’ll stop by my old house,” Will says thinking aloud as he takes Lucas’ bike and starts adjusting the seat to match his height, “Mom and Hopper teamed up at some point, so maybe he’s with her?”

“Your ‘old’ house…?” Dustin asks, picking up on that detail in an instant.

 Will groans, kicking himself for letting yet another thing slip.

“Listen okay, this future secret stuff is really difficult.” Will complains.

“Nah dude, you’re just a terrible liar.” Lucas says with a laugh then turns to Dustin, “I think we can head out now, Will’ll be fine.”

“Alright Sinclair, Onwards! Let’s find us a police chief!” Dustin proclaims, getting on his bike and gesturing for Lucas, who jumps on the back of it, grabbing onto Dustin’s shoulders as Dustin kicks the kickstand up and takes off.

Will watches the two pedal away, wondering if they’ll actually manage to find Hopper.

Is it even possible to change the past? Can they get his younger self and Mike out of the Upside Down before the Demogorgon caught them, infesting his younger self and ripping away any remaining illusion that Will had about living a somewhat normal life?

It makes Will sick to his stomach when he thinks about it, having long since accepted that the Upside Down is an inevitable part of his life, but if given the chance to change it all…

A firetruck pulls up, siren blasting through their surroundings.

“We should get out of here too. They’ll start hunting down the reason for the fire soon enough.” Will says.

“They’re really strict about people pulling the fire alarm.” Mike says with a frown like he’s imparting a truly important fact.

Will barely resists smiling, kind of wishes he could take a photo of this serious tiny Mike Wheeler standing next to an equally serious and dour Eleven before he jumps on Lucas’ bike, too small but working well enough for his needs.

✕

Will bikes through Hawkins, the last few remaining pumpkins from Halloween doting the streets, with several starting to collapse inward on themselves, the burnt orange rotting into the barren month of November.

Eleven’s hands are clenched on his shoulders, white-knuckled as she stares around with wonder at the boring suburban streets, Mike pedaling beside them.

It’s a bit nostalgic, honestly. Something Will didn’t forget, but hadn’t thought about in ages, banned from riding his bike anywhere after November 6th. Will forgot the way Mike always kept his bike on the side closer to traffic, ready to intercept any oncoming cars, staying just a few inches ahead to lead the way. It’s a memory that fell through the cracks, one Will is surprised to rediscover.

They both fall back into a rhythm so naturally even with Will being so much older, only recognizing it when they take that final sharp turn by the old Brownings house, heading down the road towards his old house.

A pile of orange-and-brown leaves go flying around them when they cut the curb, rolling their bikes to a stop in front of a house Will’s only seen in old bleached out photographs for the past few years. The Byers’ house looks smaller than Will remembers it, like it's slumping under the weight of all the things it bore witness to.

Will skids to a stop, parking his bike as he holds his hand out to Eleven to help her steady herself as she gets off the bike and Will sets it down in the grass.

The yard remains an unkempt mess while his mom’s ancient car, paint peeling on the sides, sits on the driveway, another beaten up black car beside it that Will fails to recognize.

“Did the monster attack?!” Mike asks frantically, jumping off his bike and throwing it to the ground before looking back at Will, “Is your mom okay?”

Will’s about to ask what he means when he notices the gaping hole in the front wall of the house, a tarp hastily hung in the living room to block it from the sun that moves with the chilling breeze.

“I– what? I don’t know,” Will says slowly, “There wasn’t a hole in the wall when I got out.”

Will hears Mike let out a huff of breath, face scrunched up in confusion for a few seconds before he looks up at Will, who waits for Mike to think things through.

“So, what’s the plan?” Mike asks, surprising Will for a second, a blunt reminder that Will is the one leading the charge for once.

The full reality of his current situation slams into Will as he stares at his childhood home, creaking on his foundation.

Will doesn’t think he’s necessarily bad at coming up with plans, even believes that their current course of action is probably his best bet at getting Mike and his younger self out of the Upside Down but…

Facing a younger version of his mother who hadn’t been there through it all, all the supernatural things that seemed more fiction than real, that would strike any normal person as batshit insane…

And, Will's stomach squirming with guilt, the thought of having to pull his mom into it all over again, the guilt of forcing Joyce Byers to deal with the pain of losing people over and over again…

“Will?” El whispers, tugging on Will’s sleeve.

“I think… we need to explain everything to my mom.” Will admits, sighing as he does so, “Time travel, alternate dimensions, all that stuff, but that’s…”

“It’s all nuts. And it’s not like she wouldn’t believe me, probably, but…”

Mike hmms, nodding his head, his hand fiddling with the cuffs of his worn blue sweater, pulling at a thread while he thinks.

“…What if I talk to her first?” Mike suggests, “Your mom is nice, she’ll probably listen if I tell her I know about where Will is. Then after that, I’ll introduce you and you’ll use a time travel password.”

“Password?” El asks, tilting her head to the side.

Will doesn’t know either.

“Like a shared memory?” Will ventures a guess.

“Yeah, like something only the two of you would know, remember? A time travel password.” Mike finishes for him, nodding, “You’ve gotta have something.”

“I mean, I think she’ll believe me without having to list a bunch of shared memories…” Will admits, remembering his mom’s steadfast intense, sometimes smothering, devotion to his safety, but…

“…Probably.”

Time travel might be more of a stretch than alternate dimension monsters, but Will knows that after a lot of conversations, diagrams, and explanations, his mom will believe him.

“Okay.” Mike says, trusting him completely in the way that he always has, making Will feel warm even in the autumn chill with the knowledge that Mike’s on his side, regardless of age, no matter what happens.

Even if this Mike isn’t exactly his Mike, Will remembers with a hint of amusement when Mike takes a bold step forward, only to almost trip over the bike he’d thrown on the ground.

Stumbling to the side before catching himself, Mike glances back up at Will with a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks, before running ahead to the Byers’ door.

“Let’s do this.” Will says, offering his hand to El, who grabs it tight.

Mike knocks.

 They don’t have to wait; the door is thrown open in an instant.

“Hopper, is that—!” Joyce exclaims urgently, before the light of hope in her eyes dims into dull exhaustion when she sees Mike.

“Mike? What’re you… doing here?” Joyce asks, a cigarette shaking in her hand as she glances around with wild eyes, red and puffy from crying.

Will’s mom is barely holding it together, looking more disheveled than Will has ever seen her. There’s dirt and chips of paint in her hair, and the bags under her eyes are deeper and darker than they were back when Lonnie left.

Joyce is obviously exhausted, trembling as she takes another drag of her cigarette.

“I need to talk to you.” Mike proclaims, pulling his shoulders back to make himself seem taller.

“I-I need to talk to you too, even if—.” Joyce sighs, taking a long drag of her cigarette in a way she never does around Will, a long unhurried pull from the filter, “That– earlier, was that… real?”

“What?” Mike asks.

“That whole thing, in the wall—someone kept yelling at me to find… Mike Wheeler, I-I think,” Joyce drags a trembling hand through her messy hair, pushing it out of her face and only managing to make it frizz up more, “Something about a, I don’t know, that you knew a… girl…”

Joyce’s eyes finally look up from Mike to see Will, El clinging to his sleeve as they stand behind one of the pillars on the front porch, “Who—”

Will shifts away from her searching gaze, speechless for a second while the guilt of how blatantly obviously his disappearance affected his mom stares him in the face, overwhelming him with shock.

It’s not that Will’s never wonder about the time he’d gone missing, how it must have affected the people in his life, but it keeps catching him off-guard. How strongly the people in his life cared about him, worried sick over little Will Byers being gone and working themselves to the bone to find him.

All the while, Will remembers being convinced that he was going to die.

“I-Uh-You—” Will tries to speak, he really does, but his mind goes blank.

Joyce remains equally speechless, her face scrunched up in a slow, searching confusion as she looks him over.

El grabs onto Will’s wrist, squeezing it in wordless alarm and pulling Will back into the present.

“I’m, uh, s-sorry to bother you, but we really need to talk to you about your son—” Will starts to explain, but there’s a clatter and a groan from within the house

“Joyce, what in the hell is taking so long?” An irritated voice Will hasn’t heard in years rings out, freezing Will to the spot.

Here’s the thing: Will never thinks about Lonnie. Will locked all those memories up tight in some box that he’s shoved deep deep down, far back beyond any of his other memories. And it had been easy, so so easy to ignore it, because there’s always something else to focus on. Some world-ending threat that feels so much bigger, so much more immediate and important than the fact that little Will Byers’ dad walked out on him.

The Mindflayer targeted his worst and earliest memories first, after all, eating away at his trauma from the Upside Down like it was a feast, tearing it out and away from Will as if to say “See, we’re on the same side here? Isn’t it nice to be a part of us?”

Most of the worst parts of his father are distant and blurry, never fully restored anyways, his mind after the Mindflayer filled with holes, a sieve through which most of his childhood poured out and away, gone forever.

But now, Lonnie stands there, towering over his mother in the shadow of their doorway.

Joyce flinches away from him, moving out of the doorway to put space between them and blessedly blocking Will and El from his view.

“It’s one of Will’s friends, Lonnie.” Joyce explains, patience stretched thin between the lines on her forehead.

Lonnie looks Mike over with a demeaning scowl.

Even from where Will’s frozen, he sees how Mike doesn’t flinch, holding his ground and likely glaring back.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But we don’t have time to be entertaining kids right now. There’s a funeral to handle, remember?” Lonnie says, his voice a pale imitation of kindness that sets off well-worn alarm in Will’s brain before his voice softens even further, “Will’s funeral, Joyce.”

Joyce visibly crumbles under the reminder, letting out a shaky breath.

Will can’t move either, doesn’t know what to do, and El’s hand clenches onto his wrist so tightly it almost hurts.

“I need to talk to Ms. Byers.” Mike demands, shattering the tense silence.

“Now isn’t the time, kid.” Lonnie says, annoyance starting to seep in through the tense wrinkles around his eyes, a warning sign that Will still remembers, a map of moods Will memorized once for survival.

“Actually, I need to talk to him for a minute, okay? You– you’re not quite finished fixing up the wall, right? S-so let me talk to him, then I’ll send him home. I will. It’ll be faster this way.” Joyce says, equally skilled in navigating Lonnie.

“Fine, fine… don’t let these kids stress you out too much, alright? I’m worried about you.” Lonnie says, voice soft and pleading as he places a hand on her shoulder.

Joyce nods tiredly, moving away from Lonnie and out onto the porch.

Mike glares until the door shuts.

“Why is he here?!” Mike whispers furiously. Will’s mind reels, stuck, as he tries to think of what to say.

Joyce sighs.

“There’s—you know, a funeral tomorrow. For…” Joyce’s voice breaks off, eyes watering as she stares out into the distance past Mike.

“But Ms. Byers, Will’s not dead!” Mike insists, “He’s—we heard him on the radio earlier, yelling for you! And I can prove—”

“Mike, I-I’m not sure what I saw earlier, b-but…” Joyce’s voice trembles.

For one awful moment Will realizes that his mom, at this moment in time, believes that her son is dead.

“Ms. Byers, please listen to me. Please.” Mike pleads, looking up into Joyce’s eyes, “I know it sounds crazy but Will’s alive. I know he is ‘cause this is–uh—” Mike stumbles, pointing to El and Will instead, “—they showed me.”

“He’s alive, just trapped,” Mike continues, “And he needs our help—"

“And how would you two know where Will is?” Joyce interrupts, disbelief clear in her questioning tone, but she lifts her head and finally meets Will’s eyes for the first time, blinking rapidly.

“You look… familiar.” Joyce remarks, leaning closer before her eyes shooting open in terrified shock, “Wait, wait, wait.”

Joyce steps closer, peering up at Will, looking him over with a terrifying intensity, her searching gaze catching on details that Will himself wouldn’t know to look for. Will knows she’s searching for him even in the face of someone so much older than her son, so desperate to find him anywhere. Will doesn’t know what to say, just waits for his mom to find him.

And she does. She always does.

“W-Will? Is that…?” Joyce gasps after a moment, choking around the words as her cigarette slips from her trembling fingers, smoke swirling down onto the wooden boards of the porch.

“N-not… exactly.” Will manages to say around the lump in his throat.

Joyce’s eyes furrow in confusion as she waits for him to continue. Will opens and closes his mouth a few times, swallows deeply, and then looks between Mike and El.

“I—well, it’s—uh—"

“He’s Will from the future. Time travel.” Mike explains, a wild and unbelievable truth stated simply when it becomes clear that Will’s too busy trying not to cry.

“What?” Joyce asks, voice going high with panic, her head jerking back and forth between Mike and Will, “What, what does that even mean?”

“Look Mom–” Will says, causing Joyce to gasp as the tears gathering in her eyes start to fall.

“Mom–” Will chokes out, a confirmation, barely holding back his own tears “We need to help Will. The twelve-year-old one, your son, he needs our help.”

“You-you know where he is? He’s alive?” Joyce whispers, voice breaking as she raises a hand in Will’s direction, like she wants to confirm his existence.

“Yes, yes I promise. We need to-to get in contact with Hopper and then he can help us get there—”

Joyce cracks, sobbing, and Will can’t resist it any longer. He pulls his mom into a hug, one she doesn’t hesitate to return, throwing her arms fully around him to squeeze him tight.

Will still can’t believe that he’s so much taller than her now, his mom fitting right into his arms but still hugging him with a strength that’s all her own.

They stay like that for a long moment, unmoving while Will tries to pour all the gratitude and regret he feels for making his mom go through this because of him. It’s childish, but it seems like Joyce is on a similar wavelength, probably wanting to hug Will desperately over the past few days.

When they break apart, Joyce is still crying, tears tracking down her face and making her red eyes even redder.

“I’m so sorry, mom,” Will apologizes, “I didn’t mean to make you go through this, I promise, it—”

“Stop—stop right there, no apologizing.” Joyce demands with a strength that’s surprising, her whole body still shaking as she continues crying.

“Sorry.” Will says anyway, wincing when he does.

“How—what is going on?” Joyce begs, holding onto Will’s shoulders as she looks between him and Mike.

Will takes a deep breath, thinks about his Mike and everyone who cares about this Will, and manages to say, “I’m from the future mom. It’s… stupid, complicated, and I’m not sure how it happened. But I’m here now, and-and I know how to get Will back because I went through the same thing, so… I-I know how to find him.”

Joyce’s eyes don’t leave Will, looking him over as she processes this.

“I don’t… really get it, but… if you’re a different Will from the future, then Will… my son Will, he-he has to be alive, right? So we’re going to fix this, okay, it’s-it’s all going to work out.” Joyce says, almost like she’s trying to convince herself as she wipes at her own eyes with the sleeve of her jacket that’s splattered with flecks of black paint.

“It will.” Mike says with complete conviction, “We’re gonna save him.”

Joyce manages to give Mike a small grateful smile before she looks back at Will.

“Well then, let’s—Wait, how old are you?” Joyce blurts out, face scrunching up, “You look so much like Jonathan…”

“I’m sixteen and I don’t look that much like Jonathan…” Will groans, fighting off a blush as his mom moves in closer to peer at him.

“And your hair—" His mom lifts her hand up to tug at a loose strand of his hair, something she hasn’t done in years.

Will immediately swats her hand away, embarrassment flooding him.

“Mom, c’mon, I didn’t choose to cut my hair like this, leave me alone.” Will whines, feeling like he’s actually twelve years old all over again with his mom fusing over him as he tries to straighten the uneven mess he knows his hair has grown into.

“What do you mean, you didn’t choose to cut it?” Joyce asks, eyes narrowing immediately in suspicion.

“Later, don’t worry about it now.” Will says, wanting to put that conversation off for as long as possible, to never have it even, “More importantly—”

Will puts a hand on El’s shoulder, gently pulling her away where she’s been hiding behind him. El blinks at him, little shoulders tense, “I want you to meet El.”

“Uh? I-It’s nice to meet you, El.” Joyce says with a tired smile because even exhausted and scared out of her mind, Joyce Byers always tries so hard to understand the things Will cares about.

El nods.

“How did you two meet, exactly?” Joyce asks slowly.

“It’s… another long story, but El’s cool, I promise.” Will says, “She’s gonna help us.”

“Cool.” El says, pointing at herself and nods solemnly, her face completely serious.

Will can’t resist the smile that comes over his face at that.

“Mom.” El says, the question clear in her voice, “Joyce?” She turns her head, looking up at Will for confirmation.

Will nods. He’d talked about his mom to El in whispers in the lab, desperately trying to tell her of a world outside of the sterile white walls.

El looks back at Joyce, squinting before nodding, like she’s come to a decision.

“Mom.” El says decisively, her lips turning up at the edges into a smile.

“She’s not–” Mike cuts himself off, shaking his head as if he can’t believe what’s happening, “You can’t just adopt yourself.”

“…”

El looks so devastated that Will immediately speaks up, mildly horrified that Mike would say something like that.

“It’s a long story, but El’s like my sister, so she can call her mom too, it’s okay.” Will insists, “Seriously Mike.”

Mike sighs, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything.

Joyce looks to Will, who nods encouragingly at her.

“Y-yeah, it’s fine. Of course it’s fine.” Joyce says, giving El a kind, if confused, smile.

“El’s special, in more ways than one, and she needs—” Will says, but before he can continue a car speeds by, laying on the horn.

El jumps, hiding behind Joyce and gripping at the back of her shirt as she shakes. Will, looking rapidly over his shoulder, remembers that they’re standing out in the open on the Byers’ rickety old porch, completely visible.

“Can we go in—” Will says, before immediately being doused in the freezing cold remembrance of just who is currently instead the Byers’ house, wincing.

“Could you, uh…” Will’s not quite sure how to ask, “Lonnie…”

Will can’t meet his mom’s eyes, but he hears her sigh, cracking a little further.

“Oh sweetie, of course. I’ll tell him to leave, and then you can come and-and explain everything so just… wait a minute okay?” Joyce says, gently disentangling El’s hands from her shirt as Joyce turns around to head back inside.

Will sees his mom turn and pause before she opens the door, squaring her shoulder before walking back inside with her head held high.

Guilt squirms in Will’s stomach, that he’s making his mom deal with this again, because Will knows how much Lonnie hates Will, but it must be worse for his mom, who loved him once.

Mike grabs Will’s hand, looking up at him with the same determined expression he used to look down at Will with when he was Mike’s age. Refusing to let Will go through it alone even if Mike didn’t know what to say.

It’s quiet, the billowing wind brushing through the last few autumn leaves and scattering them across the lawn. The wooden floorboards creak from where Will sways back and forth anxiously, trying to focus on something, anything other than the faint voices he can just barely hear inside the house.

El’s busy looking around, leaning down to peer curiously at the abandoned toys, an old green truck and some sidewalk chalk that Will vaguely remembers Mike bringing over and leaving behind ages ago, though she doesn’t wander more than a few feet away from Will.

Mike, for his part, is standing right next to Will like a guard dog in-training, tiny but ready to fight anything that comes too close.

Will feels both too old and too young as he tries to ignore what’s going on.

Lonnie begins to yell, of course, arguing with Joyce, their voices rising and rising. Another car drives by and Will flinches, instinctively hunching in on himself as he moves to hide himself behind one of the rotting support beams on the porch.

Mike looks at him with concern, but before he can say anything, the front door’s thrown open, slamming into the outer wall of the house from the force–

“Get out.” Joyce states firmly, no room for argument. She gestures in the direction she wants Lonnie to go, to what must be his old beat-up car sitting behind Joyce’s in the driveway.

Lonnie stands there, planting himself right inside the doorway as he lowers his voice, anger melting away on his face into pity.

“Joyce, be reasonable. You’re upset, you’re grieving… you’re not well, Joyce. I’m just concerned.” Lonnie begs, and he does look upset, a furrow in his brow and a small frown on his face as he steps closer to Joyce instead of out the door.

Will feels guilty for driving his parents to this point yet again. It’s always him. The one thing that pushes his parents to the breaking point, the reason their family shattered apart into sharp fragments that still slice at Will when he thinks about it. But Will also knows that whatever emotions Lonnie might be showing, they’re not real.

Because when Will woke up in the hospital all those years ago, Lonnie wasn’t there.

“Lonnie, I-I’ve told you already. I really appreciate the help, but I need you to leave. Right now.” Joyce’s face is set in stone.

Will knows better than to argue with her, but Lonnie still hasn’t learned and probably never will.

“I’m not leaving you alone with this, Joyce, you’re—” Lonnie lowers his voice like he’s trying to hide what he’s talking about from them, “—seeing things, listening to random kids talk about how our son isn’t dead.”

Joyce glares at him, opening her mouth before her eyes dart to Will and she closes her mouth again, wanting to spare any version of Will from what she’s really feeling but Will knows anyway.

Lonnie only cares about Will when he can gain something from it.

“This isn’t up for discussion, I-I’m kicking you out. You can come back later, but right now I need you to leave.” Joyce demands.

Lonnie sighs, rolling his eyes as if to say that Joyce is being ridiculous, but isn’t he being so kind as to not point that out. He sticks out a hand and grabs onto Joyce’s arm, starting to pull her away from the door, “Don’t be like this, you’re just overreacting—”

Will’s entire body locks up, his hand clenching so tightly that he can feel his fingernails breaking through the skin of his palm, thoughts blanking.

“Do not touch me, you—” Joyce demands, yanking her arm out of Lonnie’s grip, only for him to reach for her again.

“Joyce—” Lonnie reaches for her again, impatience growing in his voice as he reaches for her again.

That’s it.

It’s like a dam bursts open, guilt, shame, fear, hatred, and anger picking up speed into a torrent that sweeps through Will’s entire body, leaving nothing behind in his path.

And honestly? Will almost feels grateful for it, the way anger flows through him, a foreign hatred so strong that Will knows it's not his own, but it sings and matches the pitch of his, hating his father with an unearthly passion, so powerful it overwhelms everything else Will is feeling.

He loses control, that anger flowing out of him in a wave as Will’s mind goes distant from his body in the worst way.

Everything… stops.

Will can’t breathe, air caught in his chest, but he can view every single detail as if he’s in a movie, and he just hit the pause button on the remote to fight with Mike and Dustin over too-buttery popcorn.

It’s like a flickering set of slides, Will’s memories flooding through him in quick succession, snapshot after snapshot after snapshot.

Lonnie leaving the entire family, shoving Jonathan around to make him more manly, screaming at Joyce, pushing Will down the stairs at a baseball game when Will didn’t remember what the players were called, calling Will every single horrible thing Will thinks about himself now, the few pathetic attempts they’d made at being a family.

That one lonely birthday trip to a restaurant where Lonnie called Will a queer for doodling flowers on his napkins in purple crayon and Joyce screamed at him, Jonathan terrified and shaking beside him.

Will had been six.

“Fuck—”

So many similar memories swirl in his head, swooping and tearing him into pieces. Will makes it into the doorway before he’s overwhelmed by them all, clutching his head as he slumps against the rough wood of the wall.

Will, have you seen—Ugh seriously Lucas can you—hate you I HATE YOU I HATE—wants to kill us—Great, just great—Will, Will, are you okay—WILL—I know who you really are—William Byers? Are you present—what a weirdo—who cares? We can all just—Flat-lining, he’s flat-lining—your staff follows your command casting—he’s back, he’s back he’s—

Another lid rips off his own memories, making him gasp out, eyes snapping open.

All the memories the Mindflayer pulled out of him are digging into his brain all over again, but it’s so much worse because on top of it all, Will suddenly remembers a name.

Vecna.

The wind stops blowing, the nearly leafless trees motionless.

Not a single sound reaches Will’s ears, and for a moment Will distantly wonders if he’s found the eye of the storm, feeling nothing in the midst of it all after such a sudden surge of emotion.

It makes it easy, simple even, for Will to take it all in.

Joyce is a frozen picture of fury, like an angry God about to strike, already moving to physically shove Lonnie further away from her. Never idle, his mom’s been captured mid-movement, hair stuck flying sideways, as if stuck in an invisible current.

Mike is standing directly beside him, glaring fiercely at Lonnie, his hand reaching out to Will. He’s a statue of righteous fury, pale skin illuminated with a flush that covers the tips of his cheeks.

El is hidden behind a rotting deck chair, pink chalk clenched tightly in her small fist as she watches everything with trembling chocolate-brown eyes.

Lonnie… Lonnie is trapped in a moment of ugliness, his sympathetic expression just barely cracking at the corners, a glint of loathing revealed in the creases around his mouth, threatening to turn into a sneer.

And Will?

Will watches from a million miles away, his body lifting Will’s legs of its own accord, taking one, two, three slow steps forward.

Lifting Will’s hand to pull Lonnie out of the doorway, the wave of anger crashes down. Before Will can even see what happens, Lonnie’s lying face-first in the dirt.

Will doesn’t even have to touch him, Lonnie’s like an empty Coke can, sent flying simply because Will thinks about it.

Just like—

Will collapses knees giving out as something drips down his face, the sharp tang of something metallic filling his nostrils.

Everyone jumps into motion the second Will falls to the porch like a puppet with his strings cut, blood pounding in his ears.

“A-ah…” Will’s head’s killing him, like someone took his brain and put it in a blender, his vision fading in and out.

“What the f– what just happened?” Lonnie asks, looking between Joyce, Will, and the kids. Lonnie’s lying on the ground, face in the dirt as he scrambles to right himself, baffled beyond belief as he looks back at them, “Joyce, what the fuck is this?”

Joyce blinks for a moment, just as lost as she looks between Will and Lonnie.

“Will, did you—you just—" Mike asks, voice barely a frantic whisper in Will’s ear as Mike crouches down beside him, his hand hovering awkwardly in the space above Will’s shoulder.

Ignoring him, Will wipes at his face with the back of his hand.

A wet blood-red streak glistens accusingly.

Even with his head spinning, Will knows everyone is staring at him, shocked silent.

Ignoring the stomach-churning implications, Will grasps onto the rough splintered wall beside him, balancing on shaking legs.

Resisting the urge to flinch and sink in on himself, Will turns to Lonnie, “…She told you to leave.” 

Lonnie gapes at him, lying flat on his back in the dirty dust pit that makes up the Byers’ front walkway.

“Did you… push me? What the—Who the hell do you think you are, you little—” Lonnie starts, fury clearly rising as he pushes himself up onto his knees.

“Get out.” Will says, but his voice trembles, wavering ever so slightly and Lonnie catches it as always, always good at uncovering whatever Will doesn’t want him to find.

“What’s this? You think you can take me on, huh,” Lonnie spits out, pulling himself up to his full height where he barely, barely towers over Will, “I’m not letting some random punk come into my house and boss me around—"

“It’s not your house, Lonnie,” Joyce reminds him, stepping in between the two of them, “It’s mine.”

“And you’re not welcome here.” Will adds, staring Lonnie down alongside Joyce.

Something otherworldly must show in Will’s expression because for the first time in his entire life, Will witnesses his father’s eyes dilate in fear.

Lonnie shudders, the wind blowing through him as he stares, and stares, at Will, some base animal fear triggered deep in Lonnie’s brain.

It hurts, scratches at all the tender vulnerable parts of Will that he fears more than anything. To know that Will can become something monstrous, because it means that so many of the cruel words his father said about him were right.

But Lonnie was wrong about one crucial thing.

Will’s not weak. He’s never been weak.

Lonnie, always aware of when his fortunes have turned, turns away from them all, dusting his pants off as starts to walk towards his car.

“Fine, I’ll go check on Jonathan, like you should be doing,” Lonnie remarks over his shoulder, one last parting shot, “He must be struggling with the funeral arrangements, considering you’re hanging around with a bunch of–of freak kids instead of thinking about our son.”

“Fuck off Lonnie.” Joyce says tiredly.

Lonnie clicks his tongue, annoyed at them all, but instead of saying anything further, he gets into the driver’s seat, slamming the car door behind him.

“Fuck off,” El repeats, as the beaten-up black car sputters for a second, before finally pulling away and out of Will's life yet again, “Mouthbreather.”

The second Lonnie’s car pulls past the curve of the road, out of sight, Will gives into the way his entire body wants to tremble, overwhelmed and electric with fear.

Joyce rushes to Will’s side, steadying him with a firm hand on his shoulder, “You okay?”

Will feels something inside him crumble, a realization he’s still not ready to face.

“No, no. It’s—” Will starts, trying not to cry, “It’s not—”

“Super powers…” Mike whispers, hazel eyes wide with an awe that Will immediately hates, turning his head away from Mike only to see Eleven watching him, not a

“Brother.” El states, as if it’s simple, as if this entire situation is normal, “Like me.”

It’s not… it’s not like Will hates Eleven for having powers, okay? She didn’t have a choice, and she grew up in lab, so it’s normal for her. But it’s different for Will, knowing his powers must come from Henry or-or-or something inherently wrong with him or—

Joyce slowly wraps her arm around Will’s shoulder, the familiar scent of cigarette smoke and laundry detergent enveloping him as she speaks to him softly, “It’s okay, honey. Whatever it is, it’s okay, we’re gonna figure this all out.”

It works, and Will stumbles. But Joyce is steady, with a strength beyond her short stature as she loosely pulls him into their house, past all the debris and shattered walls as she sits him down on the couch. It’s  good thing too, because Will’s vision spins, a mess of feelings and barely-there memories coming back to him in force, details and names that he’d forgotten about pouring back into his. Eyes closed, Will remembers so much, so many details he’d forgotten about— no, that had been taken from him by Vecna.

Right, how could Will forget about Vecna?

Whatever happened just now, it tears Will into pieces, memories flooding up through the cracks.

How exactly Will got to the past is a mystery, the details an adrenaline-fueled blur that Will doesn’t understand. But Will messed up. He let Vecna get too close and then— the last thing Will remembers is the terrified look on Mike’s dirty face as he tried to reach out to Will, fingers grasping at Will’s arm but failing to catch before Will found himself spirited away.

Honestly, all of this just makes Will feel even worse when he realizes that he’s let down even more people than he initially remembered, falling straight into the past and into that stupid lab.

Not that any of that matters right now.

Taking a few deep shuddering breaths, Will pulls himself together, clenching his hands into fists, nails digging into his skin as he tries to focus.

The three of them, Mike, Joyce, and El, are watching him with matching looks of concern.

“Will?” Mike asks, worry ringing clear in his voice as Will blinks at him, Mike’s body blurring in his vision between this younger version and the older Mike in Will’s mind for a few moments.

“Can I get you anything, sweetie? Do you need a bandage, food, something to drink?” Joyce says, her thin hand resting on his forearm, not demanding but consistent. God, Will misses his mom.

“… Water?” Will says, his throat dry.

Joyce nods, squeezing his shoulder once, before walking away into the kitchen.

El holds out the sleeve of her shirt, wiping her nose with it and then pointing to Will.

“You.” El says.

Will blinks, copying her motions. The sleeve comes away red, blood smeared across it.

“Oh shit.” Will blurts out as he stares at the blood, the reality of it suddenly crashing into him, “That was… me? That was all—”

El nods, “You. All you.”

“I didn’t— I’ve never—” Will tries to say, looking at the two kids in front of him and feels guilty about how much he wishes his sister, fully grown, could be standing there instead.

But El always tries, even this small version who’s so lost in this huge world she’s never been allowed to exist in before.

She looks at him, eyes intent and focused.

“Anger,” El says simply, “Anger makes it strong.”

“… Your powers are fueled by anger?” Mike asks, confused. Mike’s looking between the two of them, clearly at a loss. He opens his mouth, but instead reaches over to grab at his own jacket, looking awkwardly around like he’s not sure what to say.

Mike must be so freaked out, Will thinks miserably, Great job Byers, couldn’t even keep it together in front of a kid.

El, however, ignores Mike, reaching up to hold Will’s hand with both of her own, too small to fully grab onto Will’s.

“Bad man.” El emphasizes, “Made you angry.”

El pauses for a moment, face scrunching up in the way Will’s come to recognize is El’s annoyance at her inability to express her thoughts.

“… Papa?” El asks quietly.

Will sighs, but nods, the gross emotions starting to rise within him at the thought as El looks at him with pity in her eyes.

Henry had hated them too, Will remembers in a lighting flash, had hated Mike, hated El, hated Lonnie, hated Papa, hated his own father with a horrifying intensity that overwhelms Will, flows through him like he’s just a conduit, unable to stop the wave that comes over him.

Will’s suddenly furious, all the hatred frothing within him into one mass of fury at Vecna for forcing him into this situation.

Before he knows it, Will loses control, mind distant in the worst way.

Everything freezes again.

Will wants to cry, feels like a little kid so far out of his depth. El’s hands are frozen on his, while Mike…

Mike’s biting his lip, looking so worried. His hands are twisted in the bottom of his jacket, the cloth crinkling between his fingers.

They’re both paused, flickering occasionally like the VHS tapes on Will’s old CRT TV, like they want to move but can’t. Kept trapped in place by whatever impossible thing Will’s doing.

Will doesn’t know how to stop it, the whole living room standing still while his head feels like it’s trying to tear itself open.

The room around them is a wreck too, old strands of lights hung haphazardly in the dark room, sun shining through the blue tarp and giving the whole room a sickly glow.

Will never saw it for himself, the Byers’ house during the time he disappeared spoken about in disbelieving whispers. A war zone, mission control for all the people who’d tried to get him back, totally wrecked. By the time Will was released from the hospital, the floor and wallpaper were completely restored, squeaky clean and more perfect than his house had ever been before his disappearance. Old creaky floorboards and crinkles in wallpaper ironed out and perfect, like nothing ever happened.

He remembers the twisted version of his house in the Upside Down, watching black tar letters appear on the wall of their living room in real time, his mom brilliantly figuring out how to translate his basic ability of manipulating the lights into real words and ideas, but it wasn’t the same.

In-between the flashes, Will sees the dark vines and shredded living room walls, the whole room torn apart. The tell-tale chill of the Upside Down caressing his skin with a cruel touch.

“Mike’s been here.” Will whispers, feeling the truth of it buzzing in the back of head, little flickers that feel like electric shocks zinging down the back of his neck.

It’s like how Will can always feel the Mindflayer, goosebumps rising because of the deep primal reaction it triggers, his body more aware than his mind. But now, it’s more intense, more pointed, and when Will shuts his eyes, he can almost see the older Mike, his Mike, leaning his head back on the couch cushions, filthy and exhausted. Alive.

But the image fuzzes out and suddenly Will sees Mike running, gasping for air as he sprints through the forest, screaming his name.

“Will!” The younger Mike’s voice rings in time with the older Mike’s, and Will blinks his eyes open to see Mike, twelve and tiny, moving as he stares at Will with obvious concern.

“Hm?” Will questions, not fully sure which Mike is real.

“Your nose is bleeding again. A lot.” Said matter-of-factly, with the concern vibrating in the way Mike thrusts a tissue at him, held in a small hand with uncertain fingers, clumsy. Childish in the way the tissue is shoved up against Will’s nose, more concerned with fixing the problem.

Mike’s right, Will’s blood soaks through the thin surface of the tissue, red soaking through the white.

“Whoops.” Will mumbles, feeling dizzy and wondering, inanely, if this is how El feels all the time. Confused and light-headed.

Joyce walks back into the room, arms full of things that she almost spills to the floor when she sees Will, but she catches herself before they all drop. Shuffling around, she manages to hand Will the glass of water.

“I-Is this a… normal thing?” Joyce asks hesitantly, “The bleeding.”

“No. No, this is new.” Will says as he struggles to keep the bitterness out of his voice, “Brand new.”

Will takes a big gulp of water, thirsty beyond belief.

Joyce watches him intensely, opening and closing her mouth as if trying to find the words. She’s so anxious, uncertain with this situation.

“Sorry.” Will says, the guilt automatic and a well-worn path.

“No need to apologize.” Joyce says, giving him a tired smile, “This is all so— so much. Take your time, baby.”

“It’s okay, I’m alright,” Will states, shaking his head. He’s exhausted, and everything’s still spinning but—He needs to stay focused. What would Mike do, if he was here right now?

Mike would prioritize, focus on the most immediate problem, categorizing it all with a frightening speed… But Will feels torn in so many directions, his head pounding. He desperately wishes that Mike was here, able to take the lead… But it’s just Will. And all Will knows is that Mike, his Mike, is trapped in the Upside Down.

“… We need to focus on the most urgent problem: Finding your Will and my Mike.” Will says, rubbing at his temples to fight off the emerging headache.

“So you do know where he is?” Joyce asks, her eyes widening as her anxiety ratchets back up, “I think—I think I saw him earlier, right there.”

Joyce points towards the half-covered hole in the front wall, packing tape half-assedly applied to hold up a piece of cardboard. Lonnie’s shoddy handiwork for certain, just enough to keep the occasional frigid breeze from blowing into the house.

Will vaguely remembers that, remembers finding the weak spot in the Upside Down wall that he hadn’t been able to break through even as he punched and kicked at it with all his might, his mom illuminated in pink as he screamed.

“He was probably trying to break through. Did you see someone else with him?” Will says, wondering how things have changed with the two of them, him and Mike, running around in the past. Mike Wheeler absolutely wouldn’t sit around waiting to be rescued.

“No, but I- someone was yelling at me to break the wall. And then told me to go find Mike—” Joyce gestures to twelve-year-old Mike.

“That must have been my Mike. Sixteen-year-old Mike.” Will says, “I think he’s trapped in there with your Will.”

“Wait, so there’s… two Mikes. And two Wills?” Joyce says, looking between Will and Mike. She’s still catching up, it seems.

“Yeah, exactly.” Mike says, the twelve-year-old not at all shy, shoving his way into the more adult conversation, “There’s a future Will, a future me, and then me, and then our Will.”

“… And how did that happen?” Joyce asks, meeting Mike’s eyes. She always took Mike seriously, and Will finds himself mildly impressed (and concerned) at how quickly the two are able to work things out. Will certainly wouldn’t believe himself in this situation.

“Dunno yet, probably some wizard stuff,” Mike admits, before becoming defensive, voice increasing in volume, “But you’ve heard the older me right?”

Joyce nods, “I think so.”

“Will said that you rescued him in his past. So you know how to do that now.” Mike says, like it’s a simple solution.

Joyce shakes her head, “…I’m sorry boys. I—I’ve been trying, but I don’t know how to access the—space that Will’s in.”

“… So we need to find Hopper,” Will says, after a moment of thought, “He helped rescue me, so he must know how to get into the lab where the gate is.”

“The lab… A gate in the lab?” Joyce asks. She’s valiantly trying to keep up with all this, but she’s so clearly lost.

“It’s… like a doorway to another dimension,” Will’s never had to explain any of this, had instead just lived through the confusing hellish reality of it and then awoken to find that all of his friends and family knew what had happened better than he did, so explaining it all still feels so weird, “We need to go through it to get your Will and Mike.”

“Let’s go then.” Joyce says simply, rising from where she’s been sitting on the couch beside him, ready to run out the door immediately. Will shakes his head.

“It’s a huge secret government project, Mom, they won’t just let people in.”

“Watch me.” Joyce says bluntly.

“Also I, well… I… kind of escaped from that lab and I’m on the run from the government.” Will mumbles, looking off to the side, and then blurts out, “Sorry.”

“What?” Joyce asks, voice strangled.

“It’s fine, it’ll all be fine.” Will stresses, hoping his mom won’t worry, but she’s still trembling, looking Will over with wide, frantic, eyes.

“Are-are you okay? Did they… hurt you?” Joyce asks, hand coming up to grab at Will’s shoulder.

“I’m fine Mom, it wasn’t that bad,” Will states firmly, “You should be more worried about your Will.

Joyce shakes her head, “I can worry about as many Wills as I want, no matter how old and mature you get.”

“Mom…” Will groans, but Joyce’s eyebrows raise, daring him to argue with her.

“Now that we’re all on the same page: I’m going to call Hopper and I won’t stop until he answers,” Joyce says, taking charge. She stands up, tall and determined.

“Meanwhile, you kids rest here for a bit. And Mike, could you get… Will something to eat? I think we still have some snacks from the last sleepover you boys had…”

“On it!” Mike exclaims, jumping up from the couch and running into the kitchen.

“And, El was it?” Joyce asks softly, turning to the silent girl who’s been busy poking through the various books, magazines and tchotchkes scattered around the living room, “Feel free to make yourself at home. The house is—” a wreck “— a bit of a mess, but Will’s room is still pretty clean if you need to lie down.”

El looks at Joyce, stunned and pleased, before she wanders off to explore the house.

Joyce crouches down, kneeling beside Will in a way that she really doesn’t need to anymore because Will’s gotten so tall, and looks him in the eye.

“Now, I know I’m not… your Joyce Byers, I think…?” Joyce says like she’s still lost on what exactly Will’s relationship to her is, “But you… you need to rest. Whatever you did to Lonnie—”

“Sorry.” Will blurts out reflexively and then winces, annoyed at himself.

“It’s—you don’t need to apologize Will, it’s okay. It’s my fault you had to see him at all.” Joyce sighs. She’s exhausted, eyes turned down in a sadness Will knows well, “You always apologize for things that aren’t your fault.”

Will bites back another sorry.

“You’re so grown up now and it seems like you’ve been through… a lot, but I’m sure wherever your mom is, she’d want you to know how proud of you she is,” Joyce says firmly, “We’re going to get you home. You and Mike.”

“Got it?” Joyce states, not a question.

“Got it.” Will confirms with a tired smile as Mike rushes back into the room, a bag of off-brand trail mix in hand.

“Found the snacks!” Mike says, tearing the bag open and holding it out to Will like it’s the holy grail

“Okay, you kids stay here. I’m going to call Hopper’s office until he answers.” Joyce says annoyance seeping into her voice as she stands and walks away.

Mike hops onto the couch beside Will, open snack bag balanced on the cushion between them.

“So Will…” Mike starts, before he changes course after taking a glance at Will, who must look like an absolute wreck, “Actually, you know what? We should have a time travel password. You know, just in case this ever happens again and you need me to believe you super fast ‘cause the fate of the world’s at stake or whatever.”

Will laughs, a tired thing that escapes from his chest as he speaks without, “The fate of the world’s already at stake here.”

“... What?” Mike asks, amusement turning to shock, “It’s that bad?”

Goddamnit.

🝮

Chapter Text

🕒

“Will… what’re you talking about?” Mike asks, suddenly feeling like a little kid for the first time since his Will vanished.

Like someone more important should be here, listening to Will talk about how the world could end instead of Mike Wheeler, who only got a B+ on his last math test and got picked last for every sport in gym class.

Will buries his face in his hands, “Fuck, ignore that.”

Mike doesn’t know what’s wrong with Will, but he’s been shaking like a leaf ever since he… used superpowers on Lonnie, sending him flying with an anger Mike hadn’t known Will was capable of.

It’s… cool, it’s so cool, that Will can do these things, Mike thinks, but Will doesn’t seem to think so at all.

“Will?” Mike asks again, trying to make his voice even softer this time.

Will’s covering his mouth with his hand, tan jacket sleeve visibly bloodied from where he wiped his nose, but his eyes are clenched closed, deep in thought and about a thousand miles away from Mike.

Mike doesn’t know what to do, and the guilt of it starts to eat at him immediately, all of his ideas feeling pathetically childish.

If Will was 12, then Mike could just keep poking him until he eventually snapped out of his funk and shoved Mike away from him.

But Will is 16, bleeding and breaking down while Mike hovers awkwardly and uselessly by his side.

“—damnit, Hopper!”

Mike can hear Joyce in the hallway, pacing back and forth as she waits for yet another call to connect.

She’s been calling the police station constantly, leaving angrier and angrier messages for Hopper with the receptionist on the other end who’s started begging Joyce to stop clogging the line. In response, Joyce angrily flips through her address book, looking for Hopper’s home phone number while cursing, louder and louder to the point that even Mike can hear her.

The Byers’ house looks like it’s been through absolute hell, furniture shoved in awkward corners, chunks of the wall lying on the floor next to the tarp that’s not really blocking out the freezing wind from blowing into room.

The Christmas lights are strung everywhere, brighter than any Christmas display Mike’s parents have ever taken him to, but the grid behind him with letters painted in thick black letters on the wall look like a horror version of those letter charts plaster on all the walls in kindergarten classrooms, A B C D E—

El, at least, is in another room so Mike doesn’t have to worry about her.

“Will, you in there?” Mike asks nervously after another few moments trickle by without Will doing much more than breathing, in and out, in and out, too fast to feel normal, “It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me anything. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay actually. Mike’s heart beats out of his chest like when he’s DMing a final boss battle for the Party, imagining his friends risking life and limb to accomplish some heroic task. It’s one thing to pretend to be a knight fighting off monsters and saving the world, but entirely another to sit here, wondering if Will meant it.

Will’s eyes open as he turns to look at Mike, brown eyes dark from the lack of light, sitting on the couch surrounded by broken Christmas lights.

“Sorry, sorry. Can we pretend I didn’t say anything?” Will says, tone light in that annoying way adults do when they don’t think Mike can handle adult stuff even though he’s already worried, “It’s just—it’s not something you should be worrying about right now. It’s a future problem.”

Mike hesitates before shaking his head, “…We can pretend if that’s what you really want. But I want to know what we’re up against.”

Will sighs, stiff limbs unraveling a little as he finally leans back into the couch cushions from where he’s been bundled up and perched on the edge.

“It’s… it’s a lot,” Will admits, “I don’t think overwhelming you with everything would help right now, either.”

Mike puffs up his cheeks, annoyed and trying not to show it, “I can’t help you if I don’t even know what the problem is.”

Will looks at him, considering.

“And it’s not like we can trust anyone but us. And Dustin and Lucas I guess.” Mike adds, because he trusts those two with his life but they can still act like such kids, so Mike knows it’ll all rely on him and Will.

“… What about El?” Will asks pointedly after a moment, making Mike squirm from where he’s seated, not liking the direction this is heading in.

“What about her?” Mike replies, a beat too fast.

“Mike, seriously, what’s your problem with El?” Will says, looking him dead in the eye, “Did something happen?”

“I don’t have a problem with her.” Mike replies immediately, “She’s the one causing problems, not me.”

Will shoots him a withering look, the blood specks on his chin making him look far more dire than Will has any right to be.

“Clearly you do, you’ve been snapping at her the whole time I’ve been here.” Will says bluntly, shifting on the couch so that Mike can see the full scope of his disappointment.

Shame blooms deep within him. Getting scolded by an older Will feels worse than anything his parents or teachers could ever say to him.

“I don’t…” Mike says, fingers drumming on the arm of the couch, frustrated with trying to make Will understand, “She’s just… not one of us.”

“Yes, she is.” Will replies immediately and firmly.

“She lied and Will—”

“—is sitting right next to you trying to help you find your Will?’ Really?” Will asks sarcastically, eyebrows raised.

Mike looks down, frustrated, scuffing the back of his heels against the couch. He doesn’t know what to say, can’t explain that he keeps seeing Will dead in his mind even though he knows better, knows deep down that Will is alive. But he can’t stop thinking about it, Will flailing in the water, gasping for air, while El stood at the shore, eyes blank and guilty, willing to lead them on forever if it meant having a place to stay.

She’s a liar, why can’t Will see that?

So Mike stays silent, stewing in his anger, trying to pull together words that never come.

After a minute of stubborn silence that feels like years, Mike refusing to give any ground, Will gives in with a long-suffering sigh.

“Listen Mike, I know there’s too much going on. But you can’t keep snapping at El like this. She’s on our side,” Will insists before he breaks eye contact, staring hard at the hole in the wall, “and you-you have no idea how important she is to you—to all of us—in the future.”

“Why would we be close?” Mike asks baffled, nose scrunching up in disgust. Sure, he’d been amazed that any girl would be willing to talk to him of all people, didn’t know all the awful things people at school said about him, but then she comes and-and-and-

“Future stuff.” Will says, shifting on the couch next to him, suddenly awkward.

Mike’s starting to hate when older Will says that, reminding him of the huge gap between them. That Will doesn’t want them to be on the same page.

“Whatever.” Mike huffs out, crossing his arms.

“Can you please just apologize to her? And try to be a bit more understanding?” Will pleads.

Mike’s about to snap again, make Will understand why they can’t trust Eleven, but he finally looks back at Will.

Will’s eyes are rimmed with purple, exhausted and he’s missed a smear of blood on his upper lip. Even worse, Will’s still shaking a little from earlier, his leg twitching and bumping with nervous energy into Mike’s.

“Fine.” Mike agrees in a grumble, but then quickly adds, “But only if you talk to me about what’s bothering you.”

“Huh?” Will blurts out, surprise clear on his face.

“I mean, the whole thing earlier with your dad… you-you seem really upset.” Mike tries, even though he can feel how weak his own words feel.

Will’s quiet, non-responsive for a minute, “It’s not… I don’t know, I don’t know where to start.”

Neither does Mike, who fiddles with his sleeve for a few intensely awkward seconds before blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Do you get superpowers when you get older?”

Will sighs, “Not really, it just, it’s not superpowers. I have some leftover— side effects I guess, from everything that’s happening now.”

“Side effects that let you move stuff with your mind.” Mike says, doubt clear in his voice.

“No I-I didn’t—move stuff with mind, I—it’s different than that. And that didn’t happen until…”

“… until after I got here.” Will says, opening up slowly. His leg isn’t bouncing anymore at least, so Mike continues.

“So more like Captain America than X-Men.” Mike says.

“Sure, I guess.” Will mutters, taking another sip of water to look away, almost like he can hide behind the cup.

“… then why aren’t you more excited about them?” Mike asks, trying not to let his confusion show, “Psychic powers are cool.”

“I never wanted psychic powers; I just want it all to go away. I never wanted any of this.” Will exhales, gesturing violently at the entire messed up living room with his hand.

Mike knows he’s out of his depth here. Will sounds like every angsty cool hero ever, honestly, and it reminds Mike of when they used to talk for ages about what superpowers they wanted, what would be the most useful. Mike changed his mind about it every few weeks, but Will…

Will always wanted to be able to turn invisible.

“Uh, but what about all the cool stuff?” Mike points out the obvious, “You can fight bad guys now. Save people, Spider-Man style.”

“In Hawkins?” Will scoffs, voice rising in disbelief, “There’s like, almost no crime here. And the government’s already after me, so it’s not like wearing a mask to hide my secret identity would do anything.”

“Have you even tried doing anything with your powers?” Mike asks, not deterred, “You should.”

Will rolls his eyes in a way that Mike knows means he’s going to ignore the issue, moving to stand before Mike reaches out to grab his arm.

“No seriously Will, think about it: if you know how to use your powers, maybe you’ll feel better about them?” Mike suggests, mind running through the plots of about a dozen different comic books.

Will blinks at him, “I guess…”

Mike stands up, grabbing a pillow that must have fallen to the floor in all the chaos.

“Okay, maybe you can lift this with your mind?” Mike asks, growing a bit excited but trying to keep it under control.

Will, however, looks the opposite of excited, staring at the pillow like it might come to life and eat him.

It’s a reasonable concern, Mike grudgingly admits. He’d run a campaign two months ago where the Party stayed in an inn full of Mimics. Dustin still hasn’t forgiven him for making the bed come to life, eating his character whole.

“Will.” Mike says demandingly after Will doesn’t move, “C’mon.”

“I don’t know how.” Will explains after a moment, “I’ve never done this on purpose, it just happens.”

“Well, how does El do it?” Mike asks.

“She used to like, hold her hand out and scream?” Will says, holding his own hand up to demonstrate, “I wonder if the screaming is necessary though…”

Mike waits, watching Will encouragingly for a moment until Will looks at him, unamused.

“I’m not going to scream.” Will explains slowly, “That’s stupid.”

Mike thinks for another moment before realizing all his other superpower training ideas come directly from comic books, D&D, or Star Wars and they have an actual superhero person in the house that Mike could ask.

El won’t attack him in the Byers’ house, Mike thinks and then immediately wants to slap himself, feeling ridiculous for being so afraid of a little girl, remembering how terrified she’d been the night he ran into her, chilled to the bone in the downpour of rain, completely lost. So scared, but looking to Mike like he could save her.

For some reason, it’s that memory more than anything that decides it for Mike.

“Well then, I’m gonna go ask El.” Mike declares strongly.

“And?” Will says more than asks, making it obvious what Mike should say.

“… apologize.” Mike sighs before immediately clarifying, “Just ‘cause we need the help though.”

Will nods, responding with a smile, “Good call.”

🕒

Mike heads to Will’s bedroom, which has been similarly invaded with lights but otherwise looks almost entirely untouched. There’s a half-finished drawing on Will’s desk, crayons scattered nearby like Will dropped them in a hurry and forgot to pick them up. Will’s always kept his room tidy, but a few toys are scattered around, waiting for Will to come home just like Mike is.

El’s poking around, looking through all the many objects that Will owns, wide-eyed and curious about everything she sees, like when Mike had shown her his room. She’s going through a box near Will’s bed, picking up a cassette tape and peering at it curiously, poking her finger in the spools.

“Don’t do that, you’ll break it.” Mike blurts out, “The Byers are really touchy about their music stuff.”

El looks at him for a moment before frowning, turning her back to him in an obvious dismissal.

Mike sighs, hesitant, but in Will’s room, surrounded by remnants of Will’s presence, it’s easier to remember why he’s here in the first place.

“Look, I’m sorry okay?” Mike says, throwing the words out there as fast as he can, “I know you’re just trying to help but…”

El turns to him, face blank and unreadable as Mike continues.

“I’m so worried about Will.” Mike admits, “And I keep thinking that you… you don’t want to help him. Like, maybe you just want our help because you’re in a bad situation, so you’ll say anything. But now things keep getting more confusing and I’m— I don’t know, it feels like I’m just making things worse, sorry.”

“You… yelled at me.” Eleven says slowly, “Friends do not lie. I do not lie.”

“I know I know. I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier, you were telling the truth,” Mike agrees, rocking back and forth on his heels nervously, “But then—that whole thing at the quarry—"

El nods, watching him warily.

“I don’t know, this whole situation is so crazy…” Mike trails off before he admits in a small voice, “I’m not sure what’s real anymore.”

“I am real.” El responds immediately, moving to stand in front of Mike, forcing him to look at her, “You are real. Will is real. Both Wills.”

“Yeah, and you promised to help us, and you told the truth, so sorry… can we still be friends?” Mike asks anxiously, ready to move beyond this and prove to Will that Mike can be the more mature one.

El nods immediately.

“Friends.” Eleven says with a barely-there smile that makes Mike sigh with relief, guilt and fear untangling so that only a cautious wisp of it is left.

“Cool. Cool cool.” Mike says letting it sit for a second before jumping into the question he really wants to ask.

“Okay, great, so can you come help us with Will’s powers now? Please?”

El looks at Mike for a moment, tilting her head in confusion but ultimately nodding, “Yes.”

They head back into the living room, El following behind Mike before they both look at Will, who’s lying on the couch glaring at the pillow Mike handed him, turning it around in his hands like he can unlock its forbidden secrets if he stares at it long enough.

Will looks up, raising his eyebrows in an obvious question.

Mike rolls his eyes, huffs, and then confirms it with a begrudging nod.

“Welcome back.” Will says, mouth twitching into a smile, about to compliment Mike's maturity most likely, but Mike ignores that because he’s a man on a mission.

“So… how do you make stuff move with your mind?” Mike asks Eleven who tilts her head in confusion, “‘Cause Will doesn’t know how to do that.”

El startles, staring at Will with surprise.

“Brother?” She asks, a question clear in her voice.

“I don’t know how to do what you can, El. Don’t think I can either.” Will says simply, not looking all that bothered about it as he passes El the pillow.

El looks back at Will, before refocusing her attention on the pillow.

“Like this.” El states, taking a deep breath. She holds the pillow out before she starts to levitate it, hand outstretched as the tattered throw pillow starts to slowly float to the ceiling.

It’s still so cool every time, and Mike can’t help but watch.

“Hey kids, do you want… food…” Joyce’s jaw drops along with the address book in her hand as she stares at the pillow in horrified awe.

El sees Joyce and throws her other hand out to catch the address book, levitating it back up to where Joyce hesitantly grabs it, like she’s afraid it’ll bite her fingers if not handled with care.

“I—what?” Joyce squeaks out, looking between the book, El, Will, and Mike rapidly like she’s hoping she can find a rational explanation.

Will looks at his mom, fear written on his face.

Which is stupid, Mike thinks, because Ms. Byers saw everything that happened with Lonnie on the porch, barely understands what’s going on, but still drops everything to help her son in a heartbeat like always.

“Superpowers.” Mike explains, “El has superpowers.”

El drops the pillow back to the ground before wiping her bloody nose on her sleeve.

“Superpowers.” El repeats.

“Okay…” Joyce says rubbing at her tired face with her palms, “I’m… gonna go make dinner, try to call Hopper one more godda— one more time, and then you kids are going to explain this.”

Joyce walks out of the room even faster than she entered it, muttering under her breath all the while.

“Great, great, this is wonderful,” Will complains, bending down to pick up the pillow, “She probably thinks this is all so weird and insane, god why can’t I keep a secret to save my life?”

“Your mom’s cool though, she won’t get mad.” Mike reminds him, wondering why Will’s being so dramatic about this. Mike’s parents would ground him forever and send him off to some loony bin if he had powers, meanwhile Joyce Byers’ only looked a tiny bit uncomfortable.

“Can we talk about this later? My head’s killing me.” Will says, rubbing at his temples with the palm of his hand and Mike feels his head twinge in sympathy, the stress getting to him as well.

Mike runs into the kitchen, pulling a chair over to propel him to the tall cabinets that hold the Byers’ medical supplies while to grab some Tylenol while Joyce putters around the kitchen, pacing back and forth wildly as she alternates between flipping a grilled cheese sandwiches on the stove and dialing Hopper’s phone number again and again, a slightly burnt smell rising in the air. She’s too distracted to pay him much attention, yelling out into the living room,

"Food's almost ready!"

"Got it, thanks!" Mike says, twisting the cap free. He pops two pills in his mouth, swallowing them dry with a little difficulty, grabbing two more before he pockets the bottle, going back to hand them to Will.

“Here, this should help.” Mike says, dropping the Tylenol into Will’s hand.

“Thanks Mike.” Will says, taking the medicine with a quick sip of water, "Guess it's time to explain it all to my mom, huh?"

"... At least the bits you need grown-ups for." Mike agrees, nodding. The Party could totally do it all on their own, but having a police officer and a real adult join the party would really help speed things up, "That way we can get to Will without having to fight all the government guys and save him even faster than you were."

Will doesn't quite smile, but the haunted look to his eyes melts away at Mike's statement.

"Absolutely. Let's go."

🕓

It takes Will almost an hour to explain things, and even then, Mike knows Will’s leaving out as much as he can get away with.

Will doesn’t say anything about the fate of the world, for one, and the story he tells is more confusing than anything, vague and uncertain in parts, wavering on details, most of which Mike’s already heard. Shadow dimension, evil creature kidnapping people, time travel somehow, girl with psychic powers, blah blah blah. It’s easy to zone out, staring out the window and trying to figure out what else Mike could be doing to help save Will.

They all sit around the Byers kitchen table, ignoring the spilt black paint, wood chips, nails, and scattered broken light bulbs, as they quietly munch on their a-tad-too-toasty grilled cheese sandwiches. Joyce even microwaved some tomato soup, which El and Will gulp down while Mike sits there, pulling his sandwich into pieces instead of eating it.

The sun’s setting in the window, a soft orange glow bathing them all in a comforting light. El can’t tear her eyes away from it, drinking it even more intently than the food and juice Joyce poured for her.

It’s quiet now, everyone taking a moment to breathe and process.

Eventually, Joyce sighs, sweeping some junk off the table as she lightly slaps her hands down on it to get their attention.

“It’s getting pretty late, and I still need to go the funeral home. Jonathan’s been there for hours now. Not to mention Lonnie’s probably been by, and well… I can’t leave those two alone for long.” Joyce explains tiredly.

Mike still doesn’t know much about Lonnie’s relationship with the rest of the Byers beyond Will, but he does remember Jonathan escorting both him and Will out of the house, biking alongside them to drop them off at the Wheeler’s home whenever Lonnie’s mood turned particularly sour, or he’d been drinking.

“Lonnie also left his stuff here—” Joyce says, gesturing to a crumpled duffel bag by the door, “—So he’ll be back after the funeral tomorrow to pick it up, I’m sure.”

“Wait, you’re still having a funeral for Will? He’s not even dead!” Mike exclaims angrily, throwing his spoon on the table, suddenly terrified that Ms. Byers didn’t believe them after all and what was he going to do if—

“Mike, I believe you, I promise I believe you,” Joyce insists, reaching out to cover Mike’s trembling hand with hers, “But Jonathan and the entire rest of the town don’t, and I can’t—I can’t let Jonathan go through that alone.”

“Besides,” Joyce’s tone switches to an annoyed grumble, “Hopper has to be there, I can’t believe he’s disappeared off the face of the planet, now of all times!”

“We can help! Where else could he be?” Mike asks desperately, the situation starting to remind him of a few days ago when Hopper sat them all down and demanded they stay put. Adults always acted like they knew better, but Mike’s slowly starting to realize with a sinking feeling that they know even less than he does.

It’s not like they’d even be close to finding Will if Mike had listened to Hopper, after all.

But Joyce sighs as the sun finally sets completely, leaving her face shadowed in the dimming kitchen.

“I appreciate it Mike, but you should probably head home. If Hopper hasn’t shown his face in Hawkins all day, I doubt we’ll find him tonight,” Joyce says kindly, “Besides, Karen must be worried sick about you.”

Mike scoffs, but keeps his mouth shut. He’ll see what older Will wants to do first and then sneak out later tonight if he has to. That’s always easier if he doesn’t tell any adults in advance.

“And I’d love to say that you two can both stay here of course,” Joyce says, turning to face Will and El, “But Lonnie’s… probably going to come back, so it might be better to come back tomorrow morning after the funeral. Do you two have a place to stay that’s safe?”

“He spent the night in my basement! Mom and dad never check down there at night ‘cause it’s too gross, apparently,” Mike admits with an annoyed frown, “We need to meet up with Lucas and Dustin there too, they went looking for Hopper earlier.”

“I think Mike’s place will be safe for one more night at least,” Will admits, “From what I know, my Mike kept El in his basement for a whole week without getting caught.”

“Your basement…” Joyce mumbles, not quite hiding the exhaustion in her voice as Mike catches something like Karen goddamnit under her breath before Joyce sighs, pulling herself together, “What do you want to do?”

“Well, I don’t want to stay here alone, and I’m definitely not going to my own funeral,” Will blanches, face going white as he seems to realize that’s a possibility, “That’s way too weird. Sorry.”

“No no honey, you shouldn’t have to, that would be really weird,” Joyce agrees immediately with a grimace, “This whole— thing, is… unusual, but you shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Not to mention, you’re apparently a big adult now! You don’t need me telling you what to do.” Joyce says, trying to lift her voice in some semblance of cheer, but it just comes across strangled and even more tired.

“I’m only sixteen, Mom.” Will reminds her, looking exactly like his younger self when he rolls his eyes at his mom’s teasing, but it makes Joyce light up with the first genuine, if still barely-there, smile Mike’s seen on her all day.

“The same age as Jonathan, huh?” Joyce says consideringly, wondering, “I have so many questions—”

“Can they wait until tomorrow, please?” Will pleads, “I really don’t want to mess up the timeline or whatever.”

Joyce squints at him, until Will groans, “Mom, come on.”

Joyce sighs, but turns to El who hasn’t stopped staring at Joyce in amazement the entire time El’s been in their house.

“You’re okay sticking with Will for now, honey?” Joyce asks, soft and warm in the comforting way that only Will’s mom has ever been able to manage, Mike thinks to himself.

El nods.

“Well alright then, I can drop you kids off on my way to the funeral home.” Joyce says, standing up from the table and picking up the keys for her car, “Let’s go.”

They’re out the door and in Joyce’s beaten-up sedan within minutes, on a mission.

The drive to the cul-de-sac near Mike’s house doesn’t take longer than fifteen minutes, but Joyce clearly doesn’t want to leave them, peppering Will with a million questions on the drive, mostly mundane or pointless questions like what Christmas presents Will liked the best as a kid, what he wants to do in the future, and other whispered questions about the Upside Down that they discuss in hushed whispers Mike strains to hear from the backseat.

All Mike manages to figure out is that he should beg his Mom to buy him an extra copy of Mario Bros. for Christmas ‘cause Will is definitely getting an Atari.

When Joyce parks the car, her eyes start to tear up again and she grabs Will down into a fierce hug across the console, Will having to awkwardly duck down to fit in his mom’s arms.

“Be careful, honey. I’ll-I’ll go find Hopper, and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Joyce says, visibly trying not to cry as she forces herself to sit back down. Mike busies himself with pulling their bikes out of the trunk while the two hug.

Will watches Joyce drive away with a vacant look in his eyes, lost.

“C’mon, let’s go.” Mike says, grabbing Will by the sleeve and pulling him towards his home.

After a second, Mike reluctantly grabs the sleeve of El’s sweater as well. Can’t leave her behind after all.

🕓

“So: Hopper’s missing.” Dustin says, plopping down into the chair next to the table with their D&D pieces with groan.

After an awkward family dinner of Mike pushing peas around his plate for the required ten minutes, Mike ran down the steps to his basement, only to find Will curled up in a blanket, feet sticking out of El’s makeshift fort.

Will’s dead to the world, and Mike doesn’t want to bother him. El, meanwhile keeps twisting the knobs on Mike’s SuperCom intently.

“Turns out he’s been gone all day hunting down some lead,” Lucas explains, “No one’s seen him since this morning.”

“That’s what Ms. Byers said too, she kept calling him all afternoon but couldn’t get in contact with him.” Mike confirms.

“Eughhh, what is with this? Do you know where he could be?”

Mike shakes his head, “Other-Will said he didn’t know what Hopper was up to other than getting him out of the Upside Down.”

“… Is there anything else we can do?” Dustin asks, nervous.

“Hmm…” Mike scratches at the scab on his chin, itchy from where its just barely begun to heal, “Will said that the gate was in some secret lab place.”

“Can’t. Dangerous.” El inserts, “Bad men.”

“… How bad, exactly?” Lucas asks.

El raises her hand in the understood shape of a gun, “Lots.”

“Why were you and Will trapped there together?” Mike asks, remembering Will’s words from earlier.

El stares at them for a moment, contemplating something before she shakes her head, “Don’t know.”

“Wait, ‘trapped together’ in some secret lab?” Dustin interrupts, “Will never said anything about that.”

Aw crap, was that a secret?

“He mentioned it earlier,” Mike says, dismissing Dustin with a guilty hand wave, “I think they both escaped from a lab, but it’s also got the gateway to where our Will is trapped.”

Mike flips their D&D board right-side up, pulling out the graph paper he uses to sketch stuff out for unprepared encounters and begins making a makeshift map of Hawkins.

“—He didn’t say where it is?” Lucas asks.

Mike shakes his head, “No, I think he told Ms. Byers though.”

“No wait, hold up, I think we need to circle back around to the ‘Will trapped in a lab’ thing.” Dustin mentions, lowering his voice as he glances at Will’s unconscious form, “That’s… kinda messed up.”

They all pause for a second, looking the older Will over with searching eyes. There aren’t visible signs of anything, not that Mike knows what to look for, but Mike vividly remembers the blood dripping from Will’s nose and that whole… thing, from earlier.

Mike hmms, hand hovering over paper, “… I don’t think he wants to talk about it.”

The others all nod. Superhero backstories that start with lab experimentation don’t tend to be the happiest ones.

They sit in silence for a few moments, Mike finishing his quick (very rough) draft and lays it out on the board, shoving down on the corners of it with his palms to keep the edges from curling up.

“So we’re here, in my house…” Grabbing their miniatures, Mike places the Party in Mike’s house, grabbing two extra figures for El and the older Will.

Then, in the circle that’s titled “lab”, he puts the Demogorgon, and quickly shades in a black circle for a gate, “And the lab’s where the gate to the Upside Down is, with the monster inside it.”

“Our Will is in there…” Mike says, putting Will the Wise in the gate.

“Along with you from the future, right?” Dustin adds.

Mike pauses for a second. The idea of a future him feels almost too big to grasp, too impossible, and way too difficult to calculate what another version of him would be thinking.

“Right…” Mike mutters, “Future-me is with Will and I would…”

What would Mike do, if he was trapped in that situation? An older kid, taking care of his younger best friend in a dark realm…

“I’d try to escape with Will, especially if I knew how to do it from the future.” Mike thinks aloud, “So he’s also trying to… open the gate in the Upside Down or something.”

Mike places a generic NPC down next to Will the Wise.

“Okay, then how can we help? Finding Hopper was a bust.” Lucas says.

Mike puts down another token for Ms. Byers in her house, then pulls out a human warrior figure for Hopper and holds it up.

“Will said that Hopper and his mom were the ones to get into the lab the first time. He didn’t know how they did it, but if it’s a government thing… then we need Hopper to get into the lab to get to the gate—”

“—To get to the Upside Down.” Lucas finishes for him, nodding, “He’s a critical NPC.”

“I think so, yeah. Ms. Byers kept saying that she needed to find Hopper first even after we told her everything.” Mike agrees.

“Did she… believe you?” Dustin asks, squinting at Mike, “Seriously?”

Mike nods, “It took a while but… yeah, I think so. You should have seen the Byers house, guys, it was…” Mike lowers his voice with another guilty look in Will’s direction, “A wreck, but I think Ms. Byers must’ve seen some supernatural stuff so she believed us.”

“Makes sense, Ms. Byers is pretty cool for a mom.” Lucas comments, “But seriously, what are we gonna do if we can’t find Hopper?”

Dustin looks to El, “Maybe she could try to find him?”

El’s hand goes to her mouth, clumsily covering a big yawn as she blinks at them.

“Could you find Hopper, El?” Dustin asks again.

El shakes her head, “Who?”

Lucas sighs, “I think we need a picture of him, like we did with Will.”

None of them had a picture of Chief Hopper, that’s for sure.

“We can try that tomorrow.” Mike decides, “For now, let’s stick with Ms. Byers. If they team up, then as long as we’re there, we can help out. And besides, we know where she’ll be tomorrow.”

“Michael, it’s time for bed!” Karen’s voice booms down from the top of the stairs, “Say goodbye to your friends and come brush your teeth!”

“Well, that’s our cue,” Dustin stands, pushing himself away from the table, “I’ll see you boys at the funeral tomorrow.”

Mike sees them out, before heading upstairs on autopilot while his mind spins through plan after plan after plan, trying to figure out if there’s something he’s missing here. But nothing sticks out.

As Mike finally lays down, head hitting the pillow with a thump, his mind can’t stop swimming with different ways to get to Will, but it’s been a very long day and he finds himself slipping off to sleep even amidst his busy thoughts.

🕔

Chapter Text

The blaring scream from an alarm clock jolts Mike awake. Late, he’s late. Leaping out of bed, Mike tugs on the clothes from yesterday that he left scattered on the floor, no time to waste.

“—That’s not going to help, Ted! He needs—”

“You think I don’t know what he needs? What my son needs?”

“You know what? No! No, you don’t have a single clue what he needs, in fact—"

It’s a blur, the rush downstairs and out the door. His parents are fighting again, his mother’s screams grow shriller and more furious while his father’s uninterested drone gets harsher. All Mike can do is avoid it, dodging the kitchen and skipping breakfast entirely.

Especially when they’re fighting about Mike. Better to clear out before they remember he’s here. They never can seem to agree on what to do about Mike, he’s not manly enough, he’s too nerdy, it’s Karen’s fault for indulging him, it’s Ted’s fault for ignoring him, blah blah blah, Mike’s heard it a million times before.

tennis shoes pounding on the expensive hallway flooring his dad demanded installing that had already become littered with cracks somehow, catching under his treads.

Out the front door with a bang and gone long before he’ll be noticed, Mike dashes down the sidewalk. Going to pick up his bike from where he left it in the garage last night only to be stopped by—

Nancy’s wrapped around Steve Harrington like a snake, the two of them so intertwined Mike can’t make out where Nancy ends and Steve begins—

Mike turns away, gagging in disgust.

“Hahh, Steve, we’re going to be late—” Nancy whines, oblivious to Mike and the rest of the world.

Gross. Gross gross gross gross, Mike’s skin crawls, stomach twisting. If he’d eaten breakfast, it would be on the floor by now.

“Ew Nance, seriously?” Mike mutters, covering his eyes with his fingers, stumbling back and knocking over his bike with a loud clatter.

Nancy pulls away at the noise, nose wrinkling from the displeasure of seeing her brother. She glares at him from over Steve’s shoulder, announcing with a disappointed sigh, “Eugh, it’s my brother.”

Steve laughs, turning around and pulling away just far enough to face Mike, blocking Nancy from view. Steve towers over Mike, reminiscent of all Mike’s classmates, but unlike them, Steve is strong enough to beat the shit out of him.

Steve Harrington’s such a smarmy dumb jock of an asshole. Mike hates him.

“What’s wrong Wheeler, never seen two people in love before? Had to barge in and ruin a good thing, huh?” Steve asks, face deceptively neutral. There’s a spark of hatred lying underneath though, a clear indicator that things might turn ugly if Mike doesn’t go along with it.

“I-I-you’re in my garage.” Mike tries to point out, but everything about this makes his palms sweat, stomach rolling as he looks for a way out.

“Oh, I am?” Steve asks in mocking confusion, taking a step closer, “What’re you going to do about that?”

“Just go away, Mike. No one wants you here.” Nancy says, voice sharp.

Steve’s annoying, a momentary pest, but—

But Nancy? Nancy’s words hit home. Mike tenses up before he rolls his eyes, trying to playing it off even as he shoulders hunch in, hiding himself from how Nancy’s words cut into him like a knife.

“Y-yeah, whatever. Just wait ‘till Mom and Dad find out,” Mike says as he leans down to pick up his bike with trembling hands.

“You think they didn’t do the same thing?” Nancy says, tone light and playful before she strikes, “I don’t think I’ve ever once heard you talk about a girl you like, freak.”

“…Whatever,” Mike mumbles, ducking his head. His neck flushes with a shame he doesn’t understand, heart sinking to the pit of his stomach. Nancy’s being an ass, and Mike doesn’t want to deal with this, so he flips her off while wheeling his bike out of the garage, ignoring all the other crap she yells at his back.

Mike can’t run away from home fast enough, pedaling hard, heart pounding, as until he knows his own house is less than a speck of dust behind him.

It’s all a blur, a horrible start to the day that keeps Mike from noticing anything more than the cold wind biting into him, time slipping away before he can grasp it.

Pushing with all his might to crest the hill at the end of the neighborhood, Mike tries not to think about any of it, not his parents, not his sister, not anything.

Just lets the motion of pedaling push him forward and before he can blink, Mike’s at school.

The bell rings and crap, Mike’s so late as he sprints through the hallway, throwing open the door to his homeroom class with a bang.

“Do you have a slip?” A substitute teacher Mike’s never seen before asks, causing Mike’s shoulders to tense up, hunching in on himself.

“No, I was—”

“I don’t care, enjoy the detention.” The substitute drones, ignoring him entirely.

The back Mike’s neck flushes with shame, and he keeps his eyes straight ahead to avoid making eye contact with anyone, ignoring the sneering laughs from his classmates as he grabs a worksheet off the teacher’s desk.

But then—his usual desk is gone, and none of the faces he recognizes are friendly.

Even worse, the only desk remaining is between Troy and James, who look at him with suspiciously gleeful smiles as Mike moves to sit down.

“What’s wrong Wheeler?” Troy asks, leaning in while Mike tries to shrink in on himself, pulling away, “Too busy with your nerdy loser crap to get to school on time?”

The kids around him laugh, and Mike ducks his head down further, trying to ignore him. The substitute teacher keeps reading his book, not paying any attention to a class of bored middle schoolers. His normal teachers will at least run interference, keeping Mike away from Troy, James, and the group of boys they lead that push him around, but this substitute couldn’t care less.

The corner of his desk gets shoved, hard, making Mike jump in his seat.

“Pay attention when someone’s talking to you, loser.” James taunts, throwing his arm towards Mike’s face.

Mike flinches, and James laughs, “Coward.”

None of his friends share first period with him, except for Will, but Will’s… Will’s…

Where’s Will?

Mike’s too busy dodging an eraser thrown at him to think about it any further, and the rest of the class continuing on the same path, with Mike trying desperately to ignore it all.

The class drags on, each second agonizing until finally, the bell rings.

Mike jumps out of his seat, rushing out into the hallway.

He gets shoulder checked on his way to his locker, barely avoids faceplanting into the brick wall with his old blue binder falling to the floor and breaking instead, papers flying all over the hallway.

“Crap…”

No one stops to help him, stomping all over his papers. Most of them are a lost cause, but Mike feels the need to try, gathering what papers he can. Some of them have Will’s doodles on them, after all, with Mike’s clumsily written descriptions beside them, a picture of the entire Party, Mike, Will… Dustin and Lucas…

“Wait, where…” Mike mutters, the page blurring in front of his eyes.

Normally, Lucas and Dustin would have found him by now, but they too, are nowhere to be found.

Mike’s never been completely alone before, always had at least one member of the Party to sit with him at lunch. But now, there’s no one. Everyone’s disappeared and Mike’s left alone, getting shoved around.

But still, something feels off, like Mike skipped a page in a book without realizing and even as Mike finally stands on shaking legs as he runs to his locker, Mike wonders what’s going on, as every student glares at him, whispering to their friends and laughing behind their hands as they watch him stumble through the hallway.

Someone’s scrawled over his locker in sharpie, covered it with insults and crude stick figure drawings.

Weirdo, Freak, Moron, Dumbass, Frogface, and other words Mike barely understands cause him to flush with shame, closing his eyes tight to avoid looking at them.

Mike messes up the code twice because of this, accidentally turning the lock past the number in his haste, his hands sweating from nerves. The girl with the locker next to his snickers, but Mike manages to get it open eventually.

An avalanche of trash, rotten food, torn up books, and broken pencils, fall out that Mike barely manages to avoid when he steps back in shock, letting it all fall out and crash to the floor.

“Ew, Wheeler’s collecting garbage!” The girl shouts out, jumping away from Mike like he’s toxic and the whispers grow and grow in strength and Mike can’t take it anymore, turning on his heel as he shoves his way through the other people nearby.

It’s never been this bad before, Mike thinks frantically, something’s wrong.

Looking for a safe space, anything, Mike runs to the AV room and it’s miraculously unlocked.

Mike stumbles in and slams the door shut, locking it behind him because it’s not like anyone uses the room besides him now.

And no one else will be looking for Mike.

But the second that thought flashes through his brain, Mike blinks. Even if Will was gone…

Where were Dustin and Lucas?

Where’s El?

The radio in the AV room crackles to life with a spark.

“Mike…” Will’s voice comes out in a burst, desperate and rough, like he’s been sobbing and screaming, “You—run, don’t die like me, don’t die like me, don’t die don’t die don’t die die die die—”

“What—” The radio set bursts into flames that quickly catches, engulfing the equipment, smoke and flames climbing up the cords that Mike finds himself suddenly entangled in, wrapping around him like snakes slithering around his ankles and holding him in place.

“H-help! Help, please—" Mike screams, trying to pull himself free.

Mike tries to blink away the tears that start flowing because of the smoke but when he opens his eyes again…

Eleven is standing there, watching him with dead eyes.

“El!!” Mike yells at her, trying to break her out of whatever weird trance she’s fallen into.

“El, please!! I’m- I’m sorry, but I need your help—” Mike pauses, coughing violently and it’s getting so hard to breath, but Mike bangs on the door to the AV room, the door handle growing so hot it burns into his hands, but Mike doesn’t care.

El finally looks at him. And shakes her head.

“No. I do not need you.” El says, her entire form wavering like a ghost for a second in the smoke and it’s like Mike sees ten different versions of her at once, flickering wildly in front of him before the smoke clears.

It’s Eleven, turns back into the El Mike met in the woods.

El, in a white hospital gown, glares at Mike with hatred in her eyes.

She starts to lift her hand and Mike can’t help it, he flinches, closing his eyes as he stops struggling.

“Mike!--- have-- It’s—"

For some reason, Mike hears Will’s voice and for less than a second, it’s almost like Mike can see him, see a Will that’s paler than the corpse they dragged from the water, struggling to breathe but before Mike can do anything, he blinks and everything disappears.

…

..

.

Mike stands up, blinking, a biting wind blowing through him and making him shiver immediately.

“Where…?” Mike lets out, taking a stumbling step backwards when he looks down and realizes there’s no ground in front of him, just a steep drop into inky blackness.

Lights flicker in the far distance and Mike realizes where he is:

The quarry.

But instead of hiding behind a firetruck, Mike’s watching from a cliff, the cliff everyone says Will must have fallen from…

But Will didn’t fall!

Mike slips a bit and watches some of the gravel kicked up by his shoe plummet out of view into the pitch-black void of the water below.

Mike can only see specks floating in the water, squinting. It takes a few slow, slow seconds for his eyes to adjust before he can make out that the tiny splotches floating in the water are bodies.

One with a hat, bright green shirt… Another with a red jacket, dark skin… and then the last one, smaller, in a bright red vest—

It’s Will, Lucas, and Dustin, Mike realizes in horror, their bodies all bobbing in the water, unseeing eyes wide and unmoving as they stare up at him.

“W-what?”

All Mike can do is watch as they float away, slowly being pushed further and further from the shore into the pit beneath him.

El stands at the shore, her hand outstretched as she moves their bodies further into the quarry, drowning them. 

“No—” Mike clenches his eyes close, shaking his head.

And then it’s like every time Mike shuts his eyes, he sees something new, like someone keeps changing the channels on TV, flickering between them.

Blink.

“It was a seven. See you tomorrow.”

The lights flicker and Mike’s standing back in his garage, cold concrete floor beneath his bare feet as the chill of the evening floods through him but Mike notices none of it.

Because Will’s biking away, the last time Mike saw him.

Will! Mike tries to cry out to him, desperate for Will to stop. Wants to beg, plead do anything to get Will to stay the night, to not go home, please don’t go!

But Mike’s entire body is frozen.

This is all my fault, if only—

Blink.

Still in his garage, but Will’s there, the older Will, who seems so much more certain, stronger and towering over Mike.

“You really thought we’d still be friends? Yeah right.” Will snorts, looking down at Mike without a hint of warmth in his eyes, “Why would I still want to be friends with someone like you?”

Taking a step towards him, Will keeps talking, “Poor little Mike Wheeler, destined to be alone. Never able to save anyone. Leaves his friends to die, screaming and suffering forever.”

“That’s-that’s not true—" Mike stutters out, suddenly feeling the blood dripping down, covering his hands and hitting the floor in slow dark drops.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

“Will Byers is going to die because of you, you know.” Will says.

Small red stains appearing all around him, growing larger and larger and larger—

“They’re all going to die because of

Y O U!”

Will’s face turns into a snarl, twisting and cracking as his face peels away—

“Micheal!”

—

Mike gasps awake, confused out of his mind to see the ceiling of his bedroom, ceiling fan rotating slowly. The familiar blue paint chipped on the walls under a perfect white ceiling; toys and clothes scattered carelessly across the floor.

Is this real? Is any of this real?

Mike darts up, scanning the room without seeing any of it, except for the open door.

His mom’s standing in the doorway, blue eyes wide and blonde hair perfectly curling at the ends. She’s dressed all in black, watching him.

“Mike…” His mom says, voice concerned, “Honey, did you sleep alright?”

“I know you must be under a lot of stress, with Will…”

Karen is speaking, her mouth moving, sounds coming out, but Mike can’t hear a thing.

Head pounding so badly Mike feels nauseous, the entire world spinning on its axis around him. His thoughts are all a mess in his head, his bedroom getting blurrier the more he blinks, hands clenched with a sweaty grip in his sheets.

The terror and the dead faces of Will and all his friends still visible every time Mike blinks, like they never left, hiding behind his eyelids.

Mike’s face is wet, and he’s sweating, so Mike lifts his hand, wiping at it with his sleeve.

“Micheal…” Karen says softly, sitting on his bedside and reaching down to put a hand on his head but Mike flinches away without thinking, forcing an inch of space between him and his mom.

His mom notices and frowns, guilt shooting through Mike.

Karen simply sighs, not pushing the issue as she starts talking. Her words are hazy and hard for Mike to grasp onto. Something about going downstairs to eat breakfast, dressing up, going to a funeral--

“What?” Mike blurts out, voice raspy with sleep, “What funeral?”

Karen sighs, reaching out a hand that Mike moves away from. Karen shakes her head, but pulls back, saying with her softest voice,

“Honey… Will’s funeral is today.”

“Will isn’t dead.” Mike blurts out without thinking, desperate desire overtaking his common sense. Karen looks at him with such pity, her eyes starting to water.

“Michael, I’m so sorry.” Karen says, delicate and soft as a feather, breaking the news to Mike like she knows he’ll shatter.

And Mike does.

“He’s not dead! I know he’s not! It’s… this is all…” Mike’s shaking from holding in all the things he wants to say, to scream, at his mother.

“I know it’s hard, but we need to go to the funeral. For Will, okay?” Karen says, a light hand coming down next to his leg.

“No.” Mike says with force, trying to sound strong instead of terrified, “No way.”

“Micheal—”

“I’m not going! I’m n-not!” Mike says, tears still lining the edges of his eyes and making him feel like a baby, but he can’t watch them lower Will’s body into the ground. Can’t watch him die again.

“Mike, please—” His mom starts, her patience starting to wane.

Mike sees it, and snaps, fear and anger overtaking his sense in a furious outburst causing him to break all the unspoken and spoken rules that he hates, “Shut up! Shut up!! You-you—”

His mom’s perfect caring face loses its sympathy.

“I know it’s a difficult time, but that kind of language isn’t acceptable, Michael. You know this.” Karen says, face wiped clean of all prior sympathy, “Do you want to be grounded?”

Mike freezes, thoughts of being able to help Will pulling him back, “… No.”

“Then, what do we say?” Karen asks.

“… Sorry.”

“Good good. I’ve hung your suit in the bathroom, get dressed and come downstairs when you’re done.” Karen says, standing up and walking out the door without another word, her job complete.

Mike groans, sliding down out of his bed and onto the floor, arms curled tightly around his knees as he struggles to breathe.

Why was he so stupid, why would he risk getting grounded like that?! And ruin everything! Just because he had a stupid nightmare?! What a baby!

“I’m so freaking stupid,” Mike mumbles into his knees, trembling, “Stupid, stupid, stupid… crap…”

🕓

“It’s times like these that our faith is challenged…”

Mike’s never been to a funeral before. And honestly?

It sucks.

Everyone stands around, looking solemn over a closed casket while a priest rambles on about Jesus in some bizarre attempt to make Will’s death feel like anything other than an absolute tragedy.

A few people are crying silently like they knew Will (they don’t), a slow pathetic trickle of tears sliding down their somber faces. Mike feels like he’s five million miles away, mind on the blood he felt dripping down his hands last night.

This is all bullshit, fake fake bullshit, and Mike doesn’t understand why they’d host a funeral for a fake corpse version of his best friend.

“How, if he is truly benevolent, could God take from us someone so young, so innocent?” The pastor continues, as if that question could ever have an answer that satisfies.

Dustin and Lucas are standing next to him. They look bored out of their minds, shuffling around awkwardly. They clearly want to get this over with so they can go back to actually looking for Will, not quite sure what to do with how weird this whole thing feels. Ms. Byers looks similarly uncomfortable, barely keeping a distant expression through the whole service while Lonnie greets people for her. 

It makes Mike feel a bit better, to know that other people are uncomfortable with all this.

The stupid suit Mike was forced into scratches at him, the necktie around his neck too tight from where he fought his dad’s attempts at straightening it every step of the way.

“Look, Jennifer Hayes is crying.” Dustin says with a little smile, nudging Mike in the side, “Wait ‘till we tell Will.”

Dustin’s right; Jennifer Hayes is crying, the tip of her pale nose red as silent tears stream down her face.

The unfairness hits him like a train, because Mike knows that if he started crying, all the other kids would make fun of him. Why is some random girl allowed to be so emotional, she never even talked to him!

“Will won’t care.” Mike snaps, “This is all such bullshit.”

Unfortunately, Karen overhears him and hisses under her breath, “Michael! Behave.”

Mike rolls his eyes, but dutifully watches silently as they finish lowering the stupid coffin with a fake body in it into the ground. It feels like a rehearsal for the real thing, the day when Mike will lose Will for good.

“It would be easy to turn away from God. But we must remember that nothing, not even tragedy, can separate us from His love.”

Mike’s trying not to think about the funeral or losing Will but can’t stop remembering the future Will, Will’s voice on the radio, his own older voice there too. No version of Mike would leave Will to die, would leave anyone to die even if he hated them, so Mike feels a bit comforted by that at least, even if the thought of a future him is too big and scary for him to wrap his head around entirely.

But it’s like the image of that fake corpse has been burned into Mike’s memory, orange vest soaked and clinging to Will’s limp body, and Mike can’t help but fear that some part of Will is being buried in this farce of a ceremony, like the ritual of burying an effigy of Will might endanger Will even more.

“We are here today to find comfort in the truth of scripture. Let it surround Will, and his family. They will be in our prayers.” The pastor says, closing his bible and stepping away from the podium, finally.

Mike follows his parents, copying their motions without thought. Stand in a line, look at the ground morosely, following behind his family as they all throw a rose into the grave, and nodding to Ms. Byers

By the time it ends, it’s easy to dodge his mom’s attempt to grab him because she keeps asking people where Nancy went. Instead, Mike darts off to the funeral reception, hoping that it’ll go much faster than the formal part so they can all get back to what matters most:

Saving Will.

🕓

Why are there snacks at a funeral?

Mike’s felt mildly nauseous throughout the whole funeral, and he knows it’s all bullshit. He can’t imagine anyone wanting to eat cookies after watching someone they theoretically care about get buried in the dirt forever.

But then, Mike realizes as he looks around, most of the people here probably barely know Will. He’s just some unlucky kid to them, not a vital member of their lives. So, most people munch away on Nilla wafers, Ritz crackers, whatever, chatting quietly and going through some stupid performance like they have any idea of who Will Byers is.

“When d’you think we can leave?” Dustin asks, poking at the paper snack plate he grabbed. He hasn’t eaten a bite of it, piling the crackers and cookies on top of each other more to have something to do than to eat.

“That’s what I want to know…” Mike grumbles, trying to cross his arms before he remembers how uncomfortable that is in a stiff suit, arms pulling and folding awkwardly, “This is such a waste of time.”

Thankfully, Ms. Byers appears in the room, scanning it before making her way over to their table.

“Hi boys, can I talk with you for a second?” Joyce asks voice kind, if strained. She doesn’t look well, deep circles under her eyes and in ill-fitting black dress. Everyone’s giving her a wide berth, uncomfortable with the simple truth that everyone is here because her son is dead. They’re looking at her with such pity that it’s easy for Joyce to sit beside them.

“Have you seen Hopper?” Joyce asks quickly and quietly, leaning in.

“No, sorry Ms. Byers.” Dustin answers, “We looked for him all afternoon yesterday too.”

“Hopper when I get my hands on you…” Joyce mutters, clearly pissed.

“Is there anything we can do?” Lucas asks, voice quiet but sincere, “We could run by the station again after this.”

“No, no… Can you come by my place for dinner? I should have… cleared out all the trash by then.” Joyce says, eyeing Lonnie, “And bring your… friends.”

“Of course.” Mike answers, “We can do that.”

Lonnie catches Joyce’s gaze, looking over the table she’s sitting at and immediately narrows his eyes when he sees Mike.

Making his way over to their table, Lonnie gives them a forced smile.

“Hi kids. Joyce, so sorry to interrupt but the funeral director needs our input on something…” Lonnie says, going to place a hand on Ms. Byers’ shoulder that she pulls away from, glaring up at Lonnie.

“Do not touch me, I can go talk to him myself.” Joyce demands, pulling back but standing up nonetheless, giving one quick nod to Mike, “Get home safely, boys.”

Ms. Byers leaves without looking back, eager to escape Lonnie.

Lonnie asks, leaning down with a faux sympathy, “Now kids, what were you all talking about?”

“Go away.” Mike snaps. Dustin grabs him, with an intense whispered Mike, shut up!! but Mike doesn’t care.

Lonnie’s smile cracks, anger shining through before he pulls himself together.

There’s too many people watching them, Mike realizes, Lonnie can only look at him with annoyance.

“You’re that kid from yesterday.” Lonnie grumbles, before switching into a more blatantly fake concerned tone, “Please leave my family alone during this trying time.”

Lonnie walks away, quick to follow Joyce. He hasn’t let her out of his sight all day, playing the part of the long-suffering father he’s never been with more commitment than Lonnie ever showed when Will was ‘alive’.

“Asshole.” Mike mutters as he walks away.

Dustin and Lucas look at him, stunned.

“Dude, you can’t just say that about—” Lucas says.

Mike snorts, interrupting him, “You weren’t there yesterday, he was-he was horrible.”

“… Did other-Will see him?” Dustin asks in a whisper.

“Yeah—” Mike says, opens his mouth to tell Dustin and Lucas about how much Lonnie sucks, but then how cool Will was when he used actual superpowers— … No, no. That’s Will’s secret, Mike won’t tell. Not yet, anyway.

Dustin asks for a few more details that Mike refuses to give before falling silent, grumpily pushing his piles of cookies and crackers around his plate.

Their parents are too busy socializing, and the three of them too caught in their own thoughts to talk about much else, not when so many of the adults either completely ignore them or whisper about how sad it is for them to lose a friend so young.

They must look incredibly depressed instead of just mind-numbingly bored, because Mr. Clarke approaches them all with the same soft expression and kind awkwardness from the day before.

“Hey kids… It’s nice to see you here.” Mr. Clarke says,

Lucas nods at him, “Thanks. You too.”

“So how are you holding up?” Mr. Clarke asks, wide brown eyes filled with sincere care in a way that none of the other adults have been today.

“…” The three of them look between each other, uncertain how to handle that question.

“They cheaped out on the snacks.” Dustin blurts out after a long pause, causing Lucas to elbow him in the side, “Ow—I mean, this is all… a lot.”

“Hey, whatever you’re focusing on now, that’s okay. Take your time.” Mr. Clarke says.

Then, he tilts his head to the side in thought, “Where’s… Luke and Ellie was it, the two who were with you yesterday—"

“Shhhhhh!” Dustin jumps, dropping the Nilla wafers, “Don’t even worry about it.”

Mr. Clarke looks at them, lost. Before he can ask a follow-up question, Mike blurts out the first thing that comes to mind:

“Mr. Clarke, is time travel real?”

“Hypothetically, of course.” Lucas tacks on, trying to make them seem less suspicious. Mike doesn’t think it’ll help, but Lucas has a better understanding of adults than Mike does, so…

Mr. Clarke looks at them consideringly, mustache lifting in a sympathetic smile, “Of course you boys would be wondering about that right now…”

They all nod without having any idea what their teacher is talking about, waiting for him to get to the science.

“How would someone be able to travel through time?” Mike asks instead.

“Hypothetically.” Lucas adds again.

Looking thoughtfully at them, Mr. Clarke says, “There’s a lot of theories about it all, not all scientific. Most of them are based in theoretical quantum physics, which we still don’t fully understand, but what I think is most likely…”

“Now, this is a bit advanced, but I think you kids can handle it,” Mr. Clarke smiles at them, “Remember Einstein’s theory of relativity?”

“E equals MC squared.” Dustin answers.

“Yes! That’s what we learn in schools, but there’s actually a lot more to it! One major implication of the theory of relativity relates to how we experience time. Now, Time moves relative to the observer. So, for example… if there were astronauts in spaceship moving at lightspeed for a year… they would experience a year, but dozens of years would pass on Earth.”

“Like in Carl Sagan’s Cosmos.” Mike comments, “Time dilation.”

Mr. Clarke nods, “You got it.”

“So if we went really really fast, we could time travel? Hypothetically.” Lucas says.

“Hmmm, not exactly, though that’s probably an important part of it,” Mr. Clarke exclaims, growing a bit too excited for a funeral reception, “But going at a speed fast enough to distort time still lies firmly in the realm of science fiction, unfortunately.”

“That’s only for going forward through time, though…” Mike thinks aloud, wondering how other-Will could ever go fast enough to surpass time… It feels impossible, but yet…

“What if someone wanted to go backward in time?” Dustin asks, obviously thinking through the same problem that Mike’s stuck on, “Like in Superman?”

Lucas snorts, clearly doubtful, “You mean when he flies around the Earth backwards really really fast and rewinds time? That can’t be real.”

Mr. Clarke’s brown eyes crease around the edges, excitement turning into concern, “Kids, I know why you’re thinking about this stuff but going back in time… isn’t a solution, I’m sorry to tell you.”

“… We know that.” Mike points out, annoyed at the non-answer.

“Hypothetically, Mr. Clarke.” Lucas stresses, “We’re just curious.”

“Hmm… okay, but this is a bit complicated kids, and entirely theoretical might I add, are you sure you want to—”

“Yes!”

“Of course!”

“Please!”

Mr. Clarke sighs, but he’s smiling. He always likes it when they bother him about specific science stuff that’s way beyond the typical middle school curriculum.

“Well, first you’d need a-a wormhole, or something that would dilate time in such a way that a human being could travel through something like that without dying, which is impossible as of yet.”

“Okay, so if we have a wormhole: how do we control it?” Mike asks, “Like, how would someone move through time through a wormhole?”

“But hypothetically.” Lucas stresses.

“There’s a lot of theories on that, hmm… Let me explain my favorite one. Now, it’s a bit complicated but stick with me…” Mr. Clarke pulls a pen out of his pocket and grabs an empty paper plate off the table. He puts his pen to the back of the plate, a black dot appearing before he draws a straight line, connecting them all into a square.

“Okay boys, what’s this?” Mr. Clarke asks them, holding up the plate.

“A square.” Dustin says, unimpressed.

“Right. We can see all of this square at once, because we exist in three dimensions while the square is in two, but if we do this…”

Mr. Clarke turns the square into a wobbly cube, “See how it has depth now? This isn’t a perfect representation, of course, but now imagine… what would a cube look like if we added a fourth dimension?”

“Uh…” Mike says, trying to wrap his head around it.

“What?” Lucas asks, lost.

Mr. Clarke nods, “It’s hard to imagine, huh?”

“Beyond length, width, and height? There’s another dimension?” Dustin asks, squinting at Mr. Clarke.

“It’s all pretty complicated, I know…” Mr. Clarke says sheepishly, “I probably shouldn’t be talking about theoretical math—"

“No no, it’s fine, keep going.” Mike urges.

“Well okay… to put it simply… If we exist in a three-dimensional space, but can see everything happening in a 2D space—” Mr. Clarke holds up the paper plate with his square drawn on it, “Then if some sort of, I don’t know, very futuristic machine could help us reach beyond our dimension into the next… If the fourth dimension is time… Then well…”

“Just like we can see all of this square—” Mr. Clarke pokes a dot into the paper plate, then lifts up the pen and places it on the other side of the square, “We can move all around it, however we want.”

“I get it with the flat plate stuff, but you’re saying… you’re saying there’s another more advanced—thing, that can move around in time? Because the—thing can see all of it?” Lucas asks, skeptical but clearly intrigued by the way he leans in closer.

“Theoretically, yes! We’re three-dimensional beings who can’t see the full scope of our own dimension. We can only see representations or ideas of a fourth. We can see all of this square, every part of it, but we can’t see everything in the third dimension, much less see something so far beyond our minds."

“We can only experience a single moment of time, the one we’re experiencing right now, but if somehow… something could see all of time and freely move through it… I suppose they could travel back in time.” Mr. Clarke says before frowning.

Mike’s on the edge of his seat, trying to make sense of it all, but if what Mr. Clarke’s saying is true—

“But of course, Hugh Everett’s many worlds hypothesis would suggest that instead of time travel, they’d just create an alternate timeline, so really… it still wouldn’t be time travel, exactly,” Mr. Clarke concludes with a shrug, "And, even if that all was possible, if a human being was exposed to the amount of power and speed required to break the light-speed barrier... their body wouldn't be able to survive it anyway."

“Sorry kids, you’re out of luck.”

🕔

Will holds his hand out for the seventh time, fingers splayed wide as he stares intensely at the pillow resting on Mike’s lap.

Will holds the pose for a few seconds, before letting his arm drop with a groan.

“This is so stupid.” Will repeats, stepping away

“You’ve said that like six times already.” Mike reminds him.

Will’s unamused face screams “and I’ll say it a million times more, fuck off”.

Were all teenagers this difficult? Mike wonders, sinking further into the ancient chair his parents abandoned down here years ago. It creaks under his weight, causing Eleven to pull aside the curtain of her tiny fort. She checks over the room, sees Mike and Will, and goes back to coloring on some old half-finished coloring book of Nancy’s with Winnie the Pooh on its cover.

Mike pulls at his collared shirt, stretching it out while he thinks. He may be free of that stupid necktie that strangled him earlier, but the clothes his mom buys are always scratchy and constricting. At least Will gets to be comfortable when he flops on the couch in borrowed sweatpants.

It’s obvious that other-Will hates this, Mike pushing him to figure out his powers. After Mike came home from the funeral and declared that they had a few hours before heading to Ms. Byers so they should use that to practice, Will had begrudgingly agreed.

Will hadn’t asked about the funeral, and Mike didn’t want to talk about it.

“When we were at your place...” Mike says, choosing to ignore Will’s lack of cooperation, “The whole thing was different than El’s. Like one second you were standing next to me and then I blinked and you and your d- Lonnie were in different places.”

“…What do you mean?” Will asks, resting his head on the back of the couch but finally turning to look back at Mike.

“I think your powers are different than El’s.” Mike says firmly, “So we gotta try something different.”

“’We’?” Will asks a bit amused, reminding Mike of the distance between them. This older Will feels like he’s standing a million miles away sometimes, not like how it is with the Will Mike knows best and it tugs at something in his chest.

This older Will keeps hesitating around Mike for some reason, and Mike can’t tell if it’s because Will is older or if something went wrong. If the other Mike did something bad.

“I mean, they’re your powers, I know… But seriously Will, if we’re up against, I dunno, monsters and the end of the world then knowing how to throw people with your mind would help a lot.”

Will stares at Mike for a few long moments, thinking it over before his shoulders drop with a sigh, giving in.

“Fine, fine, I’ll give it another shot. Any suggestions?” Will asks, trying to smile. But it’s strained around the edges, fake, like he’s putting on a happy face for a little kid.

“Think back to when the whole thing happened. Did you do anything different?” Mike didn’t see Will do anything, he’d been completely stiff beside him, “Think a special phrase? Move your hand like-“ Mike sticks his pinkie and pointer finger out, spider-man style and makes a thwip thwip noise.

Will smile grows more authentic now, the corners of his mouth crinkling but still not seeming to realize that Mike’s completely serious, “No, nothing like that. I just…”

“I don’t know, I just got so… mad. I didn’t even feel like me, I felt like—” Will looks Mike in the eyes like Mike’s supposed to understand what Will means, but then clenches his eyes closed, frustrated.

“Like a monster.” Will finally mutters under his breath, “Like Him.”

Will spits out the pronoun like it’s the worst name in the world and Mike doesn’t understand.

“You’re not a monster.” Mike says slowly, “You’re Will.”

“You don’t know anything, Mike, I’m not—” Will groans, hands twisting the throw pillow so tightly in his hands that it wrinkles, “I’m so much worse than you think I am, but I can’t tell you because you aren’t even my Mike and he would hate me if he knew—”

“That’s not—” Mike tries to interject, but Will keeps going.

“— that I’m just like Him, that He took me because we’re the same. And now Mike is trapped in the Upside Down and it’s all my fault.”

The clock ticks for a few seconds in the silence that follows.

“… I… dunno what you’re talking about exactly, but… C’mon Will. I could never hate you. Even if the future is all weird and I grow up to be super stupid, you’re like, the best person I know.” Mike tries, meaning every word.

“But I-I lied and I—”

“So what?” Mike blurts out, “All you gotta do is apologize, gross handshake and all, and then it’ll be fine. Party rules.”

Will sighs, “It’s not that simple in the future.”

“That’s what all adults say,” Mike points out, annoyed, “And they’re wrong ‘cause they’re the ones that make stuff complicated. Besides, if… weird future Mike is anything like me then I know he’ll forgive you.”

Will raises an eyebrow at him, “Why’s that?”

“Because… I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t forgive Will for.” Mike says, realizing the truth of it as he says it, “Not because he never makes mistakes—" Mike vividly remembers the multiple times Will Byers’ stole Mike’s pencils at school and never gave them back— “But because he’s always… good, I guess.”

“Is it stupid to say I miss him?” Mike mumbles, “I know you’re here but I miss him anyways.”

Will looks at him with watery eyes, “He misses you too.”

Mike feels oddly warmed by that but…

“Is Will okay?” Mike blurts out, “I mean, were you okay in the Upside Down, in your past?”

Other-Will bites his lip and looks guiltily to the side. Mike immediately knows the answer, warmth doused immediately by the horrible reality of the situation.

“N-never mind, sorry.” Mike says, quiet and suddenly unsure.

“No, it’s-it’s okay. I never really… know how to talk about it.” Will admits, drumming his fingers on the pillow in his lap, pulling at its tattered edges as he speaks, “But I made it out alive and maybe if we-if we move quickly, we can get younger me out of there faster.”

Mike nods, mind racing. He’s been thinking of a few different plans for sneaking into the lab ever since Will mentioned that’s where the gate was located, but in order to do that…

“Then you gotta figure out how those powers work.” Mike demands, “For Will.”

Will sighs, pushing himself up from where he’s sitting next to Mike. But he seems more invested now, looking at Mike seriously, “Okay, I’ll give it another try.”

A smile bursts forth from Mike for the first time all day, thankful that he didn’t say anything horribly stupid, thankful that Will always takes him seriously.

Mike wants to help more, tries to think of what happened yesterday, why Will was suddenly capable of the impossible…

“You… felt bad, right? El said something about being really angry.” like the Hulk Mike does not say because Will secretly hates the Hulk even as he thinks it.

“Anger…” Will says, watching his open hand clench tightly into a fist, “Yeah, I guess I was angry. Lonnie’s just—" Will huffs out a breath, tensing. Mike knows better than to ask but, would never ask his Will about his stupid dad normally but…

“Just…?” Mike pushes him.

Will shakes his head, sighing as he releases the tension, “It doesn’t matter.”

Mike wants to groan, realizing how difficult its going to be to get Will Byers, the most stupidly forgiving person on planet Earth, to get angry at the things he should be angry at.

“It does too, but fine. Is there anything else that makes you angry?” Mike asks a bit desperately, “Like, can you remember the last time you got really really mad?

Will hmms, looking around the room before his eyes lock onto Eleven, who’s moved on from coloring, too busy dressing and undressing Nancy’s old dolls, digging through the box filled with her old stuff that Will must have dragged down to the basement while his family was at the funeral to pay them any mind.

“Not really? I think about all the bad things in the world and I don’t know, I can’t seem to stay angry at anyone for long except for—” Will cuts himself off again, wincing.

“Who?”

“…” Will sighs deeply, “This is… going to sound worse than it is but the last time I got really angry it was, well—”

“Future me, huh.” Mike says, heart sinking through the floor, not at all surprised.

“What’s he like?” The question falls out of Mike’s mouth and he feels a flash of shame streak through him. Not because he isn’t curious, but because the answer… 

See, Mike knows what happens to everyone when they get older: they go to high school, fall in love, get married, have kids, and they never seem to smile like it's real or do anything fun anymore.

Mike’s pretty sure he’ll follow the same path, a well-trodden road just like his parents and their parents and their parents on and on and on forever.

But Mike really doesn’t want to. Or worse, maybe he won’t be able to do it at all and then his parents and Nancy will leave him behind for real. He always feels like he’s gotta do things a certain way, follow certain rules even though they don’t make sense.

But it is what it is, and he’s pretty sure that Will’s going to say he’s…

“Why do you want to know?” Will asks gently, confirming all of Mike’s suspicions that he turns into a boring shittier version of himself. But maybe his dad likes future him better, Mike thinks bitterly.

“Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” Mike mumbles, “He’s probably lame anyway.”

Will’s eyebrows furrow and his mouth falls open in a picture of absolute bafflement.

“What?” Will asks, looking at Mike like he said he wants to join the circus.

“Never mind, never mind, seriously forget it, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know anything.” Mike says embarrassment making his mouth run faster, his cheeks flushing, “Don’t want to mess up the future.”

“Mike I— why would you even think that about yourself?” Will asks as he frowns, hazel eyes looking so sad that Mike wants to kick himself, “Future you is incredible, one of the best people I know.”

“Just like you.” Will says, utterly sincere without an ounce of doubt, “You’ve been a great friend through this whole thing. Trust me, I’d heard about how hard you and everyone else worked to try and save me but… getting to see it from this side’s really made me realize just how-how much you all did for me.”

Mike can’t handle it, blood rushing to his cheeks as Will says all these nice things that Mike has a hard time believing, a voice ringing in the back of his head telling him how useless he is.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re– You’ve always been too nice.” Mike mutters, turning his head to the side to stare holes in the wall.

“Nope, I mean it.” Will says simply, and it doesn’t make sense.

“Then why did you get angry at him?” Mike asks desperately, “He’s gotta be screwing things up massively for you to hate him.”

Will lets out a sigh, like he’s confused by the whole thing too, “No no, it’s just. Complicated. We got into a really stupid fight. I misunderstood some stuff, but so did he and it was all just—I don’t know, we ended up yelling at each other in public and I got so mad—But it was on me, I just… didn’t understand.”

“The other-Mike…” Mike says, the words feeling off in his mouth, that there’s some other version of him that exists, moving through the world carelessly… “If he messed up, even if it was an accident, you can still be mad at him.”

“Hmm…” Will lets out, unconvinced.

“You gotta get angry at the things that hurt you, Will,” Mike states firmly before finally saying a thought he’s had for years but never dared to say, “Lonnie’s a mouthbreather- no. No he’s a jackass and I hate him. And so are all the other people who are mean to you. Stupid assholes, all of them.”

Will’s mouth drops open, “You really think so?”

“Of course I do!” Mike insists, “All Dads suck, but you never deserved any of… that.”

Mike doesn’t know how to talk about this, always followed Will’s lead whenever Lonnie came up. Mike remembers the difference in Will’s face in third grade, when he’d come to school distracted and barely responsive, lost in his thoughts. The few times Mike had met Lonnie, he’d sneered at Mike and made Will clam up completely. Lonnie never paid Will a second thought, so Mike immediately hated him.

But asking about it made Will shut down even more, so instead of saying anything, Mike paid quiet careful attention to him and tried to offer sleepovers and hangouts on the worst days.

“Sorry, I don’t know if that helps.” Mike trails off awkwardly, looking away as he fidgets with the D&D figures on the table in front of him.

There’s a pause, the clock ticking away as Will doesn’t respond.

“No it’s-it’s… I have a hard time getting mad about—I don’t know, it…” Will trails off, messily crinkling the character sheets Mike left on their gaming table, “I can’t get angry at the right things.”

Mike asks, “What do you get angry at then?”

“Myself.” Will says quietly, but then seems to realize what he said before he backtracks, “Ugh, never mind that’s so stupid.”

This entire conversation has made Mike feel incredibly out of his depth, but at the same time like he’s hearing Will say things that Mike doesn’t know how to acknowledge in his own head yet. Anger, confusion, and so many words that Mike will one day understand the shape of.

But right now…

“That is kind of stupid.” Mike blurts out, “You should get mad at all the bad men instead.”

Will snorts, “We’ve already tried that one, no luck.”

“… With Lonnie nothing happened until he tried to grab Ms. Byers…” Mike thinks aloud, “Maybe you can get mad for other people?”

Mike continues, “Think of like, someone threatening the people you care about. And instead of you, think about protecting your mom. Protecting the other-you, or Eleven, or Lucas and Dustin, or even—Other me, I gue—”

It’s like Mike’s eyes close for less than a second, because Will goes from sitting beside him to standing on the other side of their D&D table, the old lamp light flickering with the sudden shift.

Mike jumps, the D&D figure in his hands clattering to the table from his shock. Mike’s been overly sensitive to everything today, but he didn’t see Will move!

Instead, Will just stands there, staring at Mike with terror in his eyes, blood trickling down from his nose, “I-I think it worked.”

Mike’s mind races, “You were sitting by the couch and then you… you were standing next to me. Like you cast Blink.”

“Is that what I looked like? For me, it felt like everything slowed down, I tried to get your attention but you—you were frozen.” Will explains, hunching in on himself as he admits in a quiet voice, “That sucked.”

“... Can you do it again? Does it hurt?” Mike asks, growing excited despite himself and despite Will's obvious trepidation. 

Will shakes his head, “It makes me a bit dizzy, but I-I think you were right, it felt different than when I—you know, yesterday.”

“I—get it now, it’s not the same as El’s powers at all…” Will says, “Huh.”

“Huh.” Mike echoes.

🕔

It’s a surprisingly slow afternoon, Will half-heartedly practicing his newly-found ability before he lets it rest. The time passes like syrup, sticky and sweet, while Will chats with Mike about nothing in particular, Eleven eventually joining in until the time comes for them to bike over to the Byers.

Meeting Lucas and Dustin along the way, they all make their way to the Byers house, where Joyce welcomes them in with an exhausted, but triumphant smile.

Lucas and Dustin were stunned into silence the second they saw the Byers’ living room, thankfully not saying anything, but looking back at Mike with the silent realization of how big this whole problem was starting to feel. Ms. Byers asked them all questions, and they all spoke quietly, and far too maturely, about the various places the three of them had searched for Sheriff Hopper yesterday.

None of them are any closer to finding a conclusion or any new information (besides some abandoned cabin in the woods Will brings up that the rest of them immediately dismiss as being way too weird, why would the police chief be hanging out in a haunted cabin during a major investigation) before the doorbell rings, followed by a loud insistent knock on the door.

“Okay, stay here while I go check who that is.” Ms. Byers announces, pushing herself up from the kitchen table and walking towards the front door.

Everyone ignores her, instead following her from a distance.

Joyce opens the door, and the rest of them are shocked to see Police Chief Jim Hopper standing there, insistently holding a piece of paper that says “DON’T TALK.”

They all shut up, but the second Hopper looks over Joyce’s shoulder and sees Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and an older Will Byers, Hopper immediately breaks the rule.

“What the fu—What?” Hopper says, helplessly confused throwing his hands up in the air, “Why—”

He cuts himself off, angrily gesturing to the sign again.

Mike and Lucas look between each other, and then hold one finger up to their lips. Dustin and Will quickly follow suit, leaving Hopper to groan wordlessly. He drops the sign, rubbing at his eyes.

Then when he opens his eyes, Hopper immediately sees the dozens and dozens of strands of Christmas lights behind them.

“Goddamnit.”

🕕