Archive of Our Own ^beta

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For richer or for poorer.

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When Will Byers is eight years old, his father hits him for the first time.

He figures it was his fault. After all, he knew Lonnie was drinking, and it was an unspoken rule that when Lonnie drinks, he should not be bothered by anyone, and if he had to be bothered, it had to be for a very, very good reason. Like if someone were on the brink of death. Or maybe if the person bothering him had something worthwhile, like money. Or more beer.

It’s not like Will meant to disturb his father. He was just…he was just thirsty. He’d been doing homework in his room for what felt like an eternity (because math homework does that to a person), and by the time he was able to fill out the last of his activity sheet, his mouth was dry. He thought that it wouldn’t hurt to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water. 

All he wanted was water. Instead, he gets an unforgiving slap on his left cheek. 

Lonnie is still yelling at him for apparently not being too quiet enough in the kitchen and scaring him, dammit! But all Will can focus on is the sting on his face where his father’s harsh hands lay for mere seconds. He grazes the area with his tiny hand and feels warmth; a burn ignited by Lonnie’s rage.

Against all odds, Will doesn’t cry.

He stares at Lonnie in stoic silence, body unmoving either out of fear or muscle memory or both, he isn’t too sure. The space between them makes Will feel like he’s actually staring at a mirror, with the older man acting as his reflection. A thought passes through his mind: “Is this what I’m going to look like when I grow up? Ugly and heartless and just plain mean?”

In another life, Will believes that maybe he would have the strength to fight back. To stand his ground and call his father out on all the bullshit, fierce and unwavering. To quickly heal all the wounds Lonnie cruelly bestowed upon him, power coursing through his veins as he erases all the hurt from his skin.

In another life, maybe he’d win. Like in D&D and all (well, most) of the campaigns he’s played before. 

But this isn’t another life, and instead Will thinks maybe he should be crying, because the slap hurt and it really was his fault and oh god, Lonnie still looks mad, that’s terrifying—

But then he can hear the disgusted voice of Lonnie in his head. Real men don’t cry. You wanna know who cries? Fairies and pussies, William. And no son of mine is a fairy nor a pussy, right?

When he’s older, he will look back at this moment and register just how fucked up this whole scenario was; how heaven forbid he could not show his own father anything but toughness if he wanted to live to see another day.

But right now, he’s a kid who’s more terrified of pissing his father off than he is terrified of his own wellbeing. That’s all he can focus on.

“Will, baby?” His mother calls as she emerges from her bedroom. She has her head wrapped in a towel and her pajamas on. Will feels bad, he knows she’s had a long day at work, and then she has to deal with…all this again. She takes one long look between the fading red handprint on his cheek and her husband’s matching palm, and calmly says “go to your room, sweetie.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He knows what’s about to happen. 

And despite feeling bad because it was his fault, he does not want to be caught up in the crossfire.

Will all but runs to his room, grabs the headphones and Walkman he borrowed (stole) from Jonathan, and begins to play whatever music his brother had. The volume isn’t quite loud enough to drown out the shouting match ongoing outside no matter how loud he turns it up, but it’s better than nothing. He settles under the covers, and when he’s sure his whole body is hidden away where nobody can see, he lets a few stray tears fall. But only a few.

He is eight years old, his father just hit him, and he is wondering if there is a god or multiple of them watching over him; thinking how they made a man so cruel, thinking if they laugh at his daily, ever-growing misery. 

He wonders if the gods (if there are truly any) will play nice and give him something, anything to help him out and help him through this.

Eventually, the music does manage to take over Lonnie’s voice in Will’s mind. 

I want to break free, I want to break free…

How very ironic, Will thinks with the slightest of smiles. He grips onto the Walkman tighter as he closes his eyes and pictures a life without Lonnie, with what little semblance of safety he has in the four walls of his room.

He imagines dinners with jokes and stories between his mom and Jonathan instead of the terse silence that comes in between Lonnie’s condescending speeches and the loud clatter of stainless steel hitting floral plates. 

He imagines coming home after school to his mom’s freshly baked chocolate chip cookies instead of empty bottles of beer and Lonnie passed out on the couch.

He imagines a home where his mom won’t cry and where Jonathan won’t yell and Will himself wouldn’t have to feel like hiding. It’s a beautiful sight in his mind’s eye.

…God knows, God knows I want to break free…

Will makes a promise to himself that he’d do whatever it takes to avoid adding more miserable situations to his family’s household. This becomes his mantra: Avoid dad as much as you can. Be better at hiding. And if you can’t avoid him…just do whatever he says, no matter what.

…But I have to be sure, when I walk out that door…

He moves one of his headphones to the side. The shouting had ceased, but someone slammed the front door. Will hopes it’s his father leaving for good. 

That isn’t the case, of course, but it’s nice to dream.

The mark on his cheek no longer stings. Will smiles, proud of himself for only letting a few tears slip past him. I’m strong, he tells himself, even if he only half-believes it. I’m strong.

…Oh, I want to break free!

Will decides to close his eyes, let the music flow, and keep picturing life without Lonnie. He keeps his hand over his cheek to remind himself that he survived. 

He can continue to survive this, gods or no gods, whether he is alone or there is somebody, anybody who could hear his silent tears and pleas. He can survive.

(On the other side of town, eight year-old Mike Wheeler’s eyes are open, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s caressing his left cheek, wondering why he feels as though he was slapped despite not doing anything to himself. He’s wondering briefly if he’s haunted by someone or something. Then, he’s wondering if he should be worried.

He’s wondering why it feels like someone close to him is in danger. He’s hoping that whoever they are will be okay. That they’ll survive whatever it is they’re going through.

The phantom pain he feels on his cheek is nothing compared to what he feels in his heart when Will tells him what had happened the next day.)

When Mike Wheeler is ten years old, he runs away from home for the first time.

He figures it was a stupid idea, because he was young and scrawny and had shit aim with throwing rocks to his defense, so he was essentially defenseless if there were potential kidnappers. Or bears in the woods.

But he just…he couldn’t stand to be at home one second longer.

Life at home became so much more chaotic ever since his baby sister Holly was born. And Mike loves her, he really does, but having a baby around is so much work. She always cries too much at night when everyone’s asleep, she always throws her food around and spits out whatever she does eat, and she’s always getting his mother’s attention.

Mike doesn’t blame his mother for being busy with Holly, nor does he blame Holly for taking up her time. No sane ten year old would also want to spend time taking care of a baby, either, so that’s out of the question.

It’s just that his mother barely listens to his rants about school anymore, and when she does she gives him a tired, borderline frustrated look that tells him she’s not interested, she has more important matters to attend to. So as much as possible, Mike keeps his distance. 

His mother doesn’t need the hassle; she takes care of every chore needed at home, takes full care of Holly, and does whatever adults do outside of the house. Mike shouldn’t be a bother.

Nancy was no different. She and Mike were growing further apart ever since she started high school. She deemed herself “too cool” to participate in his D&D campaigns and play with him in any other game. She even grew increasingly disgusted by Mike’s eating habits, which made Mike sadder than he’d admit, because she used to love the eggs-and-maple-syrup combination. 

The only way he seemed to get her attention was by arguing with her, which sucked because it used to be him and Nancy against their parents (or at least his mom). 

The only person in his family who didn’t really change was his father. Mike isn’t even sure whether that matter of fact was a good thing or not, considering his dad was…for lack of better word, a douche. He was always always always making passive aggressive comments here and there on Mike’s apparent “lack of masculinity.”

His house became increasingly suffocating to be in, and so Mike just…left. He snuck into the garage after dinner (which was yet another bad one, save for his attempt to play-argue with Nancy that ended with an actual argument and his mom scolding him), grabbed an extra set of clothes, hopped on his bike, and went away. He’s instinctively going across town to another house. 

A house that, for the past few months, has felt more like his home.

The thing is this: Mike could’ve easily gone somewhere else. Lucas was just three houses away from him. Dustin had way more space in the house, since it was just him and his mother and their pet cat. If he wanted to see an adult, he could’ve even visited Mr. Clarke, who was closer.

But nothing compares to the Byers’ house. Nothing compares to Mrs. Byers’ warm hugs, the sudden flashes of Jonathan’s camera, or hanging out solo with Will. 

When life feels like too much, hanging out with the Byers was exactly what Mike needed to feel grounded again. 

And that’s the thing. There’s just…a lot going on in his life right now, apart from what was going on in his house. School wasn’t necessarily getting harder, but there were certainly better, less boring things to do than math homework. Like reading comic books or (re)watching Star Wars or planning campaigns. School was taking up a lot of his writing time and energy, and he hated it.

There was also the case of bullying, in the sinister forms of Troy Walsh and his chrony James Whats-His-Name. The two bullies certainly became more physically violent whenever they attacked. Lucas claims it was likely because Troy’s dad had him do boxing lessons over the summer.

And speaking of the devil…

“Well well well,” Troy beams as Mike makes the unfortunate mistake of passing the Walsh house, where Troy himself is swinging his bat around. The bully steps in front of his bike and smirks. “Wheeler’s on wheels tonight, eh? Where’s the rest of your little crew?”

Mike is definitely not in the mood to deal with this right now. “Just leave me alone, Troy,” he mutters as he attempts to surpass him. 

Troy is quick, though, and grabs Mike by his hoodie before he can get any further. “Nobody goes out of my sight unless I allow them to,” he fumes. “Need somewhere to be, Frog Face?” Troy is all up in his face, and Mike is just so damn exhausted from all the crazies.

“Anywhere but here with your horrible breath,” Mike bites back. It was the wrong thing to say, of course. In split seconds, the bigger boy has his hand curled into a fist, punching Mike’s right eye. 

“Next time it’s both eyes and your teeny tiny body,” Troy sneers as he pushes Mike to the ground before stomping inside his house. Mike groans as he struggles to get up and tries to ignore the pain he feels from his eye throbbing and his heart racing. When he props himself back up on his bike, he heads forward until he can no longer see the Walsh house. He’s in Mirkwood by the time he decides to stop and look at the stars.

The stars are pretty, Mike thinks, and he isn’t sure if he’s thinking like that because he has a concussion or because he feels exhausted or both. It’s not like it’s a lie, anyway. The gentle twinkle in the dark slowly puts him at ease, but also makes him realize just how…alone he is.

When he glances at his watch, he realizes it’s probably too late to go to the Byers, that it would be a nuisance to show up at their house looking like a human punching bag. What a stupid idea to run away in the first place, he silently berates himself as he heads back home.

It’s a miracle that nobody hears the ruckus in the garage. Mike tiptoes toward the kitchen to satiate himself with a glass of water before going to bed.

He doesn’t anticipate his mother by the refrigerator light, looking disheveled as ever. “Michael?” she calls out as he approaches. “Why are you still awake?” 

“Just thirsty,” he mumbles, dread bubbling in his throat as he realizes she’s going to see a bruise on his face. 

“Wh-what is on your face? What happened?” his mother practically shrieks as she brings him closer for inspection. Mike debates telling her the truth, but figures the truth might be worse and he’d end up in even more trouble.

“I-I fell from my bed and hit my eye on one of my toys,” Mike lies. “M-my toy truck.”

His mother remains silent as she considers him, hands on her hips. Mike takes this moment to realize that he was a shitty liar, since he was in outside clothes and he didn’t own a toy truck big enough to cause a bruise. He opens his mouth, ready to tell the truth and accept his fate when Holly starts crying from upstairs again.

All at once, his mother snaps out of her scrutinizing gaze and ruffles Mike’s hair. “There’s some ice in the freezer, sweetie. I’ll give you an eyepatch tomorrow. Go get your water and get to bed, mister. Good night!” She said everything so fast as she sped toward the stairs, ready to attend to the baby.

When he’s older, he will better understand that it was messed up for his mother to brush him off that quickly, even with having to attend to Holly as an excuse (albeit a poor one at that). That it was unnatural for children his age to want to run away from home in the first place.

But right now, he’s ten years old, he just ran away from home, and he has a black eye as a result. Mike trudges to his room and thinks back to the pretty stars in the sky and pretends one of them was his guardian angel, exacting karma not just at Troy but at life itself. And he isn’t religious by far, no matter how consistent his family is with Sunday church.

He isn’t religious, but at the moment, he prays. For an easier life. For a life where Troy gets the short end of the stick for once. For a life that he didn’t feel the need to run away from.

For someone, or something, to make him feel less alone in this life.

(Across town, ten year-old Will Byers is distracted from his drawings as he clutches his left eye, wondering why it feels like it’s on fire. He wants to attribute it to a possible insect bite; after all, the mosquitoes were rampant in the forest at the time. He puts an ice pack over it and sighs at the immense relief he feels.

There’s a slight heaviness in his heart, too. A feeling of loneliness. Will takes a deep breath, scared out of his mind, and tries to ease his heart. You’re gonna be okay, he says in his head. This too shall pass. He wonders if there’s someone out there who needs to hear that, and repeats it anyway. This too shall pass.

It’s a coincidence, Will thinks when he sees Mike with an eyepatch on his right eye the following day.)

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For better or for worse.

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Will is twelve years old when the Demogorgon gets him. He doesn’t know where he is, only that the place he’s in is dark, cold, and downright insidious.

The echoes of…whatever creature was chasing him become softer and softer as he runs as fast as his little feet can take him. He looks back once and finds nothing, and doesn’t know whether or not finding nothing was ever going to be good news for him. For all the time he’s spent here—and that’s another thing he doesn’t know either, how long he’s been trapped—he’s come to learn that nothing always meant something.

And something was always a sign of trouble. Trouble means bad things.

He feels his knees buckle; feels every beat of his heart like a punch to his chest, Since there wasn’t any monster his way just yet, Will allows himself to sit down and assess his situation. He makes a mental checklist of things he does know, as opposed to what he doesn’t.

1. Wherever he ended up was some fucked-up version of the town he called home. 
2. His watch stopped working somewhere along the lines of running away from a monster.
3. There is a way to get back to his home. Somehow. He almost succeeded once, but the monster came before he could do it, and mom told him to run.
4. He’s fucking exhausted. He hasn’t eaten or drank, and he can’t remember the last time he was asleep. Or if he had even slept at all.
5. He’s all alone, and he misses home. 

The last thought makes him want to burst into tears, but he doesn’t want to risk making any noise, so he swallows the lump in his throat and looks up into the sky. Little white particles float around him like snow, and for a moment, he thinks about sticking his tongue out the way people did in movies. Maybe it’s edible. Snow is just frozen water, after all. 

If Jonathan were with him right now, he’d laugh and dare Will twenty bucks to try. He blinks away the thought as quickly as it comes. Thinking about Jonathan meant thinking about mom too, and god knows Will can’t bear to think of them right now. Not when the last time he saw Jonathan was before he went to Mike’s, a rushed goodbye as he went off to his part-time job. Not when the sound of his mother’s screaming rings in his ears; the warning to run and the promise of finding him on her cracked lips. 

He misses his family and his house so much; the warmth of his bedroom and his brother’s jokes and his mom’s hugs. It physically pains his heart to be reminded that he’s separated from them, so he stops and moves on.

If the Party were with him right now, Dustin would probably go on a rant about how snow, in fact, wasn’t just frozen water, and how it also contains debris and bacteria and other fucking pollutants, Will! Then Lucas would raise an eyebrow and rile Dustin up to eat it anyway, don’t be a pussy! It would be two to five minutes of back-and-forth arguing between them before Mike would either say cut it out! or eat the snow himself, just to piss Dustin off.

Thinking about his best friends was somewhat better, but in the end, it saddens Will. They were the last people he saw before he…disappeared. He doesn’t know if they think he’s dead. 

He hopes they don’t think he’s dead.

After all, he was a member of the Party. He required assistance in making it through this, one way or another. As Mike liked to remind them, it was their duty as Party members to provide said assistance. He had to believe that help was coming. He had to.

Will’s heart continues to pound too fast and too loud that it actually starts to hurt. Maybe it’s the adrenaline from all the running, he thinks. It’s the fastest he’s ever run, anyway.

He gets up and dusts his knees with his hands. It’s been far too long since the monster’s last appearance. The quiet reminds him of the last campaign he played with his friends before everything went to shit.

(“The Troglodytes charge into the chamber!” and the beat of calmness among the four of them, quiet laughter because hey, we can handle fucking Troglodytes.)

He takes a quiet step forward, and another, and another. He can do this. Quiet steps weren’t anything new to him, after all.

(“Wait a minute. Did you hear that?” and the sudden stillness in the air.)

There’s a rustling somewhere, but it’s too fucking dark, and so he pauses. It sounds like a skittish squirrel passing through leafy branches in the trees. Will whips his head to the left, then to the right.

(“That sound? Boom…boom…BOOM!” and how Mike’s hands slammed the table, startling everyone. “That didn’t come from the Troglodytes. No, that came from something else.”)

The rustling stops at the same time Will feels his own heart drop to his stomach. He hears nothing. Nothing means something. Something means trouble.

Trouble means bad things.

(How Mike’s eyes found Will’s, a little hint of a smirk and a sparkle in his eyes before he whips out the expected figurine. “The Demogorgon!” his best friend yells, and all the adrenaline goes to Will at once.)

The monster roars a few feet away from Will. He can see its sharp teeth as it screeches loudly in his direction. The shape of its mouth reminds him of a flower he read in a book once. Rafflesia . Also called the corpse flower, because it smells like dead flesh.

Will did not want to be dead flesh.

(“Will, your action!” Mike yells both alarmingly and encouragingly to him.)

This was an easy choice, seeing as he did not have any fireballs to throw. Cast protection! his inner Dustin-voice yells, and this time, Will does not hesitate. His once quiet pace turns into loud footsteps in record time as he turns away and runs.

And runs.

And runs.

But it’s not enough. The monster is somehow faster, as if it was satiated by something bountiful, more than enough to give it the energy it needed.

His lungs feel like they’re on fire, but he doesn’t stop. He’s twelve years old, the Demogorgon got him, and he’s running for his life. He continues his stride as he prays to anyone who might be listening to help him get out of there.

(“The Demogorgon, it got me.” was what he told Mike.)

As he runs, he wonders what Mike would’ve told him if he waited a little longer before leaving. Would he have told Will that the roll didn’t count, since the campaign was put on pause anyway? Would he have taken note of that matter of fact for when they continued playing?

He dodges the creeping vines on the ground as if he were playing hopscotch and tries to ignore how badly his body aches; how close his legs are to giving out and how much he feels like giving up. It’s even more pain than what he’s felt the past days or so. Think about Mike again, Will tells himself. Thinking about Mike helps. 

God , Will really wishes Mike were with him, it sucks being alone out here. He’d no doubt tell Will to keep going, keep trying. Mike himself would probably do something incredibly stupid (which, he would argue, was actually incredibly brave), like attempt to throw a rock at the monster to either hit it or distract it. Will would grab him by the arm, and they’d both be running to a secure hiding place, the way they did against their bullies.

He finds himself at a tree with a thick trunk, black ink oozing from the loosening bark. It’s large enough to cover his body, so he maneuvers himself to a position where he’s fairly certain the monster wouldn’t see him. 

(“Will, your action!”)

He snaps the bark in half and throws it as far away from him as possible. It impacts what Will thinks is another tree quite loudly, and so he watches as the monster growls and chases after the source of the noise. Away from him. 

For now, he’s free of the monster. 

For now, he’s left alone. 

He feels sick to his stomach; feels bile rushing at his throat. His heart continues to pound and his head starts to ache, the way it does after a solid cry. For a fleeting moment, he wonders if he’s feeling more pain than what he’s supposed to. As if…as if it was someone else’s pain he’s feeling. Silly, he berates himself. There’s no one else, just you. You’re all alone.

(In the real world, twelve year old Mike has just seen his best friend’s body floating in the river. His heart is beating so fast he thinks it’s going to burst, and his body is filled with so much hurt. His legs ache as he pedals to his house, tears blurring his vision.

“He can’t be dead!” Mike cries into his mother’s neck. He can’t be. He couldn’t have died all alone without anyone…without me…to be there by his side.)

Mike is twelve years old when he first loses his best friend. If he’s being honest, he’s on the verge of losing himself, too.

It’s been seven days since he called Will to make sure he was still coming over for the campaign, six days since Will rode away from his garage, and five days since he found out Will was missing. 

Five days since he met Eleven. Four days since he figured out she had powers. Three days since he saw a dead body that was Will but really wasn’t. Two days since El made Troy piss himself. One day since he physically fought Lucas. And less than twenty four hours since he jumped off Sattler Quarry.

The past week has felt like a goddamn lifetime for Mike, yet he has never felt more…alive. Or at the very least, has never felt more of a need to keep himself alive. Despite the fact that throughout the day, his breathing has been uneven, as if he couldn’t breathe. As if something was tightening around his torso, lodging down his throat to kill him from the inside.

I did almost die today, he reminds himself. That’s probably just it.

It’s a cold night. Mike takes a deep breath as El leans damp and exhausted beside him, trying his very best to calm down. He can’t stop glancing at his watch, can’t stop the thoughts racing through his mind, can’t get rid of the wind that blew past his face as he went down down down the cliff—

“Mike?” El calls, snapping Mike back to reality. He turns to face her, and there’s a glint of worry in her tired eyes. “Okay?” she asks.

He wants to tell her he’s okay, he really does. She doesn’t need any more on her plate after what she went through while she was in the bathtub.

The bathtub. Where El found Will, where Mike heard Will’s voice, weak and frail but alive. But where El also saw Barb gone (which really means she was dead), where El ended up screaming and almost drowning herself in the water, where he heard Will’s voice, but then with his hope comes a dreadful voice gnawing at him, saying he’s as good as dead, you haven’t done enough to save him—

“Guys, this is crazy! We can’t just wait around!” He says, standing up, impatient and unable to keep still. Lucas and Dustin are looking back at him incredulously.

“Mike, in case you forgot, we’re still fugitives,” Lucas reminds him. “The bad men are still after us!”

“Yeah, and we don’t even know where your sister is,” Dustin adds. Mike is agitated, because the problems they’re naming aren’t as important as not being able to do anything for Will.

“El can find her!” Mike argues, and Dustin fixes him with another incredulous look.

“Mike, look at her!” he cries, and Mike whips his head around. El gives him a tired smile as she rests her head against her knees and practically swims in Chief Hopper’s oversized flannel. Mike smiles back quickly, feeling a pang of guilt because El has done so much already for him...for them. 

He knows he has to repay her somehow, some way. She deserves anything and everything she wants.

But then Lucas and Dustin are yapping about how they should stick to the chief’s plan, how keeping El safe and out of sight was the most important thing, and Mike feels a flare of annoyance surge in his chest, because yes, making sure El would not be taken by the bad men was pretty damn important—

—but finding Will alive? That was the most important thing to Mike. 

His two other best friends are off finding a hidden stash of chocolate pudding, and Mike scrubs at his face trying to get the increasing heaviness off of his chest. Every second that went by with no Will added to his anxiety, but he had to be strong. 

Every second that went by with no Will also meant that the bad men didn’t get him. At the very least, that’s one thing Mike can be relieved by.

“Come on, El,” he sighs, extending his hand forward for his new friend to take. “Let’s go see if Dustin can get you some of that chocolate pudding.”

She smiles slightly as she intertwines her hand with his. This is nice, Mike thinks. He’s holding hands with a girl who’s not repulsed by him. Their arms swing back and forth as they reach the cafeteria tables, like those cheesy couples Mike’s seen in the movies Nancy watches. 

“Mike! I found the chocolate pudding!” Dustin yells in the background. Mike winces as he and El take a seat. He shouts back an annoyed “Okay!” as El giggles beside him.

“Are you feeling any better?” Mike asks as he studies her. El shrugs and gives him yet another small, meek smile.

I have to repay her, Mike thinks again. El was like his savior, like Superman arriving at his doorstep when he found himself weak and worried and useless. He was ready to give her all the good things in life that she was unfairly robbed of by those stupid bad men.

He’s blabbing about how his mother can make her proper food, how they can set up a nicer bed for her in the basement, how his family can care for her. He thinks about how excited he is to introduce her to Will, because something just tells him they’d get along great. 

It’s still not enough to repay her. She’s asking if he’s going to be like her brother, and well… fuck no. That would be weird, because…

…because one way to repay her is to give her all the love in the world. All his love, like how Lois Lane gives all her love to Clark Kent. Like that kind of love. He blabs yet again about taking her to the Snow Ball, hoping she can understand what he means, even goes so far as kissing her, because for some reason it tugs at his heartstrings and it just feels weird to acknowledge the possibility of him being her boyfriend.

It’s a quick kiss, because he sees headlights in his periphery, and he shakes off the awkwardness by excusing himself to check on Nancy. He doesn’t know how El felt about the kiss. He hopes it didn’t freak her out.

All thoughts of awkwardness are quickly erased when it is in fact not Nancy, but the bad men. Suddenly, Mike and the others are running back and forth, left and right, trying to get away. One minute they’re cornered, the next there are bodies all over the floor.

And the next minute, the Demogorgon arrives, hungry for the corpses that lie beneath them and more .

They’re trapped in Mr. Clarke’s classroom, El heavy in his arms. For a split second, Mike is thankful that the Demogorgon was not attacking Will, and hopes the adults can find him soon. 

The lights are flashing so fast that Mike feels dizzy. He and Dustin are yelling as they hand Lucas their makeshift fireballs; measly rocks in an attempt to fight off the Demogorgon.

But, just as in his campaign, it doesn’t count. It doesn’t work, because the Demogorgon was still alive, and holy shit—

El, sweet El, once again comes to their rescue, in spite of her exhaustion. Mike tries to get her to stop, because she’s done enough, but then she pushes him away to face the monster on her own. 

And then she’s looking back, a goodbye, Mike softly on the tip of her tongue, and then she’s gone. He calls out for her, tears leaking from his eyes like the blood that leaked from all those now-dead bad men. 

All the promises they’ve made seconds ago are now broken, all the plans he’s made in his head now an impossibility, all the reassurances that everything was gonna be okay now faded away into spores.

Everything that happens after is a blur. There are ambulances and police and his family outside the school, waiting for him. Mike is engulfed in his mother's arms before being taken back home. Exhaustion hits him like a tow truck, and all he wants to do is lie down and rest and maybe cry some more.

And then he can't even do that, because some fucking government agents waste no time wanting to question him.

He is twelve years old, he lost a new friend, and he’s past the verge of losing himself. But then he remembers one thing.

Will.

If the bad men are gone, and if the Demogorgon is gone, then there’s a high chance that Will is alive . Think about Will again, Mike thinks to himself, as he sits down and prepares himself to be interviewed. Thinking about Will helps. 

He’s past the verge of losing himself, evident by how his tough shell breaks and how he cried in front of his friends and family and how weak he looks in front of authority.  But he holds onto the hope that Will is okay. He knows for a fact that his best friend would do the same in his position.

Will is okay, Mike repeats even as he cries. He won’t be alone anymore. He is alive and okay and I will believe it unless I’m proven otherwise. He repeats it like a mantra; keeps the thought of Will alive close to his still strong, beating heart as the most important thing to think about.

(In the Upside Down, nearing the Right-Side Up, twelve year old Will wakes up from what he thinks is a nightmare. He’s awfully cold, he’s hungry and thirsty and fatigued, but his mother and the chief of police are there. He can feel the thump thump thumping of his heart again as his breathing begins to deepen.

Will doesn’t remember much of what had happened before he woke up. All he remembers is inky black vines around his torso, something slimy creeping down his throat, and then…

He remembers darkness and then light; a force as strong and stubborn as gravity pulling him back to earth, a whisper of he’s alive, he’s okay from a voice he feels he knows, and a heart that he can’t tell is his own or not overflowing with strength, energy, and love. )

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

In sickness and in health.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

At thirteen years old, Will is certain that there’s such a thing as hell.

It’s not somewhere you go to when you die, as he was taught growing up. No, hell is felt by the living. It’s manifested through people and places and feelings— all of which are part of reality .

Will’s first encounter with hell was in his childhood, when Lonnie did nothing but drink and hit and yell. The next encounter was when he was kidnapped and dragged into what the Party calls “The Upside Down.” And in between those encounters, he meets hell with his bullies, with the whispers in the hallways, and with the doctors of Hawkins National Laboratory.

Very recently, his encounter with hell is a dark, looming, shadowy figure that creeps into his mind day and night anytime it pleases. At first, Will tries his hardest to fight it, like how Bob fought Mr. Baldo and made him go away. 

But he’s not Bob, who’s smart and quick-witted and brave. Suddenly, Will feels connected to that shadow. Hell is no longer just surrounding him, it’s within him, too.

They say hell is hot; red and angry. For Will, hell is the opposite. It is cold, mostly quiet, and a tad bit too calm. 

Just how he likes it.

He senses its anger, hurt, and loathing…but to what exactly, he isn’t quite sure. In the back of his mind is a yearning for death and destruction; evil schemes falling into place. There’s something else he feels, too. A feeling he can’t quite comprehend; something he can’t share with the doctors, nor with his overbearing family and friends.

He feels…stuck. Not just stuck between reality and not-reality, but stuck as in…

…as in stuck carrying a weight on his shoulders. Like he’s holding a tank filled with water using his teeny tiny arms, and at any given moment, he’s bound to stop and break and snap.

And Will has thought about bringing it up, he has. It’s just that he can’t finish a singular sentence without his mother phoning Dr. Owens, without Jonathan offering him things he doesn’t need, without Lucas and Dustin quieting down and shying away. 

There was Mike, though, who was probably the best and only person who could come close to understanding what and how he was feeling.

(“If we’re both going crazy, then…we’ll go crazy together, right?” Mike asks, a twinkle in his eye, a reassurance that Will wasn’t alone in this.

“Yeah. Crazy together.” Will replies, and for a moment, everything is more than okay.)

Will watches his best friend work with his mother and Bob. They’re running around his house, trying to unscramble the puzzle—no, not the puzzle, the map—that he made with his sweaty, bare hands. 

He tries to ignore the groans and roars of monsters that echo in the back of his mind. Mike catches his eye, and concern immediately shines through his face. “Are you okay?” goes unspoken. 

“I’m okay,” Will nods. Mike frowns slightly, but decides not to push it, instead nodding once and turning his attention back to the adults. Will sighs in relief and feels his cheeks go warm at just how…understanding Mike was to him. How it was only Mike who never failed to provide Will the comfort he wanted and needed.

Because you’re friends, a voice in his head reminds him. Mike is your friend.

No! Will shakes his head in disagreement. He’s not just my friend. He’s…he’s my best friend.

He’s special.

Will snaps out of his train of thought just as Bob tells his mother his best guess on where Hopper might be, and suddenly they’re on the move. He and Mike are cramped in the backseat as his mother slams on the accelerator, no time to waste.

“Hey,” Mike nudges him. “Could you try to find Hopper? In your now-memories?”

Will gulps. “I-I don’t know if I can,” he confesses. “I’m afraid the shadow monster will come after me.”

I’m afraid he’s already here.

Mike places one hand over his just like he did earlier in the day, and since when was his hand shaking? “He won’t come after you,” his best friend says indignantly. “I’ll be right here with you, okay?”

Do it.

With one deep breath, Will closes his eyes. Almost instantly, a vision comes into his mind; dark tunnels with slime and vines and hints of blood all over. He’s like a bird, zipping through too fast, too strong, too soon—

Focus.

He feels a squeeze on his hand. “I’m here, Will,” Mike whispers, not letting go. Will focuses on his best friend’s touch; smooth, bony fingers rubbing against his sweaty ones. 

It grounds him. Keeps his head clear enough.

Every tunnel looks the same, and for a brief moment, Will is hit with a pang of frustration. How does Eleven even do this? He wonders.

But then swiftly he catches movement; sees a large figure wandering around, squelching footsteps and the sound of a cough every few seconds. A few feet away, Will can see the vines slither towards the chief. And from a further distance, there’s the crackle of tires hitting gravel. Tires that aren’t from the car he’s riding.

Someone else is coming.  

Will opens his eyes to see where they are. “There’s nothing. There’s nothing here,” Mike states, and well…he’s not exactly wrong. The view outside the window is just open fields and the inky black sky. 

His mother and Bob are arguing again, something about vicinities and precision and how the scale-ratio isn’t exactly one-to-one, and he tries again to find Hopper; tries to give his mother directions that could lead them to him. North, south, over and under, back and forth, left and—

“Turn right,” he gasps. “I saw him in my now-memories.”

When Will is older, he will laugh about how insane his mother’s driving was that night. He’ll tease her when she berates him or Jonathan for their driving. “Hey mom, remember when you broke a speeding law when you didn’t actually need to? When you almost crashed the car against the chief’s? She’d glare back playfully and argue that her loved one was in danger, you totally would’ve done the same!

Right now, though, he’s holding onto dear life as they go off road…or rather, he and Mike are holding onto each other. They’re all screaming as his mother hits the sign, hits the hay,  hits the brakes and they just barely survive a near-collision.

“Are you okay?” she asks, and Will wants to laugh. There’s so many things about me and about everything happening that aren’t okay, mom.

You don’t know what’s coming.

“Superspy,” Mike says, looking straight at him out of breath and full of admiration. Will feels his cheeks burn ever so slightly. 

Superspy. Isn’t that the truth?

Against his objections, his mother and Bob go down to the tunnels. Will feels a twinge of pain in his insides as he watches his mother stab the vines to uncover the manhole. Echoes of Bob's disbelieving voice rumble through his mind.

"Are we in Will's map?!" Bob asks incredulously. 

It's more than just my map. It's a mind…my mind. A part of me, of us—

Mixed between Bob's voice are echoes of monsters. Screeches and bellows and slimy stomps going in one ear and out the other. Will can feel himself beginning to sweat once more, and he's sure it has something to do with stress and the sounds in his head, because it's a cold night, but not cold enough, he-no, I like it cold—

"Hey," Mike nudges him. "You're sweating so much. Let's go outside and get some fresh air, yeah?" 

Will nods, once again ever so thankful for how gentle and considerate Mike was.

He's so special.

They go out, and yeah, the chilly breeze of evening autumn air whipping past his face really helps. He looks at the manhole once more and visualizes the tunnels underneath; tries to see where his mother and Bob could've gone.

Suddenly…he sees something. An image of Hopper, intertwined in black vines like a caterpillar trapped in a cocoon. It squeezes everywhere, from his legs to torso to his neck. Will can hear the chief's faint breathing.

"Do you see anything?" Mike asks. "I mean, in your now-memories?"

Say nothing.

Will shakes his head slowly, unwilling to look at his best friend in the face, because Mike could easily call bullshit on his lies.

Or could he?

A noise in the background distracts him from his thoughts. He turns around at the same time as Mike, and sees headlights after headlights drawing nearer to them.

No, he thinks, eyes widening and internally panicking. He looks to Mike, who looks back at him in confusion. One by one, cars and vans surround the hole. A person in a Hazmat suit jumps out from one of the cars and approaches them.

"You kids shouldn't be here!" Hazmat suit guy scolds, and Will recognizes the voice as one of the scientists from Hawkins National Laboratory. "It isn't safe."

It isn't safe for you indeed.

"The Chief of Police is trapped down there, and some people are looking for them," Mike explains.

Another person hands Hazmat suit guy what looks to be a flamethrower, and Will can feel his heart drop down to his intestines. "We'll find them and get them out," Hazmat suit guy assures them, readying the flamethrower. "In the meantime, stay here."

No. They should not do this.

Hazmat suit guy and his crew go down to the manhole. Will almost follows, wants to warn them of the possibilities that could happen, but—

Something holds him back.

Let them come. They will see what payback means.

One minute, Will is watching the people from HNL speak into radios, go down into the tunnels, and collect samples from the ground. Chaos everywhere he looks. The next minute…

Fire. Torching. Screams.

…he's on the soiled ground, feeling as though he's actually being burned alive. Distantly, he can hear Mike calling for him and Mike's hands shaking and gripping him, and fuck, Will needs to grab onto Mike back—

But there's more flames, more pain , and suddenly Will's entire body is vibrating—no, he's seizing, blood-curdling screams that sound nothing like him escaping from his mouth.

Hell is meant to be cold, but they keep wanting the heat.

And that is not how he likes it.

(It's even more chaos than before, the way Joyce is cradling Will, yelling at Bob to step on the goddamn brakes and get them to HNL faster; the way the quiet streets of Hawkins are disrupted by speeding cars, the way there are actual Demogorgon-like creatures running around beneath the town as they speak.

But all Mike can think about is the way his entire body ached the moment Will was on the ground, as if his lungs were on fire and he was being burned, too.)

At thirteen years old, Mike puts a name on the pain he had been feeling for, well…a long time.

The concept of soulmates is one that’s only recently been addressed across town, after new research from Hawkins National Laboratory was released to the general public (although he and the rest of the Party had their suspicions that the research was released as a distraction from Will and El and the Upside Down). 

The reports date back to the mid 1950s, where an unidentified woman claimed to hear the voices of a singular man in her head. At first, doctors believed that she was mentally ill; she had been diagnosed with schizophrenia and subjected to electroconvulsive therapy. It had only been two weeks after her treatment that the exact man she heard had appeared in front of the facility she was confined in, demanding her immediate release.

Over the 1960s and early 1970s, more and more pairs (most of whom were married to each other already) started discretely coming forward to the lab to describe their…connections. And it wasn’t just a mental link that signified soulmates. There were matching, identifying marks (they could be tattoos or first words). There was the string of fate (initially, it was the red string, but it was discovered that there were different colors depending on the pair’s color palette). And so much more.

Usually, it was the typical man and woman paired together. It wasn’t until the late 70s when the concept of having more than one soulmate was introduced, after a man and two women came forward to claim that they shared the exact same mark in the same location on their body.

That particular case caused a controversy, not just to the scientists researching, but also when that information was passed around. For one, many were appalled by the polygamy of it all. For another, many were disgusted by the homosexual implications of it all, especially since it was alleged that the two women pursued a romantic relationship before meeting their third soulmate.

Since HNL decided to release this, the mayor encouraged Hawkins residents to visit the lab and see if they were soulmates. HNL themselves also allegedly promised future technology that could help people identify their soulmates even without meeting them.

Mike himself originally doubted the idea of soulmates. After all, he knew his own parents weren’t soulmates. His mother said she had a crescent-shaped mark on the back of her neck, while his father…well, he didn’t say what his identifier was, but it certainly was not a matching mark.

He asked other people about it, too. For a time, Nancy was convinced that Steve Harrington was her soulmate…which, ew, in Mike’s opinion. Dustin was skeptical about it, wanting to break into HNL and retrieve more experimental research about it. Lucas was more or less neutral about it, but his stance was that “It doesn’t matter if you have a soulmate or not. What matters is the effort you put in to make sure the relationship works.”

Wiseass, Mike thinks fondly, although it was a sentiment he did agree with.

The only one who was open to the idea of soulmates was Will. 

(The conversation about soulmates happened a few weeks after Will arrived home from the hospital. Mike had been adamant on Will sleeping over for the entire weekend at his place. Mrs. Byers eventually agreed—on the condition that Will calls her at least three times a day—and so the two of them took reign of the whole basement.

“How are you feeling?” Mike asked, because he knew at this time around, Will would give him a different answer. In front of Lucas and Dustin and the whole of Hawkins Middle School, his best friend had put up a front that he was doing okay. And maybe that was true, but…

…Mike knew Will.

“I’m tired,” Will admits. “I mean, I sure got plenty of rest at the hospital, and the teachers are easier on me. But I’m tired of all the interviews with the scientists and…the dreams.” He looks at Mike, a frown on his lips. “I sometimes dream that I’m back there…in the Upside Down. And in the dream…there is so much pain.”

Mike mirrors Will’s frown and inches closer. “You’re back in Hawkins,” Mike reminds him. “You’re safe and alive.”

Will shrugs. “I know.”

It’s a few minutes of companionable silence; Mike rummaging through his family’s VHS collection, and Will doodling on his notebook. “What do you think of soulmates?” Mike asks suddenly.

Will raises an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“I just remembered that HNL released the whole Soulmate Research thing a few days ago. A lot of people are calling bull on it…but lots of others believe it to be true,” Mike shrugs. “Dustin thinks it’s bull. Lucas doesn’t care for it much. What about you?”

His best friend adjusts his posture, sweater paws at his wrists. Mike smiles at how goofy Will looks. “I mean…I’d like to think there’s at least someone out there for everyone.” Mike perks up and scoots closer, nodding at Will to continue. “I know my own parents weren’t soulmates, so maybe it’s hard to believe. But it’s nice to think that…you’re never gonna be alone in this world, you know? No matter how…different you are.” At this, his voice softens and turns…sadder.

“You think you’re different?” Mike asks, slightly confused. 

“I know I am,” Will replies, looking down. “I mean…sometimes I still wonder why it was me who got dragged to the Upside Down, you know? That alone already sets me apart. And then everyone else makes me feel different in a bad way. My dad did. Everyone at school does. Even mom and Jonathan…the way they’ve been acting even recently…it just makes me feel bad about myself. Even if I know sometimes, they don’t mean to.”

Mike goes quiet. “D-Do I make you feel bad? For being different?” He asks, meekly. Will is immediately shaking his head.

“You’re the only one who doesn’t make me feel bad for it,” Will assures him, smiling a little. “But anyway…yeah. I believe there’s someone out there for me. Maybe they feel the same as me in some way. I’d like to meet them one day. Wouldn’t you?”)

For a time, Mike thought he was too much of…a loser to have a soulmate. But Will’s words impacted him like bricks. And so for a brief moment, Mike believed El was his soulmate.

Crazy…but he felt as though she was the first one to really understand him as a person. And who wouldn’t love her as a soulmate? She was pretty, she was kind and brave and a real badass. Seriously, a superhero soulmate? The idea of it made Mike giddy. At least for a bit.

Because…the idea of El being soulmate felt…not wrong per say…but weird. Maybe it’s because he didn’t know El all that much. Nonetheless, he still missed her, and tried calling out for her every night to (of course) no avail. 

That was his first sign that maybe…they weren’t meant to be.

And then November 1984 happens, when he gets his confirmation of who his soulmate truly was.

One thing about Mike Wheeler is that he is attuned to Will Byers. Has always been, and everyone said it was because they were the bestest of best friends. Mike always knew how best to take care of Will, and vice versa. Will himself even said so. They had a strong connection.

A connection so strong that Mike could literally feel whenever Will was in pain.

It’s why Mike had felt phantom bruises all over his body as a kid; the same time Lonnie physically harmed Will. It’s why Mike felt pain in the spots the bullies used to hurt Will.  It’s why Mike could feel Will’s seizure as his own; why he could feel his own heart bursting into seams while seeing Will’s heart rate on that vital signs monitor.

So yeah, Will Byers was his soulmate. And for a minute or so, Mike was relieved. Happy, even.

After all, having your best friend as your soulmate? Pretty fucking awesome.

But then just as minutes come and go, the happiness faded quickly. Mike remembers the prejudices that…soulmates like them could face. The disgust from other couples…couples who were man and woman, united as one. The hate crimes that queer people face, whether soulmates or not. He’s seen the news on TV and snuck a peak at the news headlines his father attaches himself to nearly every morning.

He looks at his best friend’s unconscious figure on the couch, so still, as if he’s a statue. Everyone else is busy preparing for the interrogation.

Or a corpse…like the fake one of Will that Mike just last year. He tries to push the memory away.

Mike knows that if he and Will did something about their connection (if Will even wanted that with Mike)…it wouldn’t end well. It was bad enough that Will himself was already taunted around Hawkins as…bad names Mike can’t even bear to think about. It was worse paired with the fact that Will felt different in more ways than one, and that was already a lot for Will to handle.

“Hi, honey,” a voice suddenly greets from behind. Mike startles and sees Mrs. Byers, who looked a bit freshened up from a few hours prior. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” Mike replies, and it’s the truth. So much has happened the past few hours: Will being fully possessed, the scientists and Bob dying, almost dying himself…and finding out his best friend is his soulmate.

“I wanted to thank you,” Joyce states.

“For what?”

“For being by Will’s side these past few days. Y-you must really love him, don’t you?” And shit, Mike’s heart is in his throat that he almost chokes. 

Deep down, Mike knows Mrs. Byers just meant platonically. Friends love friends, after all. He’s heard the girls at school say it to each other on multiple occasions.

“I-I mean…he’s my best friend,” Mike replies instead, praying Joyce wouldn’t eye him suspiciously. “I’d do just about anything to make sure he’s safe. And okay.”

That’s the most truth he can offer his soulmate’s mother. Joyce smiles gratefully and wanders off to the shed, likely going through the plan once more with Hopper.

And maybe it’s the impact of Mrs. Byers’ words. Maybe it’s the stakes at hand, of possibly losing Will forever, again. Maybe it’s because Mike’s realizing his true feelings for Will that makes him that much vulnerable in the shed, that for Mike, Will was everything.

(“It was the best thing I’ve ever done,” he states, tears in his eyes, his biggest truth spoken out loud, at the same time hidden in plain sight.)

Will was everything to Mike. Will is who Mike is just about sure he’s going to love forever. Will is the one Mike is going to make sure is alive and okay for…for the rest of his life. No matter the pain he would no doubt endure.

It’s why he’s so adamant on going into the tunnels in spite of the possibility that he couldn’t hide their connection, in spite of knowing how hurt he himself is going to feel. It’s why he’s quick to soak the tunnels in gasoline and set everything on fire. It’s why he endures the burn he feels on his side; slipping down onto the slimy ground just in time for the vines to catch him, and playing it off as him being clumsy when Steve rescues him.

It’s why, during the Snow Ball, he decides to push Will towards that lame, stupid girl for a dance. Why he decides to kiss El, despite being hesitant when they last almost kissed.

Mike knows his soul will be intertwined with Will’s forever. But he also knows the stakes of being with him as his soulmate. It’s not a risk he’s willing to take, not with everything else Will has gone through and may continue to go through.

It’s not like I’m the only one in the world not pursuing my soulmate, anyway, Mike reminds himself, as he continues to dance with El, and ignores the way his heart sinks down.

(At the same time, a few feet away, Will is awkwardly swaying and smiling with his dance partner, feeling bits of his heart shatter at the way Mike looks at El, feels the nausea that threatens to spill from him like the slugs that attached themselves to his body for the whole year.)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

To love and to cherish.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

It's when he's fourteen years old that Will finally realizes his feelings for his best friend.

You'd think that after getting transported into another dimension and being possessed by a monster in said dimension would prepare you for just about anything.

Then again, Will supposes that otherworldly creatures are no match for the rollercoaster that is love.

Love is something Will is intimately familiar with. He has his family's love, something he's sure to be grateful for everyday. He has the Party's love, and despite the changes over the years, he knows he can count on them.

But romantic love? Now that's an entirely different story. Made even more complicated when you're in love with your best friend, who happens to be a guy, and who happens to have a girlfriend.

If he's being honest, he should've seen his feelings come. Mike has always been different for Will. At first, he attributed it to the fact that Mike was his first best friend. "Firsts are always special," his mother used to say. 

It's just…it's more than that. Will has this connection with Mike that he can't seem to share with anyone else.

A connection like…a soulmate connection.

He's heard about the stories of soulmates from the gossiping scientists of HNL and the tirades from Dustin calling bullshit. And well, he's always been open to the idea of soulmates. Maybe it's the small part of him that loves to love. 

What was it he told Mike once before?

"But it’s nice to think that…you’re never gonna be alone in this world, you know? No matter how…different you are.”

"D-Do I make you feel bad? For being different?” “You’re the only one who doesn’t make me feel bad for it."

Will is an idiot. Of course he had been referring to Mike, even then.

He hasn't had any solid proof, of course, especially now that Mike is with El. In fact, Mike has been spending so much time with El, lately, that Will thinks they're soulmates.

In theory, it would make sense. Or at least…the classic fairytale sense. After all, Mike did stumble upon El by chance…or so he's said many times. She's this amazing girl with a beautiful smile and a heart so big—who wouldn't want her? And Mike…Mike is this nerd who thinks nobody wants him—ridiculous and stupid as that sounds to Will’s ears—and yet he’s got the girl.

Will likes to think that maybe the stars aligned for them on the day they met.

So yeah, it’s highly possible that Mike and El are soulmates. And Will is content with that; content to love Mike from afar and keep him as his best friend.

It’s just…Mike doesn’t even feel like his best friend anymore. Not with how much he’s been ditching him and the rest of the Party to spend time with El. Not with how suddenly uninterested he became when it came to things they used to love doing together.

Not with the words he said in that fight in the humid, pouring rain.

“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

The rational part of Will knows Mike didn’t mean to come off that way. After all, Mike just had this tendency at times to say things in the wrong way, far from what he means, too emotional all at once that he can’t stop and think about the words that slip out of his mouth.

But he was just too hurt, too angry to care.

He crumbles beneath the ruined Castle Byers, summer rain hitting him as hard as Mike’s harsh quips did. He’s crying, and god, his heart hurts so bad. He has half a mind to dry up and attempt to calm down back at home, but then—

Goosebumps trail across his skin, and then comes a tingle at the back of his neck. Anger melts away into alarm as he rubs at the spot, just as Mike and Lucas come into view.

“Will! Will, what’s wrong? A-are you okay?” Mike asks, slowing down a few feet away from him. Will turns to him, fear crawling at his skin.

“He’s back,” Will states, and the worry on Mike’s face melts into panic.

“Y-you mean…?”

“Yes,” he confirms, looking away. “I felt him. Just moments ago.”

And so much fills his senses at the moment. The thunder and the pouring rain, the gasp and influx of questions coming from Lucas, and the cold prickling at his skin. Cold…just as how he likes it—

“Here,” Mike says softly, wrapping a green jacket around Will’s shoulders that Will vaguely recognizes as his own, the one he left at the Wheelers’ house a few months ago that he never bothered to get back. “To warm you up. It’s too cold for you, now.”

It should be awkward between them. It really should be. But Will can feel Mike’s eyes on him never leaving, and the pain in his heart subsides. Melts even, into gratefulness, that even when Mike was a dick…deep down, he really wasn’t.

“Thanks,” Will replies softly, finally looking at Mike as he puts the jacket on properly. He registers now that Mike himself didn’t have a spare jacket, and now he was soaked to the bone.

Idiot, Will thinks fondly, as the three of them walk back to his house.

The next few days pass by so quickly that Will can’t even process properly. He remembers bits of what happened: El throwing Billy against a brick wall so hard that he couldn’t believe the asshole actually survived. The hospital; hearing Jonathan scream for Nancy. The cabin where the Mind Flayer almost took El. Breaking into the supermarket; Mike and Lucas fighting over Classic Coke vs. New Coke—seriously, Lucas, who the fuck enjoys New Coke?

What he can’t forget, though, is the aftermath of the Battle of Starcourt. Where once again, everything in his world was about to change.

So much happened in a span of a night. Will remembers Max’s screams for Billy as the Mind Flayer sunk deep into his skin. He remembers anxiously waiting for his mother, and the look of heartache on both her and El’s faces upon the knowledge that Hopper was dead. 

And above all, he remembers pain. Not even pain from the fireworks hitting the Mind Flayer.

It was pain at the bridge of his nose, a throbbing ache as though it hit something as hard as metal. He thought nothing of it, at first; too focused on Dustin’s ridiculous duet with his (apparently existing) girlfriend and being chased by the Mind Flayer.

He thought nothing of it until he saw Mike.

Mike, with the bridge of his nose bleeding and then bandaged. Apparently, Billy had attacked him while he was trying to protect El (and defend Max), and he hit a metal pole so hard he fell unconscious.

It was too much not to be a coincidence. Will did a test, just to be sure. He pinched the burn mark that he got from his…exorcism, and watched as Mike winced, rubbing at the exact same side. Suddenly, everything was clear as day.

Mike Wheeler was his soulmate.

And god, something that should’ve made Will so happy just made his heart break all the more.

Because Mike wasn’t like Will. He wasn’t…he wasn’t queer. He had El, for fuck’s sake. And even if he didn’t have El, Mike was far more deserving of someone less…fucked up as Will.

God, Will cries, as he recalls all the times he’d been in pain before, from his father’s wrath to the evilness of the Upside Down. All that pain he felt meant Mike also felt the same.

It all seems like a cruel joke, how the one person he never wanted to hurt is the person he’s probably hurt the most all this time.

And maybe that’s what drives him to distance himself from the Party for the rest of summer. It’s easy, anyway, because nobody was normal anymore after the Battle of Starcourt. Dr. Owens ordered his family and El to cut contact with everyone else for the rest of summer (for confidentiality or whatever). 

The Party themselves had their own thing going on. Before having to cut contact, this was what Will heard: Max was suffering from the trauma of watching Billy die before her eyes. Dustin was put on strict watch —which was basically house arrest—by his mother for not contacting her while he’d been sneaking around the Russians. Mike was practically MIA, apparently locking himself in the basement all day. Lucas was the only free one (and consequently, the one who told Will all of this), although most of his time was spent trying to be there for Max however he could.

Maybe that’s what drives him to agree when his mother sits them all down one evening and asks them if they’re okay with moving across the country. California may be good for us, she said. A fresh start. A new beginning. A way to heal.

A way to protect Mike to make sure he never got hurt by Will again.

And despite the pain in his heart of having to move away from his home, Will knows this is probably the best decision he’s made for the past few years. So he packs up his things, gives reassuring smiles, and hugs Mike the tightest…just to try and calm both their hearts down.

The tears pour out, and he allows himself to feel the pain in his chest—whether it was his pain or Mike’s, he wasn’t sure— as Jonathan reaches Hawkins’ exit.

(At the exact same time, Mike sinks himself into his mother’s arms, the exact same pain in his own chest at the realization that he lost Will yet again.)

It’s when he’s fourteen years old when Mike almost faces the truth.

Friends don’t lie has always been the rule of the Party; the one rule he abides by. He values honesty probably more than he values his own life.

Friends don’t lie, but boyfriends do, is what Max told El once, and consequently what El told Mike. Back then, he wanted to roll his eyes and say, what the hell does Max know? 

Turns out she knew a lot, and she was right. Boyfriends lie. 

He’s been falling apart ever since the Byers and El left for California. It should’ve been easier, knowing that Will and El were safe from harm. The distance should’ve helped Mike gather himself to accept the fact that he’d never be with his soulmate…the one he truly loves.

But it was just harder. Harder to keep up with the lies, keep up with the pretense that he was okay. The fact that the Party started falling apart made matters even worse. The only time he was able to escape his own mind was when he was at Hellfire…the only time he felt like himself.

And on top of all the lies, he missed Will. 

He doesn’t mean to discount the letters he had with El. He could hear her voice through her words, and he was glad she seemed like she was having the time of her life in California. And obviously, she was his girlfriend. He missed her, too.

It’s just, with Will…

Will was a part of Mike that he could never truly get rid of, no matter how hard he tried. He went from feeling Will’s pain to feeling nothing at all. It’s a bit fucked up, how much he’d rather endure internal burning than feeling empty, but that’s really just for Mike to know.

He wanted to reach out to Will. Wanted to hear his voice again, but the phone line was always busy when he was free. Letters were another option, but he just…he couldn’t send any of the ones he wrote. The letters revealed the truth, and like hell Mike was going to give it to Will and make things even worse.

It’s not like Will reached out, either. Mike thinks of the reasons that he wouldn’t reach out. Maybe he hates Mike for their argument last summer (which Mike still hasn’t apologized for, much to his chagrin). Maybe he was too busy with life in California, with new friends and the new girl El had been talking about in her letters (which makes Mike more jealous than he can admit).

Maybe he doesn’t care about Mike enough anymore to reach out. Now that possibility hurts the most.

The time comes when Mike is set to go visit them in California. There’s dread at the prospect of seeing Will and El again, because he’s aware of how unstable he is. He thinks that the moment he sees them, he’s bound to spill his truth.

So he repeatedly tells himself that he’s going to be okay; that spring break won’t be that bad.

He’s never been good at lying, even to himself. The sentiment backfires the moment he’s past the gate and sees them through his sunglasses, he’s close to spilling. So he swallows the lump in his throat, hugs El as tight as he can, and then awkwardly puts distance between himself and Will.

His pathetic tactic works, for a while. A while meaning a total of about three hours before everything goes to shit.

As it turns out, El’s been lying to him for the past six months. She’s been pushed and prodded by horrible bullies the same way he has been his entire life. 

As it turns out, Will has intentionally been avoiding Mike, too. It kind of irritates Mike, how he’s painted as the bad guy, but mostly he’s mostly hurt and confused. The prospect of Will not caring enough comes back to haunt his mind, and it aches. When they’re arguing, he almost wants to shake Will and ask, “do you feel your heart breaking as much as mine does?”

And then as it turns out, El is mad at him, too. For not saying those three little words she wants to hear. 

From, Mike. From, Mike. From, Mike. When she repeats the phrase, his mind flickers back to the folded up papers tucked away in a box under his bed back home.

Love, Mike. Love, Mike. Love, Mike. All addressed to another person.

He feels overwhelmed with emotion and backed into a corner, like a robber caught by the cops stealing. Instead of telling her the truth, shitty as it is, he attempts to feed her with more lies.

“I say it,” he says. Just…just not to you.

He knows that El knows it’s bullshit. That their whole romantic relationship was bullshit. She’s smarter than he gives her credit for. But then suddenly she’s whisked away by the police and eventually by Dr. Owens, and everything between them goes unresolved. 

Well…mostly unresolved. She gave him a note signed “from, El.” That probably says as much about where their relationship stands.

He’s nervous as he and Will stay together in his room, the first time they’ve been alone since their argument. But there’s a glimmer of concern and worry on Will’s face, and he’s comforting Mike even when he doesn’t deserve it. Just like before, Will makes Mike a little more brave.

So Mike starts to share bits and pieces of the truth with him.

“It’s Hawkins, it’s not the same without you.”

“I think it’s better if we work as a team. Friends…best friends.”

God, the look on Will’s face makes Mike want to kiss him. Makes him want to share his entire truth out loud.

But then things keep getting in the way. Like getting shot and running away from the military in a pizza van that smells like weed and blood. Like burying a dead body nowhere. Like meeting one of his best friend’s girlfriend unexpectedly for her skill in hacking. Like worrying about El, because she was in danger again, and so was his family and friends like Max—

Mike shakes his head as if that gets rid of his thoughts, and pulls out the map with the coordinates. The van is silence since the radio doesn’t reach the desert, so all he can hear is Jonathan’s fingers drumming against the steering wheel and Argyle’s quiet snoring.

His thoughts, of course, drift back to his…situation. 

Despite the chaos of the past few days, it was nice being around Will again. They fell back in synch, as if the past six to eight months of avoiding each other did not happen, and god, Mike is so undeserving of having Will as his soulmate.

Will, who is kind and wise and all things good. Will, who brings out the best in Mike. Will, who deserves far better. Who…

…who is talking to him, asking about fraud and Vegas, and all at once the worry and panic and insecurities come rushing back, spilling out of Mike’s lips without permission.

…who gives Mike a painting, a painting Mike thought was for some girl because El said it was; a painting so well-made and beautiful, just like Will.

…who gives him a speech of how El apparently sees Mike.

“But you make her feel like she’s not a mistake at all…like she’s better for being different.”

“If she was mean to you, or it seemed like she was pushing you away, it’s just because she’s scared of losing you, just like you’re scared of losing her.”

“El needs you, Mike. And she always will.”

…who Mike is 90% sure is talking about himself, and not El. After all, El wasn’t really being mean to Mike, not really. Nor was she really pushing him away. She was even trying to do the opposite back when they argued, trying to get him to say those three little words.

Most importantly, though, some of what Will claimed…it’s so similar to what he told Mike once before. When they talked about soulmates.

"D-Do I make you feel bad? For being different?” “You’re the only one who doesn’t make me feel bad for it."

It hurts, how Mike knows Will is lying for his sake. He’s about to tell Will everything, even if Jonathan and Argyle are there to hear it, but fuck it, Mike is so in love with Will.

He needs Will to know, no matter the consequences. They’ve been so close to the same page the entire fucking time.

But then…Will turns away and starts to cry. And Mike’s voice gets caught in his throat. Later, he decides. He knows Will hates being coddled anyway.

Later, he decides, when they find El in the middle of the desert, the relief of her being okay flooding through them. Later, he decides, when she and Argyle force feed him pizza with pineapples on them. Later, he decides, when El submerges herself in the water-filled freezer.

Later becomes never, when Vecna catches El and almost kills her. When Will pushes Mike to save her, saying “you’re the heart!” as if he really was talking about El in the van. Later becomes never as he spews out lie after lie in a desperate attempt to give El some help. Later becomes never, as they drive back to Hawkins after the battle, seeing the aftermath of the earthquake and their friends and family; as Will tells Mike that it was him all this time.

You’ll face the truth soon enough, Michael Wheeler, an awful voice whispers in the back of his head, as he stares at the looming clouds that darken his home. He curls his fist and lets his fingernails dig into his skin, dread piling up at the pit of his stomach.

(Beside him in that half-dead field, Will feels his hand tingle; the same hand Mike crushing. He tries his hardest not to hold it, to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. It’s not like he himself believed it, anyway.)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

‘Til death do us part (and thereon after).

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

When Will Byers is seventeen years old, he faces the truth.

There are many things scary about the world he’s grown up in. He had a laundry list of fears: the dark, his father, the bullies, and the creatures of the Upside Down. 

He’s faced those fears, time and time again. One would think that encountering all those fears would make him braver, prepare him for just about anything.

As it turns out, his biggest fear hasn’t been realized until after it happens. Nothing compares, he supposes, to losing the one you love right before your very eyes.

This is how it goes: they’re in the middle of a waging war against Henry Creel and his army of monsters. There’s fire and blood and decaying life everywhere, but everyone around him is so used to it that it barely phases them anymore. And for a time, Will believes they’re winning. 

Every one of them has a weapon in hand: Jonathan and Steve with matching nail bats, Lucas with his flaming arrows, and Dustin with some sort of amplifier. There’s Nancy and Robin and Argyle with dynamite in the corner, throwing them all around. There’s his mom, Murray, and Hopper, surrounding him and El with a ring of fire. There’s Mike, a sword in hand, swinging non-stop and getting more blood on his clothes.

If Will wasn’t needed by El to fight Henry Creel, he would’ve fainted on the spot at the sight of Mike.

“Focus,” El giggles, and Will is glad they can find some lightness and humor even as they continue to trap and fight Henry. He became so strong ever since the gates opened; ever since the Mind Flayer got more souls to strengthen itself to its fullest power.

And maybe that was Will and El’s mistake… losing focus. Because then, even in all his ugliness, they can see Henry smirk.

Will suddenly feels a tightening in his neck, but it’s not him being choked. It can only mean one thing.

“MIKE!” Nancy yells, and Will whips his head around to see one of Henry’s vines holding Mike up in the air, the sword he had been wielding on the ground. He struggles to keep his powers in focus, the pain being too much to handle.

“El,” he gasps. “I-I can’t…hold it…”

“I need you, Will,” El cries, and god, this is not the time to be stuck between a rock and a hard place. “I can’t…I can’t defeat him alone.”

“He needs you too, William,” Henry mocks. “Look at him.” And for some reason, everything freezes, from the temperature to the time to his own two feet.

Hell is cold, just how he likes it.

The grip of the vine around Mike’s neck slides down to his waist. “Will,” he cries out. “D-don’t stop. Help El, don’t help me.”

Will reaches out one hand in an attempt to split his powers: one to help El and the other to free Mike. It’s a vain attempt. It’s too much for him to handle, especially without much practice with his powers.

“Will,” Mike calls out again, and goddammit, even in the hardest times, Will can’t deny Mike Wheeler. “Y-you need to listen to me, okay? I-I’m sorry-”

“Shut up,” Will hisses, trying his best to concentrate. You need to be strong for him, he reminds himself as he pushes his power as best as he can. “Save your apologies for later.”

“There’s no time and you know it,” Mike replies, resignation etched in his voice. “D-do you remember the day we first met?”

Will doesn’t reply. He knows, but he doesn’t want to say the truth out loud. Not in these stakes.

Mike’s always been the braver one between them. “I asked you to be my friend,” he says. “And you said yes. And I told you before that it was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Mike,” Will cries, although he can’t bring himself to say anything else.

“It’s still…it’s still the best thing I’ve ever done,” Mike continues. “And that day…that day was special, because that’s when I met my soulmate for the first time.”

“I know…I know you can feel my pain, Will. Just as I can feel yours,” Mike coughs for a bit. “That’s how we both know. But…but I’ve avoided the truth for so long…because I thought it was the best way to protect you…”

“Mike-”

“...I was wrong, and I…I’m sorry, okay? For all the pain I caused you. Y-you deserve absolutely better than me…”

“Let me save you,” Will sobs, noticing the wetness of his cheeks. “Mike, let’s talk about this later- ”

“I told you,” Mike says, and the grip on the vine slowly slithers back to his neck. “There’s no time. I just…I wanted you to know how sorry I am. And that…you need to forgive yourself for what you need to do, okay?”

“What I need to do?” Will repeats incredulously. “What do I need to do, Mike?”

“S-Save everyone else…” The vine tightens. “Y-You have to let me go…to save…everyone else…”

“No-”

“Will-”

“Mike-” Will pleads…but there’s nothing else he can say. Because the fact of the matter was that it was, as of the moment, the only possible way.

“Let me go,” Mike rasps. “Y-you’re the only one who can stop him. You can do this. ”

Will closes his eyes, unwilling to see what happens. “I’m sorry, Mike…” he whispers.

“Don’t be,” Mike whispers back, nearly out of breath as the vine grips him tighter. “I love you.”

And then the pain that Will feels around his neck stops momentarily. 

Everything goes unfrozen, and god, Will is too angry. What happens next is a blur: from pushing even harder that his ears pop, to Henry Creel falling dead on the ground, to all the creatures at once following their master’s fate.

Everything is dead…including Mike.

“Mike,” Will cries, running towards Mike’s body. He’s as pale as moonlight in Will’s arms, the only color on his skin being the ring of dark bruises that start to surround his neck, and the freckles on his face that glimmer in the light. He can hear multiple people crying behind him.

You’re not gone, Will whimpers. You’re okay. Don’t leave me. I never even got to tell you that I love you, too. He brings Mike closer to his chest and starts to cry openly, heartache fast and strong and quite stubborn in his chest. In fact, it’s so stubborn, that it reminds him of something that happened before.

In the Upside Down, nearing the Right-Side Up, twelve year old Will woke up from what he knew was a nightmare. He felt the thump thump thumping of his heart again as his breathing began to deepen.

He remembered inky black vines around his torso, something slimy creeping down his throat, and then…

…there was darkness and then light; a force as strong and stubborn as gravity pulling him back to earth, a whisper of he’s alive, he’s okay from a voice he feels he knows, and a heart that he can’t tell is his own or not overflowing with strength, energy, and love.

He realized it was Mike who brought him back from the dead. And so he tries his best to do the same.

(One second, Mike feels nothing at all. There’s no pain in his body compared to mere seconds ago. But suddenly, there’s a light. A force that was as strong and stubborn as he was, a whisper of don’t leave me, you’re okay, you’re not gone, I love you too from a voice he knows like the back of his hand, and a heart he knows and loves so much.

He follows the light, feeling the thump thump thumping of his heart pumping as his breathing begins to deepen. And suddenly…

…he’s home.)

“Mike?” Will whispers hopefully from above him. Mike opens his tired eyes to reveal his best friend and soulmate. 

“I’m here,” Mike smiles. “Was there something you wanted to tell me?” he rasps as cheekily as he can manage.

Will scoffs and laughs wetly, and Mike can feel the tears splash on his own cheeks. “I love you too.” He knows Mike is about to kiss him, until he realizes everyone else is surrounding him, waiting for their turn to see him. So he intertwines their fingers and signals everyone to come closer. Mike glares playfully at him, but Will mouths, later.

It would be worth the wait.

(When Mike Wheeler is seventeen years old, he faces the truth as well, as he kisses Will Byers softly when they’re finally alone. 

They both make a promise to endure their pain together as one. As best friends. As lovers. As soulmates.

And endure they did together, forever and always.)