Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mike Wheeler was dying. Or he was going to, at least. He was sure of that now; sure because it was so plainly familiar. Hadn’t Max told them? She’d told them how it was. Told them about the clock. About everything going dark, so dark, about everyone being gone. She’d told them about Billy, and brittle, broken bones twisted out of proportion. Dead bodies mounted like decorations. She’d told them.

And that was what he was seeing now. The air, smelling vaguely of sulfur, was too thick. He couldn’t find his friends- no, his family - either. It was as if they had been pulled away from him by unwelcome hands. They hovered just out of reach, because everything here was entirely wrong. It was Hawkins as it should be, minus the people. The people who saved it time after time, year after year. Mike could feel them on the other side. They were there, of course. Just not for him. For him it was a desolate wasteland, cold, crawling, alive. Vines slithered like veins beneath Mike’s sneakers, writhing with malice.

He called out anyway. “Will?”

Mike wasn’t sure why that was the first name that came to mind. He felt stupid. Will wasn’t an adult. He had undoubtedly gone through the most out of the group, but what could he do now? He didn’t have superpowers or anything. He didn’t have, what, Kate Bush. How could Will help now? Mike felt uneasy, frustrated, as the thought came, but he ignored it. He was right, wasn’t he? Will couldn’t do anything to help him.

He took a step forward. The woods were dark around him. They seemed to breathe his name, echoing with that- that obnoxious clock.

It was ringing in his ears, his mind, incessantly. It blended almost melodically with that thick, angry voice. It kept saying his name, over and over again. It wouldn’t (tick) stop. And Mike could hear the chime even before it really rang. He’d been expecting it, he supposed. What was that? The second time? He wanted to lean onto a tree for support and dig his nails into the bark. He wanted to try and steady his breathing, but that was a no go, wasn’t it? The tree trunks squirmed with those fucking hive minded vines. He couldn’t relax here, could he? So he took a step forward, trying, just trying to navigate through those godawful woods.

His hand, despite his better judgment, flew to rest against a tree. It met wood, not slime or some other monstrosity, thank goodness. His fingers slid across the polished wood of his counter– What the hell? Mike glanced around, more frantic than anything else. He was in his kitchen. Why?

His mother was at the counter, bleach-blonde hair laying stiffly around her shoulders. Somebody he recognized. Not somebody who knew about the Upside Down or anything, but still. His friends had carried him back to his house, and he was awake now. Nancy and Max and El and Will couldn’t be far behind if his family was there. He wanted to run to his mother, to cling to her like the lifeline any familiar face was in this hellhole.

“Mom!” His voice, it echoed around him in canny waves. He looked to his side, surveying the kitchen, and that was when he realized. No, he wasn’t back in the right side up or whatever the fuck they wanted to call it. Ash was falling on his shoulders too heavily for that, the sky outside was too dark for that. It was still so humid and so cold at the same time. “Mom?” he repeated.

This time, his mother did turn. She looked normal enough, thank God, but then Mike looked up. Her eyes. Gouged out, leaving nothing but empty, sewn up sockets. They were crusted in pus and dried blood. This was not Karen Wheeler. Still, she opened her mouth, and that voice that was so familiar spoke across the room to him. “Micheal, where are you going ?”

The words spilled out with the same tinny emptiness, echoing too loudly. “Will’s house, Mom. Will’s house.” Mike found himself speaking without his own control. He couldn’t move, it seemed. He was petrified.

His mother raised her brows. They hung loosely over those terrible, stitched-up messes. He remembered this interaction now. He remembered the sleepless nights spent over it, biting his nails each time he walked into his home or saw his mother. “It’s funny, don’t you think, that Will hasn’t started seeing anyone yet. You all are growing up fast, so I’m just surprised. I mean, how long have Lucas and that Max been dating, mm? Dustin and his fabled Suzie?” She laughed dryly, wringing out the towel in her hands onto the floor. The water dripped like sludge into the linoleum, corroding the tiles. 

Mike felt a familiar pang of second hand defensiveness at the mention of Will’s love life, and another feeling- a biting regret at their argument in the rain. It didn’t matter how much time had passed; he still lost sleep over it. “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls.” What had he been thinking?

Karen continued. “Actually, come to think of it, he spends so much time with you that I’m starting to doubt he has any interest in ladies at all, yet. Boys do hit puberty later, I suppose. Will always was a late bloomer. Just… let me know if he ever…” She shrugged good naturedly.

Mike recalled this. He recalled it so, so painfully. Why did she have to come at Will? Of all his friends, why him ? He moved his hands up to his head, realizing he again could move in doing so. He clutched his hair desperately, trying not to vomit. Why did he always find he was on the verge of puking around Will? Why did he want to now, even though his friend wasn’t present? God, Vecna’s stupid slithery monsterness was really getting to him, wasn’t it? He was probably going crazy .

And almost immediately, Mike fell back into reality.

Hands were on his shoulders, and his vision refocussed, showing Nancy glaring intensely at him. Her eyes widened as he processed her presence and she pulled him tightly into a hug. “God, we got scared for a second there.”

Her long nails dug into his shirt, not in an uncomfortable way. Mike knew that there were others around him. He was still dazed, sure, but not enough to not recognize those faces that had become so familiar to him. Max, arms crossed and face twisted up knowingly. Steve and Robin and Eddie and Dustin. They sat to his right, standing instantly as Nancy spoke. And there was Will, clutching his hand tightly. From his chair, he leaned toward Mike, who had been placed on some sort of bed or cot. Something like that.

Tears were evident in Will’s eyes. Why did it seem he was always crying on Mike’s behalf? “Mike! Thank God you’re up. I was- we were all so scared.  We were so, so scared.” Will covered his mouth with the back of his hand. It was sweet, how relieved he was.

Mike pushed that feeling down, making sure to observe how relieved everyone else was, too, so it didn’t seem so weird. They were all super grateful, too. He wasn’t really sure who he was trying to prove anything to, but he made sure that he had seared everyone’s reassured face in his mind, deliberately looking away from Will as he did so. 

He sat up, rubbing his wrist and staring around himself. He took a shuddering breath. “I should have told you guys, when I started getting nosebleeds. And– and the nightmares. I guess I just–  Guess I didn’t make the connection.” Mike had, in fact, made the connection. But he didn’t want to mention it to the group. What would be the point of that, after all? They would simply get way too worked up, and maybe, if he didn’t raise it as a concern, it wouldn’t end up being such a prevalent issue (which was such a bullshit idea, he knew).

Nancy shook her head. She pursed her lips like she always did. “No, Mike, don’t worry about it. How do you feel?”

Max stepped forward. “Yeah, very important, but can I talk to you?”

Mike nodded, sliding out of his cot-thing. He followed Max into another room. They were in a trailer, that much was evident, so probably at Eddie or Max’s. The girl turned to him as they stepped away from the rest of the group, red ponytail swishing with the movement. “What did you see?”

Mike shrugged. “I dunno, I mean, it was a lot.”

“Start from the beginning.”

He made a face at the sharpness in her voice. “Jeez, okay.” He began pacing around the small, disorganized room. Now that he thought about it, it was definitely Eddie’s place. The decor was evidence enough of that. “Um, well, all of the sudden, you guys weren’t there, right?” Max nodded. “So I’m walking around, and it’s cold and dark and all that stuff. But I’m still in the forest. And then, like, randomly, I’m in my kitchen. And there’s my mom, but her eyes aren’t there.”

Mike swallowed, raising a hand to gesture at his face as he paced. “They were sewed closed.” He paused. “Um, anyways, she says all this stuff. It’s like a memory, where it actually happened, but it’s… weird. Typical Upside Down stuff. And then I woke up.” He shrugged.

Max obviously seemed reluctant to press further. Vecna made you relive things you didn’t want to relive, didn’t he? Making Mike recount whatever his mother had said seemed cruel. She shrugged, putting her headphones back over her ears. In a moment, she’d rejoined the rest of the group in that other room, and Mike was left alone.

Chapter Text

‘Micheal.’

Fuck . Fuck, Mike Wheeler was going to die, wasn’t he? He’d thought that the first time around, yeah, but that was just phase one or something. This time it was for real, because the clock chimed twice during each hallucination, right? And here he was, tripping out for the second time. He thought it was probably worse this time, because this time he was at home. Nancy’s room, yeah, to grab guns, but still home . Hauntingly familiar, yet so empty of everything important. Mike wished he could at least grasp some sense of familiarity here, but even that had been stripped away with the time difference between worlds.

He tried standing from where he’d been sitting on his sister’s bed – with Will right next to him – and nearly toppled trying to avoid vines. He felt stupid, though, trying to navigate around them, because wasn’t Vecna already awake? Wasn’t he on his merry- fucking -way right now?

He really was going to die, wasn’t he?

Mike kicked a vine, not really caring when it tried crawling its way back up his leg. He stumbled through the doorway, knocking over Nancy’s messily placed flashcards from sophomore year, and walking to his basement. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he figured maybe he could die in some place he felt secure. It was stupid, so, so stupid, but he’d spent so much time down there.

He whirled around the banister, taking stairs two at a time, when his foot landed on gravel. He stopped, confused, and was blissfully grateful he had, because he found himself peering over a cliff. The drop was probably a hundred feet- something crazy like that. A super long fall into water that you couldn’t survive. Mike turned, and there was Dustin. Another few familiar faces, too- Troy and his other friend. What was his name? James? God, Mike wanted to close the distance between him and his friend, and sure, the other boys, too. But he really didn’t want to fool himself again, like he had with his mother, because he was twelve years old when this happened. He remembered it with such definition it startled him when he lay awake wondering if he could have done anything differently. He loved El, but he wondered what would have happened if she wasn’t there. If he had jumped. If he had been able to protect Dustin.

The resolution with which he remembered the event was evident enough now, because it played like a movie before him. Everything was the same, pretty much. The sky was just as bright as it had been, the air clean and fresh. Vecna wasn’t messing with him in that respect. But their eyes. They weren’t there, and he supposed he didn’t care enough about Troy or James to really be bothered by the gore. But Dustin. Dustin, looking scared and innocent and perfectly normal , all except for his eyes.

He was yelling at Mike. Screaming.

Mike covered his ears, crouching down on the cliff’s edge and looking away from the scene. He didn’t want to hear his party member arguing how he’d be just fine without his teeth or Troy’s stupid laugh. Oh, how he hated Troy. Troy, who had tormented him

(frogface)

and the rest of the party for years. Troy, who was now threatening his friend ? Suddenly, Mike was twelve again. He wasn’t just spectating this memory as his fifteen-year-old self. No, he was scared. Genuinely scared of a real, human thing apart from Vecna. He wondered if he didn’t jump in this reenactment of his memory, if he would have to witness this version of Dustin’s teeth being pulled. He didn’t want that, even if the kid in front of him was just a figment of his imagination.

Mike gazed down at the water, deciding it wasn’t a chance he wanted to take. As he peered toward the waves, a hand fell on his shoulder.

‘Micheal.’

Mike crawled backward before remembering he was on the edge of a cliff, realizing too late. He found himself not falling, though, but rather floating upside down face to face with a zombie.

But it wasn’t a zombie, because further inspection showed a burned and twisted up face, all too human in its entirety. It grinned at him, muscles stretching with an unpleasant, wet noise. And when the creature spoke, Mike realized he knew the voice. It was the voice that’d been haunting him for those past few weeks, boring its way into his brain like a parasite.

He clenched his fists, nails digging desperately into his palms as he stared at Vecna. “What do you want?” Internally, Mike cringed at the shakiness of his voice.

‘To take you home, Micheal.’ Vecna leaned forward, smiling knowingly at the boy in front of him. ‘You think about this all the time, I know.’ He gazed at the water then the trio behind him, looking obnoxiously peaceful. His eyes said, I have all day. Do you? Vecna pointed down at the lake. ‘You wonder if things would have been better if you had succeeded in jumping.’

A pause. Mike didn’t want to say anything, worried about the tentativeness of his suspension over the water. Would an action make him drop, send him plummeting to his death? So he hung, silent, glaring at the monster before him.

Vecna continued, as much as Mike wanted him to shut up. ‘If you’d jumped, you wouldn’t have to deal with everything, right? You could’ve died with the notion that you’d avoided worse times. But no. You hesitated. You hesitated so much that you got “ saved” by Eleven. You’re so fond of her, aren’t you?’

And then the scene changed. Mike cursed the ugly, terrible, worse version of his girlfriend in front of him, (Like, seriously. Powers were El’s thing.) as they stood now in that skate park that El went to all the time– or, no. Will had said that was a lie, hadn’t he? They never went there, apparently. Rink-O-Mania , it was called. He was standing close to Will. Shit, he remembered this argument. Will was glaring at him, eyes darting around nervously. Mike hadn’t really steeled himself for a situation such as this. When biking through the woods, imagining made up situations where he had been the cursed one, (lo and behold, it came true.) he’d been conjuring images of gore, or something horrifyingly gruesome. He had not, in fact, pictured these memories that stung so badly.

Of course, how did one prepare themself for Vecna’s Curse? They didn’t. And it figured that when Will and Mike were able to stand so closely together, face to face, it was for only Will to be upset at him. Unlike his mother and Dustin, Will was normal looking. His eyes, deep brown, reflected the neons at the skate park so nicely. At least one fictitious person here had been spared from the gouging and resewing process that Vecna seemed to love so much. And when Will spoke, his words did not echo through a vast expanse. They fell flat on Mike’s ears with normality. “What are we ?”

Not this. Of course it’s this. Mike, despite remembering this with awful clarity, recognizing the situation the second he landed, he’d been clinging onto the slim hope that maybe Vecna had rewritten the dialogue, and it wasn’t the same conversation at all. Maybe he wouldn’t have to relive this , of all things. The words slipped out of his mouth as if pulled from his throat: “We’re friends, Will.” 

Of course. Of course Vecna thought he was so cool by putting those stupid, awful words back in Mike’s mouth. It was times like this memory when Mike seriously regretted not jumping. Of course, he didn’t want to go back to that day. Or… try anything like that again. He wasn’t messed up like that. But then, if he had jumped, had fallen , he wouldn’t have to live moments like this. Moments where he was so close to Will and said something stupid. Moments where he came so close to losing his best friend.

He waited for the response he knew was coming, looking down at his vomit green socks to avoid Will’s not-eyes.

“Are you sure about that, Mike?”

That wasn’t right. Mike looked up, confused, brow furrowed. “What?”

“I said, ‘are you sure about that?’” Will laughed without humor. “Because it seems like you think about me a lot . And I mean, I know you love Eleven. But to be fair, I wonder if that’s still in the way you think it is.”

“Will, what are you talking about?” Mike knew that this was Vecna talking, not his friend, because he’d always known that Will was way too nice to be friends with someone like Micheal Wheeler. But still, it kind of stung seeing the boy he’d known since kindergarten stare at him so critically .

Will reached forward, cupping Mike’s cheek in his hand. Which was terrible. It made him feel like he was about ready to make the floor match the color of his socks, plus, it was upsetting in a way he couldn’t really name. He guessed he just wasn’t great with physical touch anymore, given all the Vecna trauma.

“Mike,” Will said, smiling patronizingly. “I know you’re obsessed with me.”

That was when Mike ran. He turned his face away from Will’s touch, soft and disconcerting, and sprinted in the opposite direction. He was unpleasantly surprised to find he was wearing roller skates. Why the wardrobe change? He skidded and flailed before leaning against the rink’s exterior rail and quickly yanking at his laces. He glanced at Will, whose face was adorned by a small and smug smile, as if he’d won a bet or something.

“Jeez, Mike, you really run away from all your problems, don’t you?” He tilted his head, hair just barely swishing with the motion. Mike scrambled, pulling off his skates and throwing them at the apparition of Will. It didn’t really work, because he just dodged, looking offended, and continued talking.

“I mean, your relationship with El, for instance.” Mike tried to ignore the voice, Will’s voice, as his socks padded against the carpeted floor, but it was as if the words were being spoken directly in his ears. They didn’t layer over themselves eerily, or twist into the air like Dustin and his mother’s had. Rather, they followed him. 

Mike had to tell himself it wasn’t Will speaking, but if it wasn’t him, why was it so real? And the knowledge didn’t change the fact that it hurt to see, to hear, someone so dear to him saying those things, staring at him like that. The voice was sharp through the rink’s canny music. “Yeah, things between you and El are interesting , I guess,” Will continued. “It’s terrible watching you lie to her. She’s my sister, Mike. And you hurt her.”

Mike reached a dead end, whirling around to face Will. “I don’t lie to her.”

Will scoffed, raising his brows. He’d gone from looking aloof and mildly annoyed to angry. He’d never looked at Mike that way before. “Yeah? You love her like a friend, Mike. And she knows it. You say you love her, but you’re just lying because you can’t stop thinking about me, and that freaks you out, doesn’t it? I hate watching you pretend. I hate watching you hurt her and toss around all these lies. I hate you.”

He took a step forward, spitting out the words as he moved. “I hate how you’re a liar. I hate how you don’t contribute anything to the party any more. You drag down the group. What have you contributed when we fight the demogorgon or Vecna? You’re dead weight and a hypocrite.” Will was close now, and he shoved Mike into the wall behind him. His head made contact with the plaster, and he bit his tongue. Blood pooled in his mouth. “You wanna know the extent of your hypocrisy? You hurt Lucas when he was against El joining our party. You hurt him, Mike, and then the second Max is in the picture, you do it again. What is wrong with you?”

Mike stared at Will, looking for some semblance of his friend. The words stung so, so much. He hadn’t meant to hurt Lucas. He still thought about his friend sailing through the air, rolling on the ground in the junkyard, even though it had been years ago. And Max and him— they were friends now. They were close. He was sure she’d forgiven him, but then again, that didn’t change how blatantly rude he’d been to her, did it?

“And- and you just keep lying .” Will’s voice broke. “You’re a liar. You pretend that you’re such a great friend, but you lie to me and you lie to El and you lie to yourself, like the trash you are. You’re disgusting.”

Mike reached up, wiping away tears, which had mingled with the blood from his mouth. He hadn’t realized he’d been crying until he felt the teardrops on his cheeks, and that in itself was unusual. Mike had gotten so good at keeping himself from crying over the years. Between the relentless bullying in middle school and the terrors that started when he was twelve, he’d been able to keep tears to himself. But he broke now.

“Will–” He swallowed. “Will, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Mike!” Will hit the wall next to Mike’s head, breathing heavily and angrily. “It doesn’t cover any of this! You’re a terrible friend, and you know what? We’ll never be more than that. It doesn’t matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise– I know how you feel about me, and I want you to know it’s gross , okay? And even if I, for some reason, thought it wasn’t, I could never love you like you love me, because all you’ve ever done is hurt me.” 

Then, the world crumbled around Mike.

Chapter Text

As the roller rink faded into muted, unpleasant red, Mike’s head swam.

He thought he was hallucinating. The back of his head still hurt from being knocked against a wall, and pieces of houses flew around aimlessly. He’d come to the conclusion that this had to be part of his death by Vecna, because it was way too weird to be true. Was this the landscape he would die in? Foggy, glowing crimson, with random music echoing around him? 

But then the setting flickered, though, and he was back at the Rink-O-Mania. Vecna now stood where Will had been. Mike was offended by that for a reason he couldn’t name– why did Vecna think he had any right to stand where Will had? The thought crossed his mind before he recalled how what he had seen had not, in fact, been his friend of over ten years. Rather, it was a made-up creation, crafted by Vecna to make him as upset as possible. And now, the monstrosity himself stood before Mike. Deformed, noseless, objectively unattractive, Vecna stared down at Mike. 

‘It’s time.’ Vecna’s voice was raspy and deep, grating on the ears. Mike was vaguely aware of four chimes echoing in the back of his mind. He knew that wasn’t good, but he couldn’t quite remember why. His heart raced, thoughts moving all too fast to logically focus on anything.

Vecna advanced, raising his arm. Mike wanted to dash away, because whatever was happening couldn’t be good, but he couldn’t move. His limbs were rooted in place, like the vines that crawled around the Upside Down. 

Mike’s mind seemed to glitch in that moment. Even though the tone of death and inevitability had been the only thing consistent during the experience, images that didn’t quite match that blinked across his sight. An influx of happy memories appeared briefly, catching Mike off guard. He supposed that this was his life flashing before his eyes– or, at least, his life since it all began. Sitting with Will on the roofs of their parents’ cars on countless nights, cracking open Coke cans, eating waffles with El and the party after a good campaign. Those sleepless nights, spent wrapped in blankets in Will’s room–

Whatever end-of-his-life crisis Mike was having was interrupted by music, slicing through his memory sequence like a razor. It reverberated melodically in his brain, an unfamiliar song. The soundtrack to his death, quite possibly.

And just like that, Mike was snapped out of it. He could move of his own accord again, and found Vecna standing in front of him. Neon lights glinted off of Vecna’s writhing, slimy skin. It was then that Mike ran for his life. For real, this time. Because as the music echoed in the walls of his mind, the skate rink dissipated around him. 

While the rink crumbled into mind dust or some weird shit, Mike found himself back in the red expanse. The same place he’d briefly appeared in when Will was replaced by Vecna. Seemingly random things drifted around the space: a grandfather clock, stained glass windows, arches and doorways. A corroded foundation of a home rested among spires of vines. That was off putting, yes, but the three bodies twisted up in front of him horrified him. Their bones twisted out of proportion, frozen as if they had too many joints in their arms or their fingers could bend both ways. And their eyes– it was like they’d been sucked out of their sockets, leaking blood and leaving gaping black holes. Mike picked up the pace, eyes set on the opening. It was growing closer, closer, as boulders rained upon him. And, most importantly, he saw something from his world. 

A gaping circle had opened in the distance, revealing screaming figures he knew all too well. They cried his name, yelling at each other and trying frantically to reach a body that floated above them. As he ran toward it, he saw that final silhouette come into focus, and it was him. Why was he surprised? The same thing had happened to Max. And Chrissy, reportedly. But viewing himself in the third person? It was almost enough to make him trip over the vines and fog on the ground. Almost.

He glanced over his shoulder. Vecna hadn’t moved, empty eyes boring into Mike. He opened his mouth, and, despite the newly gained distance between the two figures, his voice carried a certain clarity. ‘You can’t run from me, Micheal.’

Mike blatantly ignored this statement, sprinting relentlessly through the red landscape. 

His voice, though, still drilled in his ears. ‘Do you see my creations? They decorate this place, and soon, you will, too.’

He sprinted past the bodies, trying not to look at their cracked jaws and statue-esque stiffness. He knew from Max and Eddie how horrific they were supposed to be, but that wasn’t much preparation. Neither was the censored or blurred-out report the news tried to feed them. Mike felt his stomach twist at the bodies, despite his best efforts to only look at them out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t want that to happen to him, or to be mounted up like some freak ornament. More importantly, he didn’t want the rest of the group to see him like that. Apart from his party, he wasn’t sure how much all of them would care. Robin, for instance, didn’t know him all that well. But that was still disturbing, wasn’t it? Seeing someone’s body broken beyond repair like that, much less somebody you knew ?

The party would hate it. El would cry, he knew, once the news got back to Lenora. And she already had to deal with so much bullshit from the world. And Will –

Mike tried to stop the steady flow of thoughts as he ran, but it didn’t do much. It was as if a dam had broken in his mind, pouring out ruminations before his quite possible, almost reminiscent of someone’s last words. But last thoughts ? As if that would do any good. It didn’t matter what his final thought was. He’d be dead and no one else would know about it. Thoughts, unlike words, were not eternal.

Mike found he’d slowed as he got lost in his thoughts, which surprised him, given the adrenaline that should have been pumping through his veins. It had been noticeable at the beginning of the endeavor, but it’d slowly trickled out, for whatever reason. He picked up speed again. In the stretch of crimson, his feet didn’t fall on any real surface. Although he ran normally, he couldn’t feel a distinct ground beneath his socks.

‘Where are you going? This, Micheal, is your home now. It was mine, and it is theirs , and it will be yours.’

As pieces of architecture rained upon him and Vecna’s stupid voice rambled on, Mike drew nearer and nearer–

and he was falling through. He tumbled out into the sky, and, just like that, awoke.

Chapter Text

Mike fell into Will’s arms. He graped desperately at his sleeves, taking a sharp inhale as his eyes opened. It took a moment of looking around disorientedly for the reality of his survival to sink in. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t sprawled across the grass, eyes replaced by voids and limbs reshaped like clay. His knees nearly buckled from relief, and he could barely hear voices trying to frantically steady him.

“Woah.”

“Mike, are you okay?”

“Sh!”

“Dude, what happened?”

“Jeez, back the fuck off, Dustin, he’s probably, like–”

“Since when are you the boss?”

“Since forever, Henderson. Get with the program.”

“Guys, can we just–”

The voices clicked into place. His friends, his family, and, most importantly, Will. He was holding Mike, trying to keep him from falling, relieved, reassuring words drowning out all the other sounds. Slowly, but gradually, the world shifted right back into focus. He was in his sister’s bedroom, a group of people he’d come to love surrounding him. If he were speaking truthfully, he’d say they held almost more value to him than his loveless family with its disconnected siblings and picket fence parents. Of course, he would never voice those feelings, but the pang of relief that settled into his stomach was enough for him to recognize them. 

Just like they had been when he awoke the first time, the adults (kind of. They still seemed childish to Mike) stood off to the side, looking concerned then happy then concerned again. This, of course, excluded Nancy, who was standing behind Will, sporting an intense expression. But the rest of her crew, in all their stupid glory, stared at Mike from the other side of the bed. Robin. Steve. Eddie. God, Mike was glad Eddie was there. The poor guy had gone through an unreasonable amount of shit, and it showed on his face. He looked stunned, vaguely confused, and extremely out of place, but his presence was a source of relief for Mike. Eddie had been an absolute in Mike’s life throughout freshman year, and it felt almost stabilizing to have him there.

Dustin and Lucas and Max were there too, all in different parts of the room. They shot comments at each other, each somewhere along the lines of What the fuck are you doing? and Can you please shut up?

But Will. Will. Will, Will, Will, Will , Will, hands gripping Mike’s shoulders as if he’d never let go again, eyes red and tired and relieved. So, so relieved. He smiled through a choked half-sob, half-laugh, pulling Mike in for a hug. 

“We thought you were gone .” His voice wavered.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Mike repeated the words, apologizing more for the terrible person he was than his very-near death, but yeah, it was that too. He tried to ignore those thoughts, though, sinking into Will’s arms. He wanted to melt, wanted to stay like this forever. That is, until a stupid and uncomfortable truth set into the pit of his stomach. While he hung onto Will, both of them clinging to each other wordlessly, the recent recollection of what he’d seen seemed to hit him like a truck. That fake Will Byers, shoving Mike and yelling at him. Of course, it’d all been a terrible hallucination conjured by Vecna, but that didn’t change how much it hurt.

And here was the real Will, the one who was kind and cared for people and created really, really cool drawings, who was perfect — Jesus Christ, Wheeler — The real Will, his Will, standing in front of him with nothing but love in his eyes. 

Love?

“I could never love you like you love me, because all you’ve ever done is hurt me.”

Shit, even in the real world, Henry Creel was back in his head. Mike stepped back, away from Will’s embrace, because really , it had gone on a little too long, and there were people around. People who were probably just as relieved that he was back, and people who were probably so weirded out by him.

He surveyed their faces, and none of them seemed to have noticed how readily he sank into another boy’s arms. Dustin and Max glared at each other, Max’s expression shifting between serious and exasperated as she looked between him and Mike. Lucas stared across the room at them, eyes saying chilloutyoutwo more readily than words probably could.

Robin, Steve and Eddie had remained in their same places, but Nancy took her opportunity as Mike pulled away from Will.

“Oh my God. Mike, you’re alive! Do you know how– how–” She gave up, shaking her head. Her voice, similarly to Will’s, broke briefly. “I’m so glad. You’re back. I’m so glad you’re back.” She pulled Mike into a hug, but this was noticeably shorter. More of a quick squeeze, leaning back away to smile at him reassuringly. She wiped away a few tears that had slipped out, taking a deep breath.

Mike wasn’t quite sure what to do, so he sat down. It was probably for the best, because his legs were shaking sporadically and his heart rate had picked up again. He was trying to figure out what had just happened without breaking down; he would save that for tonight, when there weren’t a bajillion people staring at him like an alien. He wished he could be more like Will in that respect, and be more honest about his feelings. Will, who was probably the most caring person in the whole room– no, screw that, probably all of Hawkins. Will, who no one really deserved. He was sweet, and charming, and God, he’d been to Hell and back. Literally. But he still had enough empathy for at least three people, which was crazy.

Mike gnawed on his nail, forgetting that everyone was looking at him. He glanced up. “Oh.”

Dustin stepped forward. “Okay, are you alright? But also, what the hell just happened? You guys see that shit?” He turned to the rest of the room expectantly. When the most he got were a few reluctant nods from Lucas, Steve and Robin, he shook his head, removing his hat and running his hand through his hair. “Son of a bitch, you all are useless.”

“Uh, pretty sure I just got possessed, so.” Mike stared at Dustin, daring more comments. It occurred to him that he was probably spending too much time around Max.

Lucas practically shoved Dustin out of the way. “That was actually crazy. Mike, are you al–”

It was then that Nancy intervened, God bless her soul. She could be pretty obnoxious sometimes, but Mike was internally grateful to have such a reasonable sister. “Um, guys, this is great and all, but let’s give Mike a little space.” She shot pointed looks around the room, mainly aimed at Mike’s friends.

Steve raised his arm, speaking up for the first time. “I second that.”

Eddie, as well, nodded. “I concur. Think we all need a little recovery time, yeah?” Mike figured Eddie normally would’ve had some sort of creative comment to add on, maybe a nice dramatic speech. But he just leaned back into the corner, hand against the back of his neck. It was obvious what– no, who, he was thinking about: Chrissy.

Mike decided that yeah, that was probably a good idea, because it hurt to see Eddie’s eyes staring emptily and morosely at the ground, when he was normally so animated. And, even more, the room was overwhelming him. A pit had sunk into his stomach as what he’d just survived set in, and it was beginning to hurt. The lights and the yelling and the frantic energy wasn’t helping. He nodded his assent, standing. “Yeah, maybe I’ll just go sit down for a minute.”

The words came out shakily, with trepidation. Mike squeezed his eyes shut momentarily before walking out of the room. He hesitated at the top of the staircase. Despite his better judgment, he felt a certain kind of fear sinking into him. What if when he set a foot on the top stair, it would land instead in an unfriendly environment, just as it had before? What if he would turn and instead of his home, he would see Vecna jeering at him while his memories twisted themselves up and shifted in his mind?

Mike bit his tongue, not quite seeming to be able to move. He felt stuck in a state of petrification, simply lingering where he stood. He wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn't that he was afraid of the stairs, necessarily, but it occurred to him that he didn’t want to be alone. The people he cared about were still holed up in Nancy’s room, and no matter how claustrophobic it was getting, it was secure, in a way.

Mike had made the decision that he should go back, maybe ask everyone to file out so they could have discussion in a less cramped place, when Will stepped out of the room. He closed the door with a click , leaning against it and rubbing the side of his forehead, when he saw Mike.

“Oh,” Will said. There was an undercurrent of surprise in his tone, but it wasn’t displeased. “Thought you’d be downstairs.”

Mike nodded, smiling. “Yeah, well.” He searched for the words that would adequately explain why he hadn’t, in fact, gone downstairs, but they fell flat on his tongue. He shrugged.

Will nodded. There was an understanding in his eyes, an understanding that practically made Mike want to melt, just as he had when Will had hugged him. But of course, that was ruined almost instantly. Mike knew it had been mere minutes since he returned from his possession or whatever, but Vecna’s words still floated in the back of his mind like a resurfacing memory. It was like every good thought he had about Will had to be interrupted by the painful reminder of what had been said in the illusion of the Rink-O-Mania.

– all you’ve ever done is hurt me.

It was like a sick mantra echoing in his head; Vecna’s impersonation of Will had been just that. An impersonation. And yet, it still carried truth. Mike was riddled with the fear that those truths would be exposed. It had always been a worry– that one day, Will would wake up and realize he deserved a better friend than Mike, and their relationship would come crashing down. And the words he’d been dreading for years being spoken to him by an apparition of the very person he valued most had increased that fear tenfold.

His grip tightened on the banister behind him, and he realized that Will was still there, brown eyes laced with concern. “Maybe we should grab you a mixtape, or something. I mean–”

Mike cut him off. “No, I’m fine, really.”

Will’s eyes narrowed at that, but he said nothing. The two of them never really could lie to each other. “Well, we’re right in the middle of the hallway, so maybe we should go sit down somewhere. Unless you wanna be alone, which I totally get, by the way.”

Mike shook his head. It was almost desperate, pleading. “No! No. Company is nice.” He paused. He was smiling at Will, he knew, and the corner of Will’s mouth was turned up ever so slightly, despite the dried tear tracks on his cheeks. “We could grab some blankets, go up to the roof, maybe. Like we used to.”

Once again, Will nodded. It was happier this time, but still just as reassuring. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

From the roof, they could see for miles. Mike supposed that came with having a picture-perfect suburban home, second floor and hill and everything. Downtown Hawkins was small, nestled among blocks upon blocks of family homes and way too many trees. It was nice, all glowing golden as the afternoon slowly faded into evening.

Mike and Will sat at the top of the roof, piled among blankets. Mike, as much as he hated himself for it, couldn’t help but observe the way that fading light bounced off Will’s hair. The chimney shaded Mike from such effects, but the sunset haloed the other boy. Mike looked away, staring at the shingles.

Will nudged him. “I think we should talk about what happened. What you saw.”

Of course this conversation. Of course. Mike figured he and WIll were normally good at talking to each other. It came with being best friends for so long. But if he were to say something, recount his hallucinations, Will would know. He’d know about Mike. He would know and that could either go really well or really fucking poorly, and the most important thing in Mike’s life would be gone in an instant. It didn’t matter how close they were. What good would that do if Will was retreating to the normal people who weren’t so goddamn messed up, and wasn’t even there to confront? It hurt. That thought hurt more than it should. It was poisonous, creeping its way up his stomach and crawling behind his eyes. He swallowed, knuckles clenching on the shingles.

Will noticed this and Mike’s silence, eyes darting softly around. “Hey, if you don’t wanna tell me about it, you don’t have to. I… know how it is.” His hand flew briefly, almost subconsciously, to the back of his neck. Mike’s heart dropped with that small, practically imperceptible motion. “And I know it’s like, immediately after. ”

Mike laughed halfheartedly. “Yeah.” He paused. “But, um, I just want to apologize.”

Will tilted his head. “For what?”

“I was being a total douche. And I always have been, y’know, and I’m sorry. It’s been like, since I started dating El, I feel like I’ve just been useless. The group has all of these things to deal with, and I don’t really have anything to contribute.” Mike wasn’t quite sure where the words were coming from, but he was glad they did. He wanted to talk to Will, own up to all of the stupid things he’d done so he wouldn’t be hated forever.

“Mike, what are you talking about?”

“I’ve just been… not the greatest friend. Or boyfriend, to Eleven, and I can tell it’s annoying to everyone. And she’s been gone, right? I mean, I love her a lot, and I really miss her, but I was thinking.” Good. That sounded like a viable excuse for why he was having this conversation. He wouldn’t have to tell Will what Vecna had said to him, the biting truths that had been forced in his face. “I’ve just been lying to you,” he continued. “I keep telling myself all of these things about my relationship with her, but I can’t even say I love you. And it just all stacked up and now I’m worried I’ve been pushing you away. You’re probably the best friend I’ve ever had and I can’t even give you the time of day. You deserve someone better.”

The halo glow of sunlight shifted on Will as he leaned forward, shaking his head. “What? Mike, no. No, it’s–” He hesitated, brows knit together. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I don’t want you to think that. You have nothing to apologize for, and sure, we’ve been a little distant these past couple months, but that’s not your fault. The line’s always busy with mom’s new job.”

Mike looked away, trying to ignore the perfect golden hour silhouette of Will. “But I could’ve written! You said so yourself; I have all these letters from El. It’s like, I was scared to write or something, which is just so stupid, and you didn’t deserve that. I just left you hanging. I was being a total idiot, and I’m so sorry.”

Will grabbed the other boy’s hand. “You keep saying that I don’t deserve this, don’t deserve that, but it’s not true. I don’t need someone ‘better’. You’re enough, Mike. In fact, you’re more than enough.” His voice fell softly on Mike’s ears.

That was when Will kissed him, leaning in quickly and then back out, staring at Mike’s lips. Mike said nothing. He had never been stoned before, but he wondered if this was what it felt like: pure, almost superficial elation. His heart was racing. He could feel it picking up in his ears, pounding through his veins. He guessed he would go into cardiac arrest soon. What just happened? His lips were burning where Will’s had brushed against them, and he was stuck wondering if it was even real. Probably just a hallucination, brought on by the near-death experience–

“What…” Mike breathed. But in his silence, Will was turning away from him, hand on his mouth.

“Sorry. I should’ve–”

Mike didn’t say anything, just pulled Will back toward him with the same abruptness as he’d snapped out of his panicked reverie. The evening air had made way for a cool breeze, rustling the trees in synchronization around them. Mike’s hand found Will’s hair, combing his fingers through it. Softly, calmer this time, their lips met again. Will’s skin was warm like the spring night, leaning into Mike’s touch with an almost tangible relief. His hand tightened around Mike’s own, interlocking their fingers, the other finding the back of Mike’s shirt and pulling him in gently. They sat like that, foreheads touching and thumbs tracing circles. The sun had creeped down in their minutes spent on the roof, and the deep gold light felt like the complete wrong mood to accompany Mike’s burning cheeks, his heart and his mind racing, his stomach doing somersaults. It seemed too picturesque for his fumbling. But not for Will. Will, whose jaw was so close and so perfect, his fingers gently nestled in the fabric of Mike’s jacket. He looked, felt, like an angel.

The kiss was short; Mike thought he would just about die if it went on for any longer than it already had. It felt wrong, no, dirty. He felt dirty, but that was a direct contradiction of how right it seemed to be here with Will, holding hands, leaning into each other, pressing their foreheads against one another and laughing breathily. They pulled away from each other finally, hands still interlocked.

Mike decided to ignore the shame at the pit of his stomach, because really, the moment felt so perfect. It fell into place like a puzzle piece that had been lost, its discovery completing the image that’d been in the works for who knew how long. Mike wanted to stay like this forever, arms wrapped around each other.

“Will?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He said the words with ease, an ease that surprised even him. The three syllables came so naturally, even when he’d struggled for so long to say them to his own girlfriend. He worried, stupidly, that Will would scoff, or that he’d just imagined the kiss.

He searched Will’s face for any sign of disgust, but it yielded none. Will’s cheeks were tinged pink, breath coming in a stunned series of inhales and exhales. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, smiling before he spoke. “Yeah. I love you too.”

The moment was surreal; it was almost as if Mike was watching it through the lens of someone else’s eyes, watching as he smiled and leaned back into Will, and as his expression shifted. Brows knitting together a little wistfully, smile twisting bitterly, heart thudding blissfully. It was hard to decipher what he was feeling. The emotions jumped around before they could be named, twisting up inside of him, so he figured they could be pinpointed later. For now, though, he could just hold Will’s hand as the sunset fell into completion, leaving the sky dark.