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Will’s no stranger to brutal wake up calls, whether he’s forcefully reminded that he’s fundamentally different, or whether his stomach’s turning to lead with that familiar chill creeping up on him, it seems that he’s unable to have a genuinely happy moment without reality unexpectedly crashing into him. He doesn’t know why he expected this time to be different.
After all these seemingly stable months living at the Wheelers and getting his best friends back, a false sense of security settled itself inside his chest. He’d still get anxious from time to time but he was reluctant to let Vecna’s looming threat shatter his newfound contentment. Bit by bit he smothered the very real danger that threatened him and everyone he loved in favour of nights spent with Mike in his basement, laughing and reminiscing. It was a welcome contrast from those months spent in California and his last summer in Hawkins, he wouldn’t ruin the wonderful change of pace with his usual ruminating.
He thinks, even then, he knew he was living on borrowed time and now he’s being forced to face what he’d been ignoring. No matter how often they happen, the wakeup calls never hurt any less. In fact, as the shrill chimes split through his skull, he’s not sure he could be in any more agony.
Only seconds ago he and the party were looking over drafts of future plans to fix or even completely stop Vecna’s destruction of Hawkins. Ironically he’d thought this is ridiculous, he hasn’t shown up in ages we don’t have to prepare yet, deep down he knows that’s naïve, he could look at the billowing clouds of smoke above them and see that, however ignorance really is bliss.
Well look where that got him.
His friends were talking and his mind was elsewhere, in a fog. It was like his thoughts were swimming in honey, everything was slowed. His confusion was only brief as everything was rudely cleared up by that sinking dread. He turned to see his old yellow bike abandoned on the floor as if it were still 1983, its dodgy light shining deeper into the forest.
He glanced behind him, his friends were statuesque, oblivious smiles solid in place. The familiar sensation of loneliness befell him, he’d have to do this like he’d done when he was 12, alone. He followed the cold glow deeper into the woodlands, where he now finds himself stuck in place in front of a strangely familiar grandfather clock.
With each ear splitting sound, dread submerges his willpower deeper and deeper. That’s when a low growl of a voice floods his veins with ice. The hypnotic swing of the grandfather clock halts as if it knows he’s speaking. “Will Byers, your time has come, your suffering will be no more.”
Although he’s nowhere to be seen, Will feels his overbearing presence like he’s all around him, engulfed in him.
When he tries to respond he sees a round face, kind wrinkled eyes, an inviting smile, short mousy brown hair and a bland radio shack worker’s uniform. However before he can scream go away exactly like he’d done years ago, images of a million needle-like teeth ripping apart flesh render him silent and sick. Tears prick his eyes and the only response he can muster up is a trembling, measly “no.”.
A cruel laugh rumbles throughout his mind. “You’ll see, you were picked for a reason.”
He only gets a few seconds to feel so devastated with confusion and impending grief until a familiar melody brings him back to reality.
When his sight clears all he sees is Mike’s pale face and broken expression. Both his hands are gripping Will’s shoulders so tightly that his knuckles are white. Because Will’s pathetic and has gay tunnel vision, the first thing he croaks is “Mike.”.
Over the voices of The Clash, Will hears Lucas’ scoff and Dustin’s snort but he doesn’t look away from Mike, who still looks terrified. “You- are you okay? You weren’t moving.” Mike stutters out, not quite recovered or aware yet. “It was like that day on the field all over again” He doesn’t speak this part, rather he breathes it out quietly, like he’s realising it as his thoughts catch up.
Dustin and Lucas look sympathetic and opt to ignore Mike’s worry, as if to give him privacy. “Will, what happened?” Dustin asks, still not shutting the radio in his hand off.
Will hesitates, he doesn’t know what it means and he’s already thinking the worst, he doesn’t want other people thinking it too. He also doesn’t want to lie. “Can I tell you guys later? I- my head is still going a thousand miles a minute.”
Dustin looks a little embarrassed and nods quickly “Yeah, of course, yeah”
“Yeah.” Lucas agrees, patting Will on the back kindly.
Will turns his attention back on Mike. “I’m okay, Mike.” He tries to reassure, despite not really feeling okay. This gets him an absent nod “Yeah, yeah you’re fine, you’re right here.”. His grip tightens on Will’s shoulders but then he seems to shake himself and his hands fall from where they were. Will misses their grounding warmth almost immediately.
They all separate a bit, except for Mike, glued to where he’s stood, they’re all miserably failing at gathering themselves. “Dustin, you can shut that off now.” Lucas points out, a little bit of humour now lining his tone. Dustin snaps himself out of all the anxious thoughts probably running around his mind “Oh yeah, although we should keep it on this station, y’know just in case.” He tries for a weak smile.
“How’d you guys even find the exact right station, playing the exact right song?” Mike drops his eyes to the floor, while a knowing smile grows on Lucas’ face . “Well, this is Mike’s radio and he just loved to mope annoyingly when you were gone so he found this super specific station playing your music so he could mope more effectively.” He snickers as he says this and Dustin rolls his eyes at the memory. Will suddenly feels very warm, a nice switch from the cold moments ago.
This seems to snap Mike out of his anxiety, as he rushes to defend himself “Oh it’s moping now, to listen to the same music as my best friend?”
“You do not want us to elaborate on your dramatics, you know you were ridiculous.” Dustin warns. Mike opens and closes his mouth like a fish for several moments before huffing in frustration, crossing his arms and doing his best bitch face. Stupidly, this has always made Will swoon so he tries his best not to be too obvious.
“We should go tell the others, this is serious.” Lucas has sobered now, no longer wearing his shit eating grin, his eye bags appearing more pronounced. Everyone deflates at this and they all nod silently in agreement. They shove everything from the picnic table into their backpacks and Dustin and Lucas start making their way out. Will goes to follow until a pale hand ,lightly placed on his arm, stops him.
He turns to face Mike, a question on his lips but it’s immediately punched out of him with the touch of two long arms wrapping around his shoulders. Mike buries his face into Will’s neck, making himself smaller. When he manages to stop being flustered Will reciprocates the embrace with just as much fervour. They hold each other like that for a little while, it’s familiar in a more delicate way, it helps Will shortly return back to that soft basement glow. The sensation of Mike’s face pressed to his neck, his hair tickling the side of his face, could remove Vecna’s cold in an instant. Unfortunately, they can’t stay like this forever, so they part, although Mike’s still gripping onto Will by his arms.
“He gets you and I’m powerless, it’s happened non-stop since we were 12. He takes away your presence like it’s nothing, but it’s not- it- it’s so bad, Will.” Mike’s eyes glisten, haunted.
“You’re not powerless, you always save me Mike, even when he’s got me I’m still with you, I remember you and that’s what gets me back, every time.” He reassures as strongly as he can, Mike should never underestimate how much people love him, especially Will.
Finally, Mike smiles and it’s an overwhelming relief “Yeah?”.
“Yeah.” He returns the smile, also teary eyed. “Come on, we have to go tell the others.” He nods his head to the exit a little sadly.
“You’re gonna be okay, I promise.” He sounds so sure now, like he’s got his mind set on making it happen. Will trusts him entirely.