Chapter Text
Mike’s body slowly started to wake up, and he groaned as the sun jabbed him in the eyes. The light shone through his yellow curtains and blinded him for a moment.
He threw his hand over his face, muttering some choice swear words under his breath and turned sideways to look at Will sleeping on the small camping bed beside his.
Mike hated the idea of Will sleeping on the floor, but Will never complained. He would ask if he wanted to join him on the bed, but…
Will wasn’t in his bed. His blanket was crumpled on the mattress. He reached down to touch his pillow. It was frozen cold.
Will’s gone. He’s missing again.
He jumped up. He ran out of the room, starting to panic. He sprinted into the kitchen. His brain was spinning. His entire body was shaking with fear. Mike’s heart was beating somewhere near his Adam’s apple.
It was happening again.
The memories from four years ago, that horrible week, they were all flooding back in vivid detail.
“Will!” he shouted. “Will!”
His voice cracked as he yelled and his lungs felt as though they were collapsing in on themselves.
“Yeah?” A voice said in the living room.
He walked over to the archway where the kitchen and living room split.
Will was painting in the corner.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Is something wrong?” Will said, putting down his paintbrush.
“No! Nothing’s wrong!” Will looked confused but went back to painting.
Mike’s muscle memory took over and he lazily walked over to the counter to grab some pancakes. Dustin’s Forever Clock sat on the table ticking softly. He sat down at the table.
When Joyce got a new job, she was finally able to afford proper paints for Will, and his skills had skyrocketed since middle school. He would never say it to Mike’s face, but Will was heartbroken when they arrived back in Hawkins without the painting supplies he’d left in California.
Mike knew that Will would say it was stupid, that there was much larger shit going down, that his paints didn’t matter, but Mike wouldn’t stand for that. The minute Will let slip that he missed painting, Mike ran into Nancy’s room, “borrowed” some money from her piggy bank, biked across town to the nearest crafts store, and bought as many acrylics as he could lay his hands on. Will accepted them, but reluctantly.
He was always doing that, insisting that he didn’t need anything. Mike found it super sweet, but also really sad. He never knew why. Will, having suffered through so much shit, deserved everything in the world, and yet he refused everything, insisting he didn’t need it.
Will wouldn’t let anyone see what he was painting, but after seeing that masterpiece that Will had made for him as a commission from El, he didn’t doubt for a second that it would be beautiful.
But when El had broken up with him, he couldn’t bring himself to hang it up. That gem was lying, collecting dust, in the back of his closet. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at it. Those things Will had said…
He wanted it so bad to be Will. To be Will’s words, not El’s. He felt disgusting, horrible, for not loving El the way he should. When El had told him, in the sweetest voice, that they should just be friends, he had felt relieved. He was happy.
Mike had also been confused. Will had said El needed him, that he made El feel wanted.
Why had Will told him that?
What had he done wrong?
His thoughts drifted back to Will’s painting. Will’s whole upper body seemed to sway along with the brush, his body in tune with the strokes. It was like his body was one with the painting. His eyes reflected the colors of the painting, the yellows, and greens bouncing off his hazel eyes.
Will was always so…
“Mike?” A voice broke through his thoughts.
“Huh?” Mike muttered, blinking rapidly.
“You were staring,” Will said, momentarily moving his brush away from the painting.
“I was just…” he started, running his fingers through his hair nervously, desperately trying to think of a decent excuse. “Just…trying to guess what you were painting. No one’s seen it yet.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that,” Will said, sighing. “The colors aren’t quite mixing right. Maybe it’s the canvas. But, I’ll figure it out.” he said, putting on a resolute face.
Mike thought he looked really cute when he did that face. “You know, you could always paint on me.” He said jokingly.
Will stared at him for a moment, looking him up and down. “Okay,” he said, walking towards him, bringing a couple of paints over to the table.
Mike's mouth fell slightly open, flustered. He tried to say something, but Will had already gently lifted his chin with his index finger and thumb. He dipped his brush into the green paint and meticulously dragged it along Mike’s cheek. Mike was lost for words. His face was burning and he hoped Will couldn’t see him blushing.
Will’s face was so close…
A searing pain shot through Mike’s head and he flinched. Will pulled away, his face full of worry.
“S-sorry,” he said. “Did I do something wrong?” He backed further away. “Jeez, Mike, I’m sorry, I should have asked–”
“No,” Mike said, cradling his head in his hands. “That was okay. More than okay. I mean…” he realized he was rambling and he tried to swing the conversation away from what had just happened. Will’s face had been inches away from him, he could still remember the way his breath felt on his face…
He couldn’t let Will see that.
“My head…” he mumbled, digging his nails into his head. It felt like someone had stabbed a pole through his head, like the guy they had learned about in Mr. Clark’s class.
Will’s face went pale. “Mike,” he said, barely louder than a whisper. “Your nose…”
Mike reached up to touch his face and felt blood pooling beneath his nose.
Vecna.
Will rushed over to him, put his arm around his shoulders, and walked Mike to the bathroom. He took a towel from the rack and ran some cold water over it. He pushed Mike’s head slightly back and gently dabbed the towel against Mike’s face. “Will, I’m fine, I promise,” he said, pushing Will’s hand away. “Call the others. El’s with Dustin and Lucas at the hospital.”
Dustin had been staying by Lucas’s side almost every day since they’d gotten back. El sometimes went with them, to talk to Max and try to go into her mind, but to no avail. Mike couldn’t bring himself to go back again. Max lying in that hospital bed, her eyes blank and staring…
Will stared at him for a moment and then rushed into Mike’s room. Mike followed him. Everything around him was moving in slow motion. His brain seemed to finally catch up with his surroundings.
“Anyone, do you copy?!” Will said into the Supercom, his voice shaking. “This is a code red, I repeat, a code red! Over!”
“What?!” Dustin, El, and Lucas’s voices all responded in unison. They all sounded tired, but alert. “Did something happen? Over.”
“Vecna’s got Mike,” Will said breathlessly.
Mike heard the mixed voices of all of them, but his brain didn’t fully process it.
Vecna had him.
He was going to die in less than a week.
He heard the click of the Supercom switching off and knew his friends were coming.
Will walked across the room and put an arm around Mike. “Mike, it’s okay.”
Mike chuckled. “Okay,” Will said, chuckling too. “It might not be okay right now, but it will be. We won’t let him come near you. I won’t let him.”
Mike’s face flushed. Will’s knee brushed against his.
He leaned forward, feeling Will’s breath on his face, smelling that faint smell of paints and mint. He was so close that he could count the freckles on Will’s nose.
What he wanted, what he needed, it was all right here, sitting right there. The entire goddamn world was sitting next to him.
He looked up into Will’s eyes and realized what he was doing.
He backed away, his mind reeling.
He jumped up out of bed and nearly tripped as he ran through the bedroom door. Will called out to him, but he was already in the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him, his breath coming in short gasps. His legs threatened to collapse under him, and he gripped the sink with both hands. He looked up into the cracked mirror and saw the tears pouring down his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop them, but they only fell faster.
He had almost kissed Will.
William Byers.
His best friend.
How could he ever look at him the same?
Will, who had helped save his relationship with El.
Will who had been sleeping in the same room with him for over six months.
Will had been sharing a room with a sinner.
A fairy.
A fag.
His stomach lurched. He felt bile rise in his throat. He retched and fell, slipping on the slick tiles. He crawled over to the toilet.
He had the vague impression someone had opened the door behind him, but all sound was extinguished once the vomiting started.
“Mike?!” He heard a voice behind him when he finally finished throwing up the last of his pancakes. “Mike! Holy shit! Are you okay?”
Will.
Of course, it was him.
It was like the world was cursing him, punishing him for who he was. Will sat next to him, putting his hand on his back.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” he said, wiping his mouth on this sleeve.
He wasn’t okay though. It felt as though someone had unzipped his stomach and let his guts spill out.
“Probably just Vecna fucking with me.”
“You sure?” Will said, his hand slowly moving up his back until he reached the nape of Mike’s neck. Something was different about his voice…
“Are you sure there’s not something wrong with you?”
“What?” Mike said, trying to turn towards Will. Will’s hand shot up and grabbed a fistful of Mike’s hair.
“Will, that hurts! What the f–”
Will’s hand clamped over his mouth, Mike struggled against Will’s hold, but he tightened his grip on Mike’s hair. He moved closer to Mike’s ear.
“Are you sure, Michael?” he repeated. His voice was getting deeper. Mike tried to yank Will’s hand from his mouth, but his fingers tightened.
“You run so far. Far from your family, far from your friends, and yet you never seem to be able to run from yourself.”
Mike shoved himself backward, knocking Will off of him. He turned around and found himself on the edge of a cliff.
The quarry.
He looked out over the water. It seemed to call out to him.
Jump.
Maybe this was the answer. This was what everyone wanted. What he wanted.
His feet were almost over the edge…
He stopped and started backing away.
No.
Not today.
He remembered that day, with Dustin. He had jumped so fast, so easily…
“I know what are you, Michael,”
Mike whipped around. A figure was emerging out of the fog.
“Do you think the other can’t see it? Your difference. It’s so blatantly obvious, it’s sickening. They all despise you. But I understand you, Michael. I can give you what you want.”
Mike stuttered, unable to form words, his feet slowly backing further and further away from Vecna. His chest was heaving and it felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest.
“I can give you anything you want, but I need something in return. You have something I want.”
Mike felt his heels go over the edge and he stumbled. He stared up into Vecna’s eyes and saw something there.
He wanted something.
Something he couldn’t get without Mike.
“I’d n-never give anything to y-you!” Mike managed to stutter, hand trembling. He hated how scared he sounded. Vecna took another step closer. Mike stepped back and his body flew backwards. He was falling, feeling the air flying past him. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to ignore the feeling of déjá vu.
But El didn’t save him this time.
His back slammed into the water. The air was knocked from his lungs and he felt the water pressing all around him, suffocating him. He pushed upward, staring at the light. His arms and legs ached with effort, and his lungs were burning.
His head broke the surface and he breathed what felt like the Breath of Life. He saw the shore just a few feet away. He swam, thanking God he had caved and taken those stupid swimming lessons. His whole body felt like it might shatter into a million pieces and his muscles were screaming in protest, but he kept pushing.
Twenty feet.
Ten feet.
Five feet.
He crawled out into the sand, coughing, and spluttering. He saw a pair of feet and he jumped up, staring at the person in front of him. It was Will. His eyes widened.
This thing he was staring at…
It wasn’t his Will. His skin was deadly pale, his purple veins shining through his face.
His eyes…
His once beautiful hazel eyes, the soft ones that could light up a room, were gone. They were sewn shut, blood pouring from each stitch. Blood spattered onto the sand by Mike’s feet.
Mike screamed and tried to run. Run away from this thing, this being, that was not his Will.
The thing grabbed his wrist. Mike struggled against the pull, but it was too strong. He tried to ignore the blood spattering up his arms from the thing’s eyes.
“Take me to him.”
Its voice was horrible. It grated against Mike’s ears so badly, he grimaced. It sent needles through his head. The thing was gripping his wrists so hard, that his fingers were starting to go numb.
“W-w-what?” Mike spluttered. But he knew exactly what it meant.
The thing Vecna wanted from him was Will.
Will shoved his arm upward and he flew backward again. His eyes rolled back in his head and felt himself falling into someone’s arms.