Chapter Text
The sun had barely started to rise over Hawkins casting a soft orange glow through the trees. The Byers household stirred awake slowly, the air thick with quiet that wasn’t quite peaceful. The creak of the front door echoed through the small house as Jonathan Byers walked around, his footsteps dragging along the wooden floors.
Joyce sat at the kitchen table, her head bent over a stack of bills and some paperwork, her short nails tapping absently against the surface. She looked up as Jonathan shuffled in, offering him a tired smile.
"Morning," she said, her voice soft but still strained. "You feeling ready for school?" Jonathan grabbed an old slightly cracked mug from the cupboard, pouring himself some coffee.
"Yeah. Just tired," he muttered, not quite meeting her eyes as he sat down across from her. He took a sip of his coffee, the quiet between them feeling heavier than usual. Joyce studied him for a moment, her fingers pausing.
"You know, if you need to take a day–"
"I’m fine, Mom," Jonathan interrupted firmly, the way he often did. He tried forcing a small smile, which he didnt succeed in, before turning his attention back to his mug.
Down the hall, Will was already awake, staring at the ceiling as the light filtered through the window blinds. His room was like a patchwork of old posters, crumpled sketches, and little remnants of childhood he couldn’t quite let go of, or maybe he’d never truly had the chance to live it.
His mind churned with the weight of unspoken thoughts, and most of them circled back to Mike.
He still wasn’t sure when things had changed between them, but they just had. The memories of their friendship, and of their closeness, it just felt like fragments he couldn’t quite piece together anymore.
Then, his gaze drifted to the picture on his desk, a picture of him and Mike from just a few Halloweens ago.
It was the year Max had joined their group, the year Mike still truly cared.
Will got up and picked up the photo. His fingers brushed lightly over the paper, tracing Mike’s face. He also remembered that Halloween all too well. Mike bringing him home when he got hurt, and Karen calling them into the kitchen before they could retreat to the basement to take polaroids of the two boys. It had felt effortless then, like they could be themselves without anything getting in the way.
But now . . . now there were too many things unsaid, too many walls between them.
Joyce’s voice called out from the kitchen, breaking his thoughts.
"Will, honey come on!" Will sighed, the picture slipping from his fingers as he stood and grabbed his Hellfire Club shirt from the back of his chair. Pulling it on, he made his way slowly to the door.
At the Wheeler house, Karen rushed around the kitchen, pouring orange juice into glasses and setting out toast, while Holly and Nancy’s chatter filled the room. Ted sat at the head of the table, hidden behind his newspaper as usual.
Upstairs, Mike’s room was quiet, except for the faint hum of his old radio playing in the background as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the cluttered floor. His room was a chaos of books, games, and posters, his walls still painted the same blue they had been for years.
Inside his closet door hung a mirror, it’s surface was scratched and slightly fogged at the edges. Mike’s gaze lingered on his reflection before drifting to the top left corner, where a polaroid of him and Will was tucked into the frame. They were smiling in the photo, happy in a way that now felt weirdly distant. His stomach churned as he quickly looked away, grabbing his backpack and shutting the door abruptly.
He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to feel the way he felt every time he thought of Will, or even worse, the way he felt when he thought about El.
Karen’s voice echoed from downstairs.
"Mike, breakfast! You're going to be late!"
"Yeah, okay!" Mike called back, throwing on his Hellfire Club shirt as he hurried downstairs. At the table, Nancy stood with her car keys in hand, already looking impatient.
"Oh, good morning! Did you forget it’s 10 after? We’re going to be late," she said sharply. Mike scratched his head, muttering something unintelligible as Nancy followed him, rolling her eyes.
The car ride was normal like always. Mike stared out the window, his fingers tapping anxiously against his knee. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the road, but it felt dimmer somehow, more muted. Nancy kept her eyes on the road, her lips pressed into a tight line. She knew something was off with Mike, she’d known for weeks. But every time she tried to ask, he brushed her off with a joke or a quick excuse.
Today, she didn’t even bother trying.
Jonathan’s car rolled into the school parking lot, its tires crunching against the loose gravel as he backed into an empty space. In the backseat, Will sat with his headphones on, staring out the window as students ran around outside. His backpack rested on his lap, his fingers idly tracing the edges of the zipper, more out of habit than of intention. El sat beside him, twisting the bracelet on her wrist, the beads clicking quietly with each rotation. She occasionally glanced at Will, searching his expression for . . . anything. But Will’s gaze stayed fixed on the cars all turning into the parking lot, his eyes scanning each one as if he was searching for something. But in truth, he was watching out for Nancy’s car, which of course, also meant Mike. His fingers tightened slightly around the strap of his backpack as his heart thudded in a weird rhythm he didn’t fully understand.
When Nancy’s car finally pulled into a space near the entrance, Will let out a breath. The moment the car came to a stop, he and El climbed out of Jonathan’s car almost in sync, eager to get the day started, or at least El was. Jonathan lingered behind for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped out. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and he kept fidgeting with the strap of his messenger bag. Across the lot, Nancy stepped out of her car, wiping her hands on her jeans and pushing her curly hair out of her face. She glanced around before her eyes landed on Jonathan. With a small smile, she walked over to him, her boots clicking softly against the asphalt. Without hesitation, she leaned in and kissed him.
"Morning," Nancy said, chuckling a bit, tucking her hand into Jonathan’s as they started toward the school building together.
"Morning," Jonathan replied, his voice soft. He cast a fast glance back at Will and El, giving Will a quick nod, and watching as they made their way toward the entrance.
Will and El walked side by side, the soft breeze tugging at El’s hair as she kept fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. Will’s gaze, however, was already ahead of them, locking onto a familiar figure standing by the front steps: Mike. He was talking to Dustin, the two of them gesturing about something, probably a D&D campaign or some Hellfire-related plan. As they approached, El’s lips twitched into a small smile.
"Hellfire is today?" she asked, turning her head to Will. Will didn’t respond though, too caught up in the sight of Mike to fully process what she’d said.
"Oh hey, guys!" Dustin called out, waving them over as soon as he noticed them. Mike glanced up, his gaze briefly meeting Will’s before quickly flicking to El.
"Hi! Mike!" El replied, her smile widening as she approached him.
"Hey," he said, his voice a little louder than usual, and without hesitation, he wrapped his arm around her. El leaned in for a kiss, and Mike reciprocated without much thought, though his movements seemed almost rehearsed. As he pulled away, he kept his arm around her, turning to face Dustin and Will with a smile.
"Did you guys hear?" Dustin asked, his voice practically buzzing with excitement. "Eddie’s got this wild plan for the next Hellfire session."
As Dustin started giving an enthusiastic explanation, Will stood slightly to the side, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He couldn’t stop glancing at Mike, who seemed almost forcefully focused on Dustin. But every now and then, Mike’s eyes would slip towards Will, only to look away extremely fast, like he was afraid of being caught. El, standing beside Will, didn’t miss the subtle glances between the two boys. She tilted her head slightly, her brows furrowing as she tried to piece together what was going on. Something felt off, but she mainly ignored it. The conversation continued, with Dustin doing most of the talking, but for Will and Mike, it felt like the world had narrowed between them. Neither of them said much, but the unspoken tension lingered.
. . . Later that day, 3rd period art.
The art room smelled like paint and old wood, with a faint buzz of fluorescent lights filling the quiet spaces between the shuffling of papers and clinking of brushes in jars. Will sat at the far corner of the room by the window, his art project open as he held a paintbrush in his hand, though he hadn’t done much yet. His fingers hovered uncertainly over the paper as if the ideas in his head refused to cooperate with his hand. Mike sat next to him, close enough that their elbows nearly touched, though he seemed just as unsure about what to do.
His hands were resting on the table, staring at the piece of empty paper in front of him, and he kept glancing at Will . . . like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite figure out how to start. None of their other friends were in the class, barely anybody was in this class. The art teacher up front and 4 other kids at the front of the room.
When Will started quietly painting again, his strokes light but deliberate, he didn’t look at Mike, but the way he shifted in his seat gave away that he could feel the weight of Mike’s gaze. Mike cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the stillness.
"That’s . . . really good. What you’re painting." He said, pointing to the painting slightly. Will stopped mid-stroke, looking up at Mike with a flicker of surprise. Compliments from Mike weren’t exactly a common occurrence these days.
"Thanks," he said softly, his lips curving into the smallest hint of a smile. He glanced down at the page, a half-finished drawing of a fantasy landscape, complete with towering mountains and a small figure standing on a cliff edge.
"Is that . . . supposed to be us?" Mike asked after a moment, leaning slightly closer to get a better look. His voice had a kind of hesitance to it, but there was genuine curiosity there too. Will nodded, his fingers tightening slightly around the pencil.
"I guess. I mean, not really us, but, you know, inspired by us. Like, remember that time we used to pretend we were going on quests? Back when we were kids?" Mike’s face softened, his eyes lingering on the small figure Will had drawn.
"Yeah," he murmured, almost to himself. "Of course I remember." The awkwardness melted, just for a moment, as they both got lost in the memory. Mike leaned his chin on his hand, watching Will paint with a tenderness that neither of them had felt in what seemed like forever.
But then, a sharp sound of laughter broke through the calm between the two. A group of basketball players strode past the open door of the art room, their voices loud and confident as they joked with one another. Mike’s posture immediately stiffened, his shoulders going rigid as if he was bracing for impact. Will noticed. Of course he did. He always did.
He glanced up from the painting, his brow furrowing slightly as he watched Mike’s expression shift. Mike’s jaw was tight now, and he stared down at the desk like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
"They’re not even looking at you," Will said quietly, trying to ease the tension he could feel radiating off of Mike. But at the same time, a irritation came through his voice too.
"I know," Mike replied quickly, almost too quickly. His hands fidgeted with the zipper of his hoodie, and his eyes flicked toward the doorway before coming back to the table. Will didn’t push it. Instead, he just picked up his paintbrush again and kept painting, the silence between them no longer awkward but almost fragile, like glass that could shatter if either of them spoke too loudly. Mike finally let out a small breath, leaning back in his chair.
"Sorry. Your painting," he said again, his voice softer this time. "It’s . . . it’s really cool, Will." Will glanced up at him again, his lips parting as if to say something, but then he just smiled a real, genuine smile.
"Thanks, Mike." And for the both of them, for a moment, that was enough.
. . . later that day again, Hellfire Club
The drama room was dimly lit, props and costumes were stacked against the walls, and the thick, red curtains hanging on the stage made the room feel almost otherworldly, like a hidden lair.
The Hellfire Club had claimed the space as their own, transforming it into the perfect setting for their campaigns.
Eddie Munson stood at the head of the table, his Dungeon Master’s screen propped up like a shield. His hair and theatrical gestures made him look like he belonged in a heavy metal album cover rather than a high school D&D club. He was mid-monologue, narrating the party’s latest encounter with some monsters, but honestly Mike wasnt listening. He sat hunched over his character sheet, doodling in the margins instead of paying attention, while Will sat across from him, nervously rolling his d20 over and over.
Will kept sneaking glances at Mike, waiting for him to look up, to say something . . . or anything. But Mike’s eyes stayed fixed on the table or darted to Eddie when prompted. He didn’t even glance in Will’s direction, and it made the air between them feel suffocating.
"Alright, heroes," Eddie declared dramatically, slamming his palms on the table hard to grab everyone’s attention. "You’ve managed to track the beholder to its lair, but now comes the impossible part . . . deciding who’s brave enough to charge in first." His dark eyes scanned the group, lingering just a second longer on Mike and Will. The others dove into a heated debate about the best strategy, their voices overlapping in excitement. Will stayed quiet, gripping his dice tighter. His character, Will the Wise, had the highest intelligence score and normally he’d offer some guidance. But tonight, his mind wasn’t fully on the game.
Mike was still scribbling absently, his shoulders hunched and his head low. He hadn’t said a word since the session started, and it didn’t escape Eddie’s notice. Eddie leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the two boys.
"Wheeler," Eddie called out, his tone playful but firm. "What’s it gonna be, dude? You storming in, or uh- are you leaving the heavy lifting to the wizard here?" He nodded his head toward Will. Mike froze for a moment, his pencil hovering above the page. Slowly, he looked up, but of course not at Will, but at Eddie.
"Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll go first." His voice was flat, and he barely made eye contact.
Will frowned, his grip tightening on the edge of the table.
"That’s . . . that’s not a good idea," he said softly, but it was enough to make everyone pause. Mike’s head jerked up at the sound of Will’s voice, and for a split second, their eyes met. Something flickered there, maybe uncertainty or guilt . . . maybe even regret, but just as quickly, Mike looked away, his jaw tightening. Eddie raised an eyebrow, his fingers drumming on the table. He was no stranger to tension, and whatever was happening between Mike and Will was obvious. But he wasn’t the kind to pry. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.
"Alright, alright," Eddie said, his tone light but pointed. "Dustin, go ahead. Sound good?" Dustin agreed and started Will nodded quietly, his eyes still on Mike. But Mike didn’t respond, his attention already back on his binder, his pencil moving aimlessly.
The game continued, but the energy at the table felt off. Dustin noticed it too, casting confused glances between Mike and Will but not really saying anything. Lucas however was oblivious to the undercurrent, and kept rolling dice and cracking jokes, trying to keep the mood light. By the end of the session, the party had survived the encounter, though barely.
Eddie wrapped up the night with his usual flair, but as the others packed up their things, his gaze lingered on Mike and Will.
As they left the drama room, Will walked a few steps behind the group, his heart heavy. He didn’t know what was going on, but one thing was certain. Whatever battle Mike and Will were fighting, it wasn’t fully in DND.