Chapter Text
November 20th 1987 6 AM
Mike is the last one of the Party to leave, wandering out of the hospital room with a small wave and a careful grin. But Will can still spot the slight furrow in his brows, his forehead creased with concern.
Then he’s gone, all in a matter of moments. Will lies there in the dim light of the stuffy, half-cold private room, silently wishing he’d had more time. Maybe he should’ve called out and asked Mike to stay. Though that would be hard with his mom sitting beside his bed, slumped in a chair. The events of the past few days have been an utter whirlwind, and all he wants is just one moment with Mike to talk. To talk about anything. He doesn’t even care what.
The Party were obviously concerned about Will’s health, but he could see it on their faces— they were mostly just relieved that it’s all over. Sure, there’s going to be tension for a while as things settle back to normal, but Will can tell his friends will be okay. They’ll get back to their lives, head off to college, lead happiness-filled futures with whatever they can dream of. Nothing’s stopping them now.
As for Will, the relief he expected after defeating the thing that’s plagued him since he was twelve hasn’t come. Instead, his heart feels empty.
A few seconds after everyone’s gone, Will swears he can hear it—Mike’s laughter, ringing sweet and genuine from down the hallway. He’s fine. He’s okay. And shit, that’s supposed to be a good thing. Will should be happy.
But there’s something that won’t go away. Will has been freed of the Mind Flayer. He and everyone worked their hardest to rid him of that sickness, those memories, wash them all away. He has defeated Vecna. But what Will can never be free of, never defeat, is this .
Will stares at the door, conscious that Mom is probably trying to get his attention, but he can’t. He’s too focused on what the hell his life is supposed to look like now. Will this be like that one summer when the only thing everyone could focus on was their happy lives while Will was stuck in the past? Except this time, there won’t be a horrific monster to distract them. He’ll be stuck on the sidelines. Forever.
“Will?” Mom’s voice breaks through, the only sound in the room.
His breath hitches, growing heavier. This is so much. It feels like there’s something lodged in his chest, begging to be set free—before this winter, before the rest of his life, is haunted by it.
Will’s eyes sting, and the view of the hospital room door where Mike had left blurs. He wants to say it’s not fair, that after all this fighting, he doesn’t get what he wants. But maybe this is how it’s supposed to be—he’s supposed to be alone and silent forever.
A hand grips his shoulder. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”
Oh God, she knows something’s up. If he can’t hide it now, how is he ever going to hide it from the person who matters most? Trying to take a deep breath to calm himself, Will feels the warmth of his tears spilling over his cheeks. He braces himself for the inevitable, shutting his eyes as his chest shakes with panicked breaths, the weight of the future pressing down on him.
“Will, hey, are you hurting anywhere?” Mom says frantically, leaning forward in her chair, which screeches against the hospital floor. Will shakes his head, sniffling when he feels her hand on his forehead, brushing his hair away.
He feels himself start to break. He has so much. So many people care about him. This is his Mom, the mom who risked her life dozens of times for him. But he still can’t be grateful.
After a few seconds, he opens his eyes and looks away from the door, meeting Mom’s concerned gaze as she glances over him, as if checking for something physically obvious. Will often believes that sometimes, people can see what’s plaguing him. They can see the other monster, the one that doesn’t come in shadow or flesh form. The people of Hawkins talk about it enough, whispering about his clothes, his attachments.
Maybe his mom can see it too. And would that be so bad? This shouldn’t be so hard. It should be easy to make this decision—if he doesn’t do it now, he might never do it, and what kind of life will that be?
Will squeezes his eyes shut, letting the tears fall.
Mom wipes some of them away, her eyebrows cinched with concern. “It’s gonna be okay now, Will.”
He wants to scream. He wants to shout at her, No it’s not! It’ll never be! But that’s not fair. He swallows the lump in his throat, knowing that her simple assumption—that he’s crying because of everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours—isn’t true. He opens his mouth.
She waits, her hand continuing to stroke gently at his forehead, and the roots of his hair. It’s comforting.
“I love him,” he gasps out before a small sob escapes.
He wants to close his eyes, to shield himself from whatever Mom’s reaction could be, but it isn’t what he expects. She doesn’t tilt her head to the side, confused. She doesn’t frown or look angry.
Instead, Mom glances at the door, her gaze hesitant. Dread stirs in Will’s stomach as she sighs, staring at the spot Mike had just been before leaving. Is it a good sigh? A tired sigh? A sigh from a mother who’s just heard that all the things she’s tried to protect him from are true?
Will feels himself getting worked up again, audible whimpers escaping his throat. He replays what he just said in his head. It didn’t feel terrible. Saying it was…new. It was different.
Before his mom can speak, Will sobs out, “I do. I love him, Mom,” choking on another hiccup.
She jerks her head toward him, rushing to lean forward as Will begins to cry properly, tears spilling out of him in hot, anguished waves. This feels like it’s been building for a long time.
Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for him, pulling him into a tight, sincere embrace. Will’s body shakes with each sob, his arms pressed against his chest, trying to hold it all in but failing. He feels too raw, too exposed. Everything spills over.
Beneath his sobs, he can just make out his mom shushing him gently, her fingers stroking the back of his head, grounding him a little. The pain is still there, though, pressing on his heart and tightening his chest at her response. He can’t tell if this is what he wants, but he lets himself sink into it, finding some comfort in knowing that she wouldn’t hold him this way if she hated him for it.
Moments pass, and he soon hears, “Will, look at me.” At first, Will shakes his head, burying his wet face into her sweater. As much as he wants to talk about this with her, as much as he cares about how she feels, he just can’t.
Carefully, she unwinds herself from his tight grasp, slow and steady. Will keeps his gaze low, more tears clinging to his bottom lashes, threatening to fall. Softly placing her hands on his shoulders, Mom simply says, “It’s okay, honey.”
Will shakes his head instantly, feeling even more on the edge of tears now that he’s heard her voice, which trembles with emotion, making it clear she’s close to tears herself. She’s wrong. This is not okay. Nothing about this is okay.
“I…” He starts, his voice cracking violently. “I don’t kn-know what to do. I’m so sorry, I…” He trails off, the lump in his throat making it impossible to continue.
Tears well up in Mom’s eyes now, and she’s quick to wipe them away, shifting so that she’s more in line with Will’s gaze. “Hey, hey , don’t apologise—”
The weight of all that he’s admitted feels suffocating, too much to carry. There’s so much packed into that simple admission of love for Mike that it’s threatening to burst, and Will can’t help but interrupt, “I should have—have told you sooner, I’m sorry,” he whimpers weakly, his voice thick with congestion. “It’s just…so hard. I’m so… I’m so scared, mom.”
He breaks down again, but this time, Mom is quick to cup his face gently in her hands. “Shh, baby, I’m here, I’m always gonna be here,” she whispers. “And you have nothing to be sorry about, okay?”
That’s not totally true, though, right? Will’s kept a secret, one his mom trusted him to tell, but he’s hidden it his whole life. He shakes his head numbly, leaning his forehead against her shoulder in defeat.
After a few seconds, Mom’s hand stills on Will’s back. “Honey?” she asks carefully. “What you said—is it about Mike?”
Will nods slowly, sniffling as his stomach plummets. His skin feels like it’s on fire, burning with a million tiny needles. This is the first time he’s admitted it to anyone, let alone someone he cares about. He’s admitted it to himself, millions of times—almost like an act of self-harm—but never to another person.
“Sweetie,” she says brokenly, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“But Mom—”
“It’s never wrong to love someone, baby,” she says, her voice firm yet wonderfully earnest. “Never.”
Every part of Will fights against it, urging him not to hope. He’s so used to feeling hopeless, to thinking no one could truly understand him in this way. But something warm begins to unfurl in his chest. He hears his mom’s words, letting them flow through him. Somehow, he already knows this is true. It can’t be wrong to love Mike, not when it feels like it’s the only real part of him. But so many things in his life have told him otherwise.
And this also means…his mom is okay with it. Not just with him loving Mike, but with everything that comes with it.
He nods shakily, glancing away to sniff and blink rapidly.
“You can tell me anything,” Mom continues, her words wrapping around Will like a warm embrace. “You can always, always confide in me, Will. Never forget that, okay?”
Will feels a smile tug at his lips, something he never thought would be possible for a long time. He sniffles as Mom smiles back, the corners of her eyes crinkling. He closes his eyes for a moment, relishing the feeling of her gentle fingers scratching his scalp, a quiet comfort. He lets himself sink into the relief, allowing it to wash over him—at least one problem is solved. His mom knows him. She still loves him.
And he can tell her anything. He wants to. “I…I just—don’t know what to do. I need to—”
“Listen,” she whispers, her voice calm and collected despite the tear streaks on her cheeks. “I know it may seem hard right now, baby. But I promise you, things will get better than this.” Will looks down, finding that hard to believe.
“You really think so?” he asks tentatively, finally feeling a trace of his true self returning.
“I do,” Mom replies. Will tries to match her confidence, but a part of him still slumps, doubting her words. She must not understand the true extent of his feelings. “Of course, time will tell. But no matter what happens, no matter what , I’ll be here. Because I love you.”
Will looks up, swiping the back of his hand across his face to wipe away the wetness. The thought of finally being able to explain everything he’s had to endure, everything he’s wanted to say for years, soothes him a little. Now that he thinks about it, it calms him more than he expects. He guesses that was half of his problem—keeping it all inside from other people too, not just Mike.
“Thank you,” he whispers, the words heavy. He tries to smile, and though his lips tremble, Mom smiles back, her eyes full of affection. “I love you too, Mom.”
Her face crumbles just a little, but her smile stays. “Oh sweetie, I’m so glad you told me,” she says, holding her arms out. Will lets himself collapse onto her shoulder again, breathing in her familiar mom-scent of laundry detergent and cigarettes. “You know nothing will stop me from loving you, yeah? Nothing in the world.”
Will exhales a little chuckle, happiness rising inside him. “Y-yeah.”
“And I’m so proud of you,” she says quickly, her voice thick with emotion as she leans back and presses her hand against his heart. She momentarily forgets about the freshly patched-up wounds near the area, but the tenderness in her touch makes it not matter. “It must have been so hard keeping all of this inside.”
“Yeah,” he responds, offering a small smile, unsure of what else to say.
He expects her to stop, but Mom keeps going, “You’re amazing, you know?” Will feels his face flush, quickly looking away. “You really are. And Mike would be…” She pauses, blowing out a breath as Will turns to glare at her. “...so lucky to have you.”
Will curls in on himself. “ Mom , come on,” he whines, his voice still slightly thick. But this is comforting, it’s so nice to have someone know. “Stop.”
She chuckles lightly, and so does he, suddenly noticing the soft light pouring in through the blinds. He wants to bask in it, in this warmth, even if it’s only temporary. Eventually, their laughter fades, and Mom sighs.
“You’re so brave, baby. You know that?” Will shrugs, his gaze dropping to his lap. “Does it…feel better now that you’ve told me?” she asks earnestly, her voice filled with hope.
Will takes a deep breath, trying to assess how he feels. He’s done something brave, according to his mom. After all that spiralling, things are finally starting to look up. Maybe she’s right—things do get better, even in such a short time. There are still challenges ahead, but this feels like a change. He can ask for help now. He has people around him who love him; that’s nothing but progress.
“Yeah,” he whispers, feeling happy tears sting his eyes. “It does.”