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The cabin is too small for this many people. Too hot, too suffocating. The storm outside rattles the windows, wind howling through the trees, but inside, the air is thick with a different kind of pressure. The kind that makes Mike’s skin itch, his stomach churn.
Maps, papers, notes—useless. They’re spread across the table like they mean something, like they’re helping. But they’re not. Nothing is.
Will is gone.
And nobody is doing anything.
“We have to go down there.”
Mike’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp and desperate. He stands in the center of the room, fists clenched at his sides, begging someone to listen to him.
The conversations don’t stop immediately, but they stutter, slow. El looks up at him first, wide-eyed and hesitant. The others—Hopper, Joyce, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, Robin, Dustin, Lucas, Erica, Murray—exchange glances, their exhaustion palpable.
“Mike…” El’s voice is soft, cautious. “The gates are guarded—”
“I don’t care about the gates,” Mike snaps. His voice is raw, his breathing unsteady. “I don’t care how dangerous it is. We have to go now.”
Robin shifts, glancing at Steve. “This is giving me major déjà vu.”
Steve exhales through his nose. “Yeah. Been here before. Didn’t end great.”
Mike ignores them. “We have to move. We have to do something.”
“Mike, we are doing something,” Nancy says, trying to keep her voice even. “We’re trying to figure out the best way to—”
“The best way?” Mike lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. His hands shake as he gestures wildly at the mess on the table. “The best way is to go down there and find him. Not sit here playing board games while Will—”
He stops himself before his voice cracks. His breath comes in short, sharp bursts.
Will is out there. Alone. Afraid.
And they’re wasting time.
“We don’t even know where he is,” Jonathan says. His voice is tight, controlled, but there’s panic behind it.
“We don’t even know if he’s still—” Dustin stops himself. His jaw clenches. He doesn’t finish the sentence.
Mike’s stomach drops. He knows what Dustin was going to say.
If Will is still alive.
Heat rushes to his face. His pulse pounds.
“I don’t care,” he breathes. His voice is shaking, but he doesn’t care. “We have to try.”
“Mike…” El reaches for him, but he takes a step back.
“This isn’t like before,” Robin says, quieter now. “Vecna’s stronger. We don’t have the upper hand this time.”
Mike shakes his head. “So what?” His voice is rising, the anger bubbling over. “We just give up?”
“No one is saying that,” Hopper says firmly.
“Really? Because it sure as hell feels like it!”
Hopper rubs a hand over his face, trying to stay calm. “Mike. I know you’re scared—”
Mike barks out a laugh. “Scared? Scared?” His breath hitches. His whole body trembles. “Will is gone, and we’re just standing here.”
“We’re not standing here,” Nancy insists. “We’re coming up with a plan.”
“A plan?” Mike throws his hands in the air. “Great! Do you have one? Because standing around and talking about one doesn’t count.”
“We’re being careful,” Steve says, pushing off the wall. “Because rushing in blind is gonna get us all killed.”
Mike snaps.
“I DON’T CARE IF I GET HURT!” His voice cracks under the weight of it, tears burning at the edges of his eyes. “I CARE ABOUT GETTING WILL BACK!”
Silence.
Thick, suffocating silence.
Joyce lets out a quiet, pained sound. She steps toward him, reaching for him, her arms wrapping around him before he can stop her.
And for a moment, Mike lets it happen.
For a moment, he feels the warmth, the comfort, the way she holds him like he’s her own son.
His chest heaves. His hands shake. He grips the back of her sweater, holding on like he might fall apart if he lets go.
But then—
Reality crashes back in.
They’re still here. Will is still gone.
Mike jerks back, shaking his head. “We’re wasting time.”
Hopper steps forward. His voice is low, steady. “Freaking out isn’t helping.”
Mike’s hands ball into fists. “I have a plan.”
“No, you don’t,” Hopper says. “You have a death wish.”
Mike glares at him, his chest burning. “I’m going. With or without you.”
“The second you try, I’ll drag your ass right back here,” Hopper warns. “You think I’m gonna let a sixteen-year-old march into hell on a goddamn suicide mission?”
Mike’s throat closes. His pulse pounds in his ears. The whole room spins.
Nobody understands. Nobody cares as much as he does.
He opens his mouth to scream, to fight, to do something—
But then, a hand grips his arm.
Mike whirls around.
Lucas.
Mike blinks, startled. “What—”
“Come on, man.” Lucas’ voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. “Let’s go outside for a second.”
“No.” Mike yanks his arm back. “We don’t have time—”
Lucas doesn’t let go. “You need to calm down.”
Mike glares. “I am calm.”
“No, you’re not,” Lucas says, unshaken. His grip is firm, but not forceful. “Come on.”
Mike hesitates.
The room is too loud. Too full of eyes staring at him—some with pity, some with frustration, all of them waiting for him to either break down or shut up.
His stomach churns.
With a frustrated sigh, he shoves Lucas’ hand off but stomps toward the door anyway. He throws it open, stepping out into the cool night air.
Lucas follows, closing the door behind them.
The second the door clicks shut, the weight in Mike’s chest doubles.
The air is cool, crisp, but he feels like he’s burning. His arms are crossed so tightly over his chest it hurts, his nails digging into his sleeves, his whole body coiled tight like a wire about to snap.
Lucas just watches him.
Mike glares. “What.”
Lucas exhales, slow. “Sit down.”
Mike’s eyes narrow. His muscles twitch with frustration. “No.”
Lucas doesn’t move, doesn’t react, just stares at him like he’s waiting. Like he’s not gonna argue, like he’s just gonna keep standing there until Mike does what he says.
The silence stretches. It feels like it’s pressing in, suffocating, wrapping around Mike’s ribs and making it hard to breathe.
And then, after too long—
Mike moves.
But not to sit. He turns toward the door, shifting on his feet, restless. “I need to get back in there—”
Lucas grabs his wrist. Not hard. Just firm. Steady. Enough to make Mike stop in his tracks.
“Sit down,” Lucas says again, voice low, calm.
Mike’s chest burns. His hands shake. “We’re wasting time—”
Lucas’ fingers tighten around his wrist. “Sit down, Mike.”
Mike rips his arm free. “We don’t have time for this, Lucas! Will is out there, and you want me to just sit here and talk—”
“You need to calm down.”
Mike snaps.
“Calm down?!” His voice breaks, sharp and raw. His hands ball into fists, his whole body trembling. “How the hell am I supposed to calm down when Will is missing?!”
His voice shatters the quiet.
Mike sucks in a shaky breath, rubbing aggressively at the tears that keep threatening to fall, his entire chest aching with the effort to hold himself together.
“You don’t understand,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper.
Lucas watches him carefully.
Then, voice quiet, he says, “I do understand.”
Mike’s head snaps up.
His stomach twists. “No, you don’t.” His voice is sharp, full of something dangerous—like if Lucas keeps pushing, keeps pretending like he gets it, something inside Mike is going to crack open.
Lucas doesn’t flinch. He just looks at him—really looks at him.
“I do,” he says, voice firmer this time.
Mike shakes his head. “You don’t—”
“I do.”
Mike exhales, shaky, and finally sits down on the steps, dropping his elbows onto his knees, pressing his hands against his face. His shoulders tremble. His breath shudders.
Lucas sits next to him.
They stay in silence for a beat.
Then—
“I understand what it’s like to be so scared you don’t even know what to do with yourself,” Lucas murmurs. “So scared that you want to try everything—even if it’s stupid, even if it’ll get you killed—just to get them back.”
Mike freezes.
His chest tightens.
“Trust me Mike…if I knew Max was on the other side of that gate,” Lucas continues, voice thick, “and not just… in a coma, I’d be jumping in, too.”
Mike’s heart stops.
His breath catches.
Lucas is in love with Max. He loves her. That’s why he’s saying this. That’s why he would jump in after her.
Because he loves her.
So why is he saying it’s the same?
Why is he looking at Mike like he understands?
Mike’s stomach drops. His hands clench. His skin prickles with something close to fear.
Does Lucas—?
Does he know?
Mike’s throat tightens. His whole body locks up.
“It’s different,” he says too quickly.
Lucas turns to look at him.
His expression is soft. But his eyes—his eyes are knowing.
Too knowing.
“No,” Lucas says gently. “It’s not.”
Mike’s stomach lurches.
His whole body tenses.
“Yes, it is,” Mike insists, voice thin, cracking. “Because Max is your girlfriend.” His breath stutters. His heart is pounding. “And Will and I—we’re just—” He pauses.
He can’t finish the sentence.
Lucas stares at him.
Mike feels like he’s being seen in a way he’s never been seen before. Exposed. Like Lucas is peeling back the layers, looking right into his soul.
Mike swallows, hard.
Lucas knows.
Mike feels it.
And then—Lucas speaks.
“No, it’s not.”
Just that.
Simple.
Certain.
Like it’s fact.
Mike’s throat closes.
His eyes sting.
His hands start shaking.
He’s about to say something—to deny it, to fight it, to say anything that will make this moment go away—
And then Lucas pulls him in.
Mike’s whole body locks up.
For a second, he’s frozen, stiff, terrified. He’s never talked about this. Never let himself feel it for too long, never let anyone see it.
Lucas sees it.
And he’s hugging him anyway.
“It’s okay, man,” Lucas says, quiet.
Mike stops breathing.
His chest shudders.
His shoulders fall.
And suddenly, without thinking, he’s clinging back.
Like if he lets go, everything will fall apart.
Lucas holds on tighter.
Mike presses his forehead against Lucas’ shoulder, shaking. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking.
Lucas squeezes him. “You don’t have to be sorry.”
Mike clenches his fists into Lucas’ hoodie, breath hitching. His chest feels too full, like there’s too much inside him and he doesn’t know where to put it.
But he stays there.
And Lucas just holds on.
When they finally pull away, Mike’s face is red, his cheeks streaked with tears.
He sniffs, rubbing a hand across his face, embarrassed.
“Sorry,” he mutters again.
Lucas shakes his head. “Don’t be.”
He meets Mike’s eyes. “We’ll find Will.”
Mike swallows.
Nods.
And—for the first time since Will disappeared—
He believes it.