Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Despite the fact that it was June, Hawkins was still cold.

Will stood on his pedals as he biked up Cherry Lane, a road he’d known better than the back of his hand before the Upside-Down had split rifts through Hawkins. The rifts themselves had calmed down since March, when Nancy had blasted Vecna out a three-story window, but ‘calm down’ was a relative term for portals to another dimension. They weren’t actively spreading or billowing toxic smoke — at least, not yet. For now, their effect was largely limited to the damage done in March: splitting open roads, felling trees, collapsing houses, and, of course, the nightly threat of something crawling out.

Two-thirds of Hawkins’ population had cleared out within days. Those who stayed either chose to, or didn’t have a choice in the first place. Max’s mom was living in a motel that had been turned into a shelter, along with many others who didn’t have the money to leave. They all tried to keep some semblance of normalcy, even as Dr. Owens and the military descended upon the town. Hopper had retaken his old job as chief of police. Kids still went to school. Ted Wheeler had lost his job to the earthquake, and so Karen now worked as a hairdresser on the days when the air quality wasn’t too bad.

Will’s heart tightened in his chest, and he stole a glance at the tall, lanky, black-haired boy riding about ten feet in front of him. Mike remained oblivious, leaning to the side as they turned onto Dearborn, and Will stole the opportunity. Like him, Mike was dressed for the weather: jacket, long pants, scarf over his nose and mouth, and gloves; but unlike Will, Mike had a sword strapped to his waist. He’d first picked up the weapon shortly after they’d gotten back to Hawkins, when Murray had declared Hopper’s cabin as base of operations and insisted the kids learn how to fight. Mike’s mom had absolutely freaked out, and it had taken Hopper and Joyce almost two full hours to get her to calm down and let Mike train. Lucas’s parents and Dustin’s mom had reacted similarly, but once Karen relented, they soon did the same, and Murray had gotten back from Illinois with a truck bed full of weapons. Among them had been pistols, rifles, boxes full of knives, a few guns Will was pretty sure were illegal, a crossbow Lucas had claimed immediately, and an honest-to-God sword . It had laid at the bottom of the truck bed, sheathed and worn-looking, but Mike’s eyes had lit up the second he’d seen it. 

Woah, he’d breathed, reaching past the assortment of guns to close his fingers around the hilt. A awestruck smile had traced across his face as he pulled it out, like King Arthur pulling the sword from the stone, and Murray had glanced up immediately.

You’ve used one before? Murray had asked, eyeing the way Mike held the weapon. 

Mike had hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. Yeah.

Murray and Hopper had started training him almost immediately. Mike would beg Will and their friends not to watch his training sessions, insisting that it was horribly embarrassing, but they did anyway. Will had lingered on the porch of Hopper’s cabin one April morning, watching Hopper and Murray shout Mike through his paces in the center of the camp they’d constructed. Mike had stumbled from the trailer to the tents and back again, shifting through feints, jabs, and lunges, trying to get through Hopper’s guard as Murray barked commands from his lawn chair.

Will had been spellbound.

Mike tied up his hair when he practiced, or when he knew he was going to fight, and every time without fail, it sent Will’s brain into a skittering mess. Seeing Mike run through his forms at base camp, dressed in jeans and a loose tank top that left his taut, wiry arms free to move as he swung his blade, stopping occasionally to yell back at Murray, his cheeks flushed, his messy dark hair swaying behind him —

Will had forced himself to avert his eyes. His cheeks had burned, and he’d almost ran the whole way to the shooting range, cursing himself and stupid Mike Wheeler and whoever had convinced him to grow out his hair.

Mike looked good with long hair. Will had decided that the moment he’d seen him wearing that atrocious outfit in California: His clothes are awful, but fuck me, he’s grown his hair out. Mike would later confirm Will’s suspicions that Max had advised him to wear those tacky clothes, and Will had sworn to himself that when Max woke up, he’d sneak her as many snacks through hospital security as possible. He pretty much owed Max his life now, because if it hadn’t been for that goddamn outfit, he would’ve folded like a deck chair. 

Now, Mike was wearing a fleece-lined bomber jacket over a flannel and a Ramones t-shirt, and Will was screwed.

Will averted his eyes from his friend again, his cheeks burning against the air that should’ve been warm. Ever since the elementary school had opened back up (the high school still largely being used for relief effort and army coordination), Mike had biked with Holly there and back every day, even after he started living at base camp with Nancy and the rest of them. In the beginning, Nancy had biked with Mike, honoring the ‘buddy system’ she and Hopper always insisted upon. But, as the military had come in, and Vecna started stirring again, Nancy had gotten wrapped up in detective work, and Mike could no longer rely on her every morning and afternoon.

That was when he’d asked Will to go with him instead.

I mean — if you don’t mind, he’d said, his dark eyes flicking down to the dirt. Will had been trying to teach the other members of the Party how to shoot, but was now completely and utterly distracted. Mike had rubbed his elbows, chewing on his lip. Holly said she misses you.

They went over together the next morning. The first week or so, it had been awkward, but as they got on their bikes and took the same route they had as kids, despite everything, they seemed to slip back into that instinctual rhythm. By week two, they were trading subtle remarks as they passed one another, by week three, they were teasing each other, and by week four, they were laughing and yelling to keep up conversations as they tried to race. They’d behaved themselves when Holly biked with them — at least, until she’d started to remind Will of himself. The look in her eyes, the quiet horror as she stared at the ash falling from the sky, the silence that followed her like a ghost —

We should teach her how to play D&D, Mike had suggested one day, out of the blue.

Will had almost ran his bike into the curb. Wh-what?

Y’know, he’d continued, oblivious to the way he’d flipped Will’s mood with just a few words. To help her with . . . all this. I dunno. Mike’s eyes had skimmed the pavement as it whizzed below them, then flicked over towards Will. 

And if there was one thing Will could always do, it was read Mike’s emotions like the Bible.

Do you think it would help?

Will had practically stumbled over himself to blurt yeah, yeah, definitely, and just like that, the gap between the two of them had shortened. Will had felt like his chest was bubbling over with a fizzing, stupid kind of joy, only it wasn’t all that stupid, because that afternoon, they stayed at the Wheelers’ house until curfew, teaching a gradually more eager Holly how to play their favorite game. 

After that, the three of them were unabashed nerds around each other. Will found himself looking forward not just to playing D&D with Mike again, but with Holly as well, to steal back a few precious hours as the three of them ventured into fantastical lands that felt infinitely more comfortable than the one they were living in. Mike DM’ed, and as he crafted campaigns for Holly, the distant air around him that had lingered since California seemed to thaw. There was still a gap between the two of them, left by months of no contact and ways they’d hurt each other and things Will couldn’t ever bring himself to say, but day by day, he hoped that gap was closing. 

Because day by day, that nerdy, passionate, fast-talking Mike Wheeler he’d fallen in love with years ago had begun to emerge again.

Now, as they turned up towards Maple, the music from Mike’s boombox seemed to increase in volume. Will and Jonathan had spent their first few days back in Hawkins making mixtapes for everyone on the floor of Hopper’s cabin, and now no one went anywhere without their tape and a walkman. Dustin had rigged a boombox to the back of Mike’s bicycle so they could listen to music as they escorted Holly back and forth from school, just in case Vecna tried to attack one of them.

However, as the song moved into the chorus, Will began to offhandedly wonder if Vecna had managed to get him anyway.

And I’m not the kind that likes to tell you

Just what I want to do

I’m not the kind that needs to tell you

Just what you want me to

They were playing Will’s mixtape, currently at New Order’s Age of Consent. It was his own fault that the tape was full of mopey songs, but this one in particular, playing right now, felt like some kind of cruel joke. The song was exactly how these bike rides with Mike felt: an upbeat rhythm with faintly sad lyrics. Fleeting joy, like a good memory, but also lingering sorrow that Will desperately wanted to ignore. He was able to tune it out most days.

Not today.

I saw you this morning and thought you might like to know

I received your message in full a few days ago

Mike stole a glance over his shoulder. When he saw Will was still there, his eyes brightened, and a hint of relief flashed over his face. 

I understood every word that it said

And now that I’ve actually heard it

You’re going to regret . . . .

The song continued, but Will and Mike glided to the side of the road and came to a stop in the Wheelers’ driveway. The Wheeler house hadn’t been hit hard by the earthquake, but there were still signs of damage — cracked wood, askew shingles, a slight list — that lined up with almost every other house in the neighborhood. Mike and Will left their bikes in the driveway, as always, and didn’t bother to hit PAUSE on the boombox before shuffling up to the Wheeler’s doorstep and knocking.

“You’re slow today,” Mike pointed out, squinting at Will. A slight teasing smile tugged at his mouth. “What’s up with that?”

“Didn’t sleep much,” he fibbed, and thank God, Mike seemed to buy it. 

“Ugh, me neither,” Mike groaned, tipping his head. “Murray made me spar with Hopper last night — like, really spar, and I swear, dude, he’s gonna put my ass in the ground one of these days.”

Will snorted, leaning against the wall. He’d missed this — the way Mike would ramble around him, as naturally as breathing. “He has been nicer since El dumped you, though. You’ve gotta admit that.”

“Ugh, yeah, but like —” Mike rubbed his eyes. “He’s gone from actively wanting to kill me to, ‘if I stab Mike, well then, whoopsy-daisy!' Y’know?”

Will couldn’t help but grin. Everyone had seen the way Hopper trained Mike, meticulously and relentlessly. Will knew it came from a place of wanting to keep them all alive, but he also couldn’t discount the sheer animosity that used to radiate off of Hopper whenever he was within fifteen feet of Mike. The breakup had successfully reduced that fifteen-foot radius to five, but it was still very much there. “Yeah, I know.”

The door swung open, and Mrs. Wheeler appeared, looking more frazzled than normal. Will glanced out on the street, instinctively checking for any possible threats. They hadn’t run into any demodogs here in a bit, but activity all over town had been ramping up in the past few weeks.

“Hey, Mom,” Mike yawned. “Is Holly ready?”

“She —” Mrs. Wheeler’s breath came in gasping bursts. Will glanced back, and saw that her eyes were pink and blotchy with tears. “Mike, I went to wake her up, and she —”

Will’s heart plummeted into his stomach.

“She’s g- gone. ”

No.

Any hint of exhaustion in them vanished immediately. Mike bolted past his mother, his voice pitching as he ran into the house, yelling, “ Holly? ” Will was right behind him, his skin going cold with terror.

Any other day, Holly would've heard them and come bouncing down the stairs, sometimes yawning, other times bright-eyed at the sight of them. Karen would make sure she had everything while she started talking to Will and Mike about her friends or school, but mostly D&D. She would pester them to know when they could meet next for a session, bouncing on the tips of her toes with a kind of lightness Will hadn’t seen in her since before he’d left for California.

Now, the house was dead silent.

Will waited, his heart pounding in his throat, but there was no pitter-patter of feet on the stairs, no yawn of five more minutes! or cheer of hiii!, no sight of Holly’s round, bright face.

No. No. Will’s heartbeat sped up. No, not again, not Holly, please, God, not Holly —

Mike’s shoulder brushed against his.

Will looked up. His friend’s face was even paler than usual, his eyes wide with horror, and that shocked him back to reality. Mike’s little sister had just gone missing. He had to focus.

That, and . . . having Mike there always made Will feel more grounded. 

“Let’s check her room,” Will decided, his voice still a bit raw. He glanced over his shoulder at Mrs. Wheeler. “Was that the last place you saw her?”

Karen nodded, tears welling in her eyes as she pressed a fist to her mouth. “You — you don’t think —”

Will tried to make his voice as gentle as possible, even though he knew it would have no effect. “We need to rule it out.”

Next to him, Mike drew in a sharp, strangled breath. Will glanced over at him. Mike wasn’t just pale, his eyes had gone unfocused. 

“Hey.” Will reached out and brushed his wrist. “Mike.”

That shocked him back to reality. Mike blinked, managing to stem the torrent of panic for a moment to choke out, “Yeah, good idea —” and they were bolting up the stairs together. Mike ran down the hall, past his own bedroom, and threw open the door to Holly’s room.

It was like any other kid’s bedroom: brightly colored, floor littered with toys, bed piled with stuffed animals, except for the fact that there was no kid to be seen. It looked like she’d just left. Her character sheet was laid carefully on her desk next to the set of dice Mike had lent her, and the blankets and stuffed animals on her bed were tossed askew, like she’d just woken up.

“Oh my God,” Mike whispered, knotting his fingers in his hair. His breathing began to quicken. “M-maybe she left early?”

It was highly unlikely, but at this point, Will was similarly looking for any possible alternative. The two of them thundered down the stairs past Mrs. Wheeler and out back onto the driveway, where — clear as day — Holly’s bike remained leaning against the garage door.

“Fuck.” Mike’s voice pitched, his features contorting with panic as he unslung his backpack. “I — I have to call Nancy, I have to —”

“Yeah,” Will whispered back. His mouth was dry. “Call Nancy. Call Nancy, I’ll just . . . .”

He stumbled over to the sidewalk, and the situation hit his shoulders like a sack of bricks. 

Holly.

There was no doubt in Will’s mind as to what had happened, and the horror of it seized him by the throat and shredded his nerves to atoms. He knew damn well how people could vanish into thin air, their surroundings only slightly disturbed, looking as though they might come back at any moment.

It had happened to him. 

Will stumbled over to the nearest lamppost, leaning against it as he tried to suck in more oxygen. No, his horrified mind whispered, locked in a loop of words. Not Holly, please God, not Holly, don’t make her go through this, don’t let her feel what I did —

Vecna. That fucking creep had his hands on her now. Will knew it in his bones, in the prickle on the back of his neck. He dug his fingers into the lamppost, his stomach churning, but he worked up the guts and whispered, “Vecna.” 

The name landed on flat air. Nothing happened.

Will’s eyes burned. He clung to the telephone pole, his fingers digging against the metal in frustration. Holly was in danger. Holly was in danger, and he had to do something. These past few years — the fear, the trauma, the nightmares, the dread —  

He couldn’t let that happen to someone else.

Will took a shaky breath and reached into the back of his mind, that little dark corner he spent most of his life trying to ignore. That dark corner held everything that had happened that week in the Upside-Down, and it was where the Mind Flayer had latched onto afterwards. After he'd gotten exorcised, its pull had shrunk somewhat, but that little corner was still the shadow that flickered in every corner, the curtain of darkness over potential danger, the chill on the back of Will’s neck. 

As he let the coldness of it sweep over him, he reached up, and tugged down his jacket collar. 

“Henry,” he whispered. His voice was barely more than a breath, but the name brought a chill in the air that brushed against the back of his neck. “I know you're watching me. I know you're listening.” Will tried to swallow down the lump squeezing his throat. His stomach tingled, like he was about to step off a ledge, but he grit his teeth and said, “I want to talk.”

For a moment, all he could hear was a cold breeze as it rustled through the trees. No birds sang, no animals moved, no cars rolled down the street. There was just the wind, and the cold. 

Then, Will looked up, and saw him.

He might’ve once been a man, but had since been overcome with mold like a month-old meatloaf in the back of the fridge. His skin was gray and warped. Tentacles wrapped around him until they blended with his skin and muscles, coming out from him.

“William.” Vecna’s face twisted in a smile. His voice was deep and grating, like a mountain during an earthquake, and it was the voice Will heard in his nightmares. “I was wondering when I’d get to speak with you.”

Will sucked in a trembling breath, fighting the urge to run. Nancy and El had described Vecna to him, but — God. This guy was ugly. Shadows seemed to bend towards him as he stepped out from under the tree in the Wheelers’ front yard, like they were trying to do everyone a favor and hide him from the world. This guy — he was the reason for everything. The Mind Flayer, Bob’s death, Max’s coma, Will’s kidnapping, the dread that had chased him for years — it had all been because of this ugly son of a bitch. And now he wanted Holly, too.

Anger swelled in Will’s chest, and so he used that to push forward. “Where is she? ”

“Holly?” Vecna made a humming sound, that sick smile contorting his ruined face. “Where do you think she is, William? Where did you go?”

Will’s throat tightened, and he suppressed the urge to glance over his shoulder. Where had he gone, upon entering a dark, cold world?

Home.

Holly was probably still in her room, hiding in the closet or under her bed, crying softly to herself as monsters prowled outside.

“You’re going to leave her alone,” Will said, his voice low and trembling. Fear pumped through his veins, but at least for the moment, the anger burning in his chest was stronger. “We’re gonna come in, we’re going to rescue her, and you’re never going to touch her again.”

“Why?” Vecna tilted his head, veins and tentacles pulsing. Those pale, milky eyes narrowed onto him, boring into his soul, bringing back half-buried memories of vines and teeth and choking cold. “Why should I let her go?”

Will tried to swallow down the last of his fear, but his throat felt like sandpaper. He could not let this happen to Holly, to anyone , ever again. No kid should have to wake up in a dark, twisted mockery of their own home, stumble through the cold as nightmares chased them, choke back sobs in a desperate bid to stay quiet as monsters prowled just a few feet away. 

Will wasn’t a kid anymore. He knew what waited. He knew what death looked like. He had a choice, and making it was hardly even a question. 

“Take me.”

Those milky eyes fixed on him, and a warped brow lifted, as if asking Will to repeat himself.

Even though the cold seeped into him, like he was drifting backwards into a freezer, Will lifted his chin.

“Take me,” he said again, his voice still shaky, but he held Vecna’s gaze. “Take me instead of Holly. I’ll come to you. I won’t fight. Just —” Will’s breath hitched, and his eyes burned. “Just finish it already.” 

Vecna was silent for a long, agonizing moment, but then, a smile curled across his twisted face.

“Deal.”

“WILL!”

Will’s eyes flew open. He was standing in the street, next to the lamppost, his feet on solid ground, and the only thing keeping him from falling over as his knees buckled was a pair of firm, bony hands. 

Hands whose imprints he’d know in his sleep.

Mike filled his vision, large dark eyes and a pale face framed by messy black hair that swept around his cheekbones as it tumbled down to his shoulders. His features had gone completely bloodless, paler than usual, contorted in an expression of sheer panic. 

“Oh my God, Will.” Relief crashed briefly over Mike’s face, and his voice shook slightly. He didn’t let go of Will’s shoulders, if anything, he held on tighter in a way that made Will’s heart skip a beat. His lips parted, quivering as his eyes shone, and words tumbled out of his mouth in a breathless rush. “What happened? What was that? Are you okay? Was it —”

“Mike,” Will croaked, and he realized he was close to tears. His heart was in his throat, making it hard to breathe, and his head spun from it all. Feebly, instinctively, he reached out for Mike, one of his hands curling around the other boy’s wrist. His fingers closed around the fabric of Mike’s jacket, but Will still felt like he could feel Mike’s pulse beneath it, racing, alive.

Something Will wouldn’t be for much longer.

His knees buckled again, more violently this time, but Mike caught him, gently lowering them both to the ground. He still didn’t let go of Will, those huge brown eyes swallowing every part of him until Will’s breath felt like broken glass. 

“Hey,” Mike breathed, his brows creasing upwards, his face pulled into a heartbreaking look of panic and worry. “Hey, just — just breathe. Breathe. What happened?”

Will tried, clinging to the other boy’s jacket like it was his last tether to the world of the living. His mind was a whirl of shock and dread, spinning for a few moments before something new smoothed it out.

An odd wave of serenity swept over Will, the kind that plugged up his tears and instilled iron in his gut; the kind of courage that comes after biting back tears and whispering, what else can I do?

“Mike,” Will said again, forcing himself to sound somewhat steady as his gaze traveled over Mike’s face, the freckles he’d count when he was a kid, the jawline that had sharpened with time, the cheekbones and the line of the nose he’d sketch absentmindedly, the lips he’d thought about in stolen moments of guilt, and the soft, knowing, caring eyes that had always been the same. Will indulged a few more seconds in studying him, this boy who’d been by his side for years, who never gave up on him without a fight, who made him feel brave when all the world was collapsing, then whispered, “I know where Holly is.”

Chapter Text

Two weeks ago

Will woke up to his sister shaking his shoulder.

They shared the bedroom in Hopper’s cabin, which hadn’t been nearly as awkward as Will had expected it would be. In a weird way, the forced proximity had helped them. Upon arriving back in Hawkins, Will had been hit with a wave of jittering nausea that Dr. Owens called ‘C-PTSD’, and had instinctively tried to isolate himself.

Eleven, depressed after failing to defeat Vecna, had tried to do the same. 

Instead of retreating to separate spaces, they sat together, Will drawing, El reading or staring at her blankets, until their personal torrents became too strong and one of them burst into a tumble of words. Back in Lenora, Will had sometimes woken up with the gut feeling in his stomach that something was wrong. He’d stumble out of bed and down the hall, running to the cracked-open door to El’s bedroom, always open three inches. She had nightmares. He had them too. He’d sit next to her in the darkness of her room and together, they’d breathe. El always felt better when someone else was in the room with her, someone she trusted. Will soon learned that was something they had in common. Now when he woke up in the middle of the night, gasping from dreams he couldn’t remember, he could look across the room and see El, blinking awake, brushing aside her curly hair to ask, What’s wrong?

Now, she was looking down at him with a bright-eyed grin that woke him up immediately.

“We are going swimming,” she said, in that way she did when she’d already made up her mind. She lifted her chin, her eyes sparkling, and Will fought hard to say no.

“El,” he groaned, raking a hand through his hair. “’S not safe, what if —”

“It is warm outside,” she said, pointing to the window. Indeed, sunlight streamed through the clouds for the first time in weeks. “And Jonathan said it’s warm enough at the quarry to swim. The cold hasn’t gotten there yet.”

Will sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes. “But — what if —”

“ Will .” El sat down on the edge of his bed, her lips drawn in a pout, and he knew he was done for. “I am — recovering from a break-up. Nancy says I must do fun things.”

He stared at her. “You dumped Mike two months ago.”

“Yes, so he is coming with us.” She grinned, and tossed an old pair of swim trunks at him. “Come on!”

“Alright, fine,” Will laughed, catching the blue trunks. Eleven beamed with victory and skittered out of their bedroom to let Will get dressed, pulling the door shut behind her as she called out for their friends. 

Will shuffled out a moment later, wearing a ratty old Cure t-shirt that had once belonged to Jonathan, and thanking whatever God existed that the swim trunks still fit. The living room bustled with his friends, Dustin chasing Mike with a bottle of sunscreen, Eleven pink-cheeked and giggling, Erica shaking her head, and Lucas, who’d been so melancholy these past few months, managing a smile. That smile turned into outright laughter as Mike tripped over a table leg and Dustin ran into him, the two of them going down in a tangle of yelling and cussing.

“Oh my God, we’re never going to leave,” Steve groaned from the doorway, rubbing his temples. He had a towel over one shoulder and a backpack hanging from the other. “Wheeler, just put on the goddamn sunscreen! Your pasty ass is gonna burn to a crisp if you don’t, and we need to leave soon if we’re going to be able to visit Max after —”

Mike popped up from behind the couch, yelling, “ Fine! ” as Dustin cackled in victory. He snatched the tube of sunscreen from Dustin and huffed, his cheeks bright red. He was wearing a faded Empire Strikes Back t-shirt, which he hesitantly pulled off.

Will twisted away like he’d just barely avoided seeing the Ark of the Covenant and went to find his tennis shoes. His heart pounded uncomfortably in his chest, sending far too much blood to his cheeks. He’d seen Mike shirtless before. He’d seen Mike shirtless hundreds of times, so how hard could this be? He could easily look at a shirtless Mike Wheeler without fainting like a repressed Victorian. He could do it. He’d be fine.

Well, why not try? whispered a little piece of his mind. Test it? Just a quick peek, see how you react —

Will almost put his head through the wall. It didn’t help that he’d seen Mike’s bare arms several times in the past few months. As Mike trained, getting better and better with his sword, his arms had gone from thin to wiry and taut, and Will couldn’t look at him without feeling his mouth go dry. 

“Okay!” Steve barked. “Everyone’s got towels? Guns? Sunscreen? Walkmans? Money for popsicles? I’m not paying for your shit this time!”

They all chorused yeah, yeah , and Will tore his gaze away from the wall. Steve was standing near the open door, sunglasses flicked over his eyes and a cup of coffee in one hand as he surveyed them all. Mike had put his shirt back on, and relief crashed over Will, though not unaccompanied by a distinct twinge of disappointment. 

“Great!” Steve pointed out the door. “Get in the goddamn car!”

They tumbled past him and out into the clearing, laughing and heading for Steve’s BMW. In front of Hopper’s cabin, a small camp had sprung up since March, as no one really wanted to be far from one another. It wasn’t much, just two commandeered trailers and a few tents in the clearing, but it was their fortified little corner of Hawkins, and in the past few months, they’d eked out a strange sense of normalcy. They’d usually start days with a quick breakfast before Mike and Will biked off to bring Holly to school, and when they got back, Murray, Hopper, or Nancy would put them through weapons training. They’d eat lunch before going into town to run errands, patrol the rifts and gates, escort Holly back from school, and sometimes, they’d get in a D&D session with her before they had to head back to camp. Once Dustin, Mike, and Lucas’s parents had learned that Eleven basically had superpowers, they’d felt infinitely better about their kids living at what was essentially a paramilitary base in the woods. The apocalypse did weird things to people. 

They know their kids will be safer here than in town , Joyce had said, her eyes glassy as she watched Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair arrive for their weekly check-up and dispensing of supplies to Lucas and Erica. Away from the rifts, it’s less likely that they’ll get taken.

Before March, the woods had been dark and mysterious, hiding all sorts of potential threats from the Upside-Down. Now, the Upside-Down had ripped through downtown, and the forest was one of the only places that still felt safe — a feeling that was significantly helped by all the traps they’d set around it.

Steve kept his car parked next to the camper he and Robin had ‘borrowed’ in an insane series of events Dustin loved to tell, and now Will and his friends ran towards it, shoes crunching against the sticks and leaves of the undergrowth. They piled into the dark BMW, putting their towels over the seats when Steve threatened to throw them into the quarry and squeezing together like sardines. There wasn’t enough room for all of them, but no one cared. El and Erica were squished together in the passenger seat, and Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Will were all in the back, shoulders pressed together like they had when they were kids. Except, now, when Will slid in next to Mike, he nearly had a goddamn heart attack. Their legs were touching, their elbows crammed together as the car door closed, and Will had to control his breathing. God , he was useless , he’d been this close to Mike countless times when they were kids, but now here he was, having fucking heart palpitations. Steve put in his mixtape, much to Dustin’s horror, and they pulled out onto the road, El squealing with delight as Whitney Houston began to blast from the car’s speakers. 

“Come on, man!” Dustin yelled over the music, waving his arms. Lucas ducked to avoid getting hit, but he was grinning. “Your music taste is crap, let Will have it!”

“Nope!” Steve held up a finger as the woods whizzed by. “Driver picks the music, everyone else shuts their cakeholes.”

“What if Vecna attacks, huh?” Mike protested, and Will couldn’t pull his eyes away from the other boy’s face. His features were screwed up in disgust, his cheeks flushed, and they were so close, Will could hardly breathe. “How are we supposed to survive if we have this shit to rely on?”

Steve’s eyes flashed in the rearview mirror. “Diss Whitney Houston one more time, Wheeler, and you’re walking.”

Mike scoffed, looking hilariously indignant, and Will couldn’t help snorting with laughter. Their bare knees knocked together as the car bumped over the old road, and Will stole a glance at Mike.

Mike was looking back at him. 

Immediately, Will drilled his eyes into the back of the driver’s seat. His heart was pounding again, sending way more blood to his face than was necessary, and he moved his gaze to the window.

As they drove further away from the center of town, and deeper into the woods, the sun seemed to shine brighter. The prickling on the back of Will’s neck, the lingering anxiety that had hovered in the background of the last few weeks, faded slightly. He drew in a breath, and found it surprisingly easy. 

When the car pulled up next to the quarry, Will and his friends didn’t wait for the wheels to stop turning. The lake shone a deep, welcoming blue, warmed by the sun and overhung with lush trees, dramatically beautiful from the cliffs towering above, enticing them with the kind of escape they hadn’t had in months, and the six of them chased the call. They tumbled out of the car, laughing just like they had when they were kids, racing each other to the shore. Steve yelled after them, but he didn’t sound mad, and Will’s elbow bumped against Mike’s as he passed. 

“Hey!” Mike yelled, laughing as he reached out. Will ducked away from his grasp, sticking his tongue out as he got closer to the small ledge they liked to jump off of. He might’ve been the smallest out of all of them, but he’d always been the fastest. He stopped at the edge, panting as he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt, unable to stop smiling. Eleven had been right — it was warmer here. It actually felt like a proper early Indiana summer, with sunlight streaming through the trees and warming him to the bone. Will looked up, opening his mouth to say something, but then Mike cannoned into him. 

“ Mike!” he squealed, instinctively wrapping his arms around the other boy as they tumbled off the edge. Will had about half a second to register the fact that Mike’s shirt was off again, and they were touching skin-to-skin, before water enveloped them both. They plunged in together, wrapped in each other’s arms, surrounded by cool, sun-warmed water. All the air left Will’s lungs, and for a moment, they just clung to each other. 

Then, Will remembered where he was, who he was, and who exactly he was holding onto. 

He pushed off of Mike and resurfaced, gasping. Mike reappeared out of the water next to him, his dark hair plastered to his face, grinning diabolically and way too attractively for Will to handle. Freckles sprayed faintly across Mike’s shoulders, just like he remembered.

“You asshole!” Will laughed, splashing water in his direction. Mike, the fucking fish that he was, just laughed and swerved out of the way, smiling in a way Will hadn’t seen in months. He rose up a few inches, raising his arms as he slipped a hair tie off his wrist to tie up his hair. Will’s eyes dropped to Mike’s collarbones, and Mike definitely would’ve seen him staring if Dustin hadn’t cannonballed between them at that exact moment. El and Lucas soon followed, and it quickly turned into a free-for-all as the five of them roughoused and splashed water over each other. Mike grabbed El’s ankle, to which she screamed and blasted him back about ten feet with her mind, sending him cannoning into Lucas. The two of them went under and popped back up almost immediately, Lucas spluttering as Dustin cackled at Mike’s bewildered face. Mike quickly sought revenge, chasing after a yelping Dustin with a clump of algae.

“Don’t drown! ” Steve yelled from the ledge. He sat down on a beach towel, cracking open a beer and flicking through a magazine. He grumbled something else, but Will knew from the way he raised the magazine that he was hiding a smile. Erica sat next to him, dry in her pink bathing suit, watching the five of them with a mixture of horror and disgust. 

“Erica!” Lucas called, spitting water out of his mouth with a mischievous grin. “Aren’t you going to join us?”

“ Hell no!” she snapped, pointing to her hair. “It took Will and El five hours to do these braids, and I’m not risking them for whatever barbaric bullshit you’re doing!”

“Coward!” Dustin yelled, then quickly submerged as Erica’s glare turned on him. The rest of them burst out laughing.

It was in moments like these, soaked in lakewater and smiling, that Will could forget what waited for them.

Eventually, Erica ran out of patience, secured a scarf around her head, and jumped in to deal with Lucas and Dustin herself. Once she entered the fray, it turned competitive, and soon Will was escaping to a shallower alcove, panting as he laughed and clutched his side. Here, his feet touched the floor, and the bank was just a few feet away under the shade of the trees. Steve had dumped their backpacks at the edge, yelling at them for being irresponsible and then ducking when Dustin tried to splash him. 

“Oh my God!” Mike wheezed, clawing through the water as he followed Will to the safe haven. His face was flushed from the exercise, and also probably from getting his shit rocked by a seventh-grader. 

Will couldn’t help but grin. “So soon?”

“ Dude!” Mike panted, coming to stop next to him, bobbing in the water. His hair tie had slipped, and Will suppressed the urge to fix it. Mike gasped for breath, half-laughing. “I didn’t know Erica was that fucking vicious!”

“You didn’t?” Will snorted, staring at him. While Erica hadn’t been allowed to accompany them on patrols or trap-setting(something she’d loudly argued with, and only backed down after her mother had gotten involved), she still participated in weapons training, and could be absolutely brutal in pointing out their mistakes. “I’m sorry, have you been around for the past few months?”

“I mean — okay, with words, yeah, but —” Mike glanced over his shoulder at the chaos further out in the lake and shuddered. “I’m never gonna let her spar with me.”

He smirked at the thought of Erica with a sword. “Yeah, she’d kick your ass. Again.”

“Ugh, oh, God.” Mike dragged his hands down his face. “And Hopper would probably like her better, too —”

Will laughed, the kind that curved his shoulders and felt like warmth curling in his chest. Out of all the things he’d missed about life in Hawkins, this — small moments like these, ones he’d taken for granted before — this, he’d missed the most. 

“ So .” Mike said, giving Will a look that begged him to change the subject. His lips curved in a lopsided grin as he brushed strands of soaked hair out of his face. “This ain’t shit compared to California swimming, right?”

Will snorted and looked out at the blue-green water of the lake. It was much cooler here than it had been in California, even in the spring, but there hadn’t been a place like this in Lenora. Will leaned into the water, allowing it to buoy him up. 

“I mean —” He looked up at the sky, patches of blue peeking through swathes of dirty gray clouds. The sun peeked in and out, a flickering reminder that yes, it was still there. “There wasn’t really anywhere like this. Like, there was the beach, but it was two hours away. And when we finally got there, it was hella crowded. Y’know, you get the idea to go swimming, but so has everyone else. Here, it’s quiet.” He snorted, righting himself in the water at the sound of Dustin’s screams. Erica had now teamed up with El. “Well, usually. But, either way, the company’s better.”

Something flickered in Mike’s eyes, and Will remembered that conversation they’d had, before his house had gotten shot up by the military. I didn’t say it. You didn’t have to. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Will’s breath caught, and he nodded. “I — I missed this. A lot.”

For a moment, he felt stupid for saying that out loud, but then a strange look came over Mike’s face. The other boy rose out of the water, and the sun hit his pale skin as he eased himself onto the bank. 

God fucking dammit. Warmth flooded Will’s cheeks, and he tried desperately to maintain eye contact as a thousand tiny little Wills ran around screaming in his brain. Shoulders. Arms. Abs. Oh my God. Oh my God, I’m so screwed . By some stupid fucking luck, Mike seemed to remain oblivious to Will’s internal panic as he settled on the bank, his legs trailing in the water. A slight flush crept over the other boy’s cheeks, and for some reason, he looked almost nervous. “Um — Will?”

Will bobbed up and down as he tried to remain steady, his heart practically beating out of his ribcage. Don’t look at his chest. Don’t look at his abs. Don’t think about what his skin would feel like, or how lithe he’s gotten, or how he still has that birthmark — “Y-yeah?”

“There’s, um.” Mike rubbed his wiry arms, looking everywhere but at Will. “There’s something —”

The back of Will’s neck prickled, and he went rigid.

Mike faltered, and it only took a look between them to communicate what was going on. He went still, and Will tore his eyes away from Mike, scanning the treeline. He thought he’d heard —

There.

“Mike,” he said, his voice as low as he could manage. “Don’t move.”

Mike’s shoulders squared, and even when there was a fucking threat just a few feet away, Will still had to mentally kick himself to keep his gaze from lingering. “What is it?”

Slowly, Will reached out for one of the backpacks Steve had left on the bank. His fingers brushed against the revolver poking out from underneath the largest flap. He kept his eyes on the undergrowth. “Get back in the water, and go get El.”

“Hell no, I’m not leaving you,” Mike breathed. “Where is it? What can I do?”

“You can go get El —”

A low gurgling sound rose from the underbrush. They’d been spotted. Will slowly lifted the revolver, cocking it with his thumb. 

“Mike,” he repeated, trying to ignore the other boy’s wide-eyed gaze, and the pounding of his own heart. “If we yell, we’ll startle it into attacking. You need to get back in the water, grab El, and she’ll back me up while I shoot this thing.”

“ No, ” Mike said again, and his voice shook with something Will couldn’t place. Mike was tense, his angular features set, fiercely holding Will’s gaze as he sat rigid. Slowly, his fingers closed around a nearby branch. “I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

Not again.

Will’s breath caught in his throat.

The quarry — this very spot — 

This had been where the police had discovered the fake body, hadn’t it? Was that why Mike looked so —?

The gurgle rose to a growl. The muscles in Mike’s neck tensed, and then he swung the branch, clocking the mass of gray flesh right in its unfurled mouth as it lunged for him. Fear made Will’s hands go clammy as he gripped the gun. What if I hit Mike? What if I hit Mike? What if —?

The demodog choked on the branch, stumbling away from Mike, and Will fired. One shot caught it in the side, causing it to spit out the pulped wood and turn on him. The second shot went straight through its gullet, cutting off its screech, and the third brought the monster down.

It fell back into the undergrowth, twitching and wheezing. 

“Holy shit! ” Steve’s voice yelled. Similar shouts from their friends echoed across the water, along with the loud splashes of their rapid approach. 

Will was up on the bank within seconds, his gun still trained on the monster, but his attention fully on Mike as he grabbed his friend’s arm and blurted, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Mike breathed, nodding and brushing his fingers across Will’s wrist. They were both still wet, but even so, Mike’s touch still felt warm. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Steve bolted into view, and Will quickly let go of Mike’s arm. Steve glanced at them, his bat out as he approached the dying dog. “You two okay?”

“We’re fine,” Will answered, feeling like he was trying to swallow a rock. The sensation of Mike’s fingers still hovered on his skin, like a warm ghost. 

“Oh my God!” Dustin was next, hoisting himself up onto the bank, and then El, Lucas, and Erica. 

El shouldered her way forward, her eyes narrowed at the monster. Her hair was plastered to her head, and droplets trickled down her face and arms as she approached it. Her bare feet crunched in the dirt and leaves. 

“Fuck,” Dustin dug his fingers into his wet hair, all the carefree happiness gone from his face and replaced by shocked dread. “Fuck, there’s gonna be more —”

“Yep!” Steve jerked back, waving his free hand in the direction of the car. He’d put on a stoic face, but Will could see it in him, too. “Grab your bags, let’s go!”

Dismay echoed through the six of them, tinged with anger, but not at Steve. Everyone else jumped into action, shoulders tense and taking steady breaths, while Will’s stomach curdled. He stormed ahead barefoot, past El, past the body, gun in hand as he forged a few feet into the forest, already knowing what he would find in the underbrush.

The grass was gray and dying, just like everywhere else in Hawkins. 

Will bit back a wave of frustrated tears. God . They couldn’t have anything, could they?

Chapter Text

There was a certain kind of serenity that came with knowing you were about to die.

Will rummaged through the drawers of his desk, not really caring about leaving a mess behind. Usually, he had to keep everything in its place — he’d lost several good drawing pens to the monster of a mess his workspace could become — but now, finding things again didn’t matter, because this was the last time he’d be here. His mind was clear as he sat down, everything pulled out into crystal-clear perspective, and when he put pen to paper, he didn’t stop. He wrote the letters, and even though he stood up shaking, fighting back tears, he folded them shut. He crept around the cabin, carefully tucking them in peoples’ sleeping bags, where he knew they wouldn’t be discovered until the night was over. 

No going back now.

There was a rolling pit of emotions in Will’s gut, but over them all, he felt strangely calm. He didn’t want to die, but at the same time . . . he’d spent his teenage years haunted by Vecna. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d flinched at shadows, woken up in a cold sweat, ran from actual monsters, or watched his friends and family throw themselves into danger. 

Now, he knew: it would all end today. 

Outside, Nancy, Mike, and Hopper were preparing to go out, stocking guns, lighters, face masks, anything they might need. Will had felt a wave of guilty relief upon learning that Mike would be coming. Steve and Robin had left earlier to take Dustin, Lucas and El to visit Max — a trip Will and Mike were supposed to have gone on — and saying goodbye to them had been hard enough. How the hell was he supposed to respond to a cheered, see you later! from an open window of Steve’s car? How could he face Lucas and Dustin, both still wrecked with grief from March, and keep his own anguish from bursting forth? El had given him a strange look as he’d said goodbye, her eyebrows furrowing slightly in a way that had made his gut twist. If she noticed anything, she didn’t say it, and Will thanked God for that — because if she had, he would’ve broken down and spilled everything. 

This is the last time I’ll see them, he’d thought, the words ringing in his head like ricocheting bullets as they’d piled into Steve’s BMW. His chest had tightened, parting words pent up and fighting to get out, but he hadn’t been able to say any of them. It would’ve raised suspicion, and then the whole plan would’ve fallen apart.

So, he’d called, bye! as they shut the doors, then added, be safe!

It hadn’t been enough, not nearly, and so once the BMW was out of sight, he’d fled to his desk and wrote down everything he couldn’t say to them. He'd gotten the idea from Max — the letter she’d written him was still unopened, as was everyone else’s. Even now, as Will prepared himself to die, he couldn't bring himself to break the seal. Max would wake up. She would. But, Will wouldn't, and so he tried to consolidate the panic, grief, and love into a few pages of scribbled words.

It still wasn’t enough. 

How — how the hell was he supposed to say goodbye to everyone? What words were there to tie a bow on relationships he carried in him like torches? He’d tried his best, hoping it would at least give them some comfort when he was gone, but it still felt inadequate. Max was braver than him, stronger, sharper and more sure with her words. More than once, Will had to stop himself from giving up and opening her letter, if just to have some way to talk to her again. The two of them had never been close in the way she was with El, but the sharpness in her eyes always seemed to abate whenever she looked at Will, like she recognized something in him. For some reason, whenever she and Lucas had fought, she’d always come to Will to gripe about it. She’d show up at his house unannounced, let out a dramatic groan, and collapse on the couch while Will got his sketchbook and a few sodas. She’d complain about whatever stupid thing Lucas had done, her feet in Will’s lap, waving her hands and glaring viciously at the ceiling while he drew, offering occasional bits of perspective or advice. Sometimes, though, the only thing he could do was drop his sketchbook and gape at her, to which she’d exclaim, ‘I know, right?’, both of them trying in vain to comprehend just how stupid boys could be. Every once in a while, Will even complained along with her, about Mike. She never batted an eye. He’d never said anything about being gay, or having a horrible crush on his best friend, and Max never asked him to specify. The closest they’d ever gotten to that had been at a sleepover in Mike’s basement, a few weeks before Will and El moved to California. Everyone else had long since fallen asleep, but Will and Max were still up, gossipping in hushed tones as Will painted her nails sky blue, and he’d told her about that fight he’d had with Mike.

It’s not my fault you don’t like girls.

Max’s jaw had actually dropped, murder briefly flashing in her eyes. “He said what?”

Will had nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on her nails as he carefully applied a second coat by the dim light of a lamp. He hadn’t said anything, but he hadn’t needed to.

“No way,” Max had hissed. “God, that is so fucking insensitive. I can’t believe him sometimes. Jesus!”

That had been it. She hadn’t asked him if it was true, or if there were any girls he did like, just what had happened next. Will had met her gaze again, and felt a thousand pounds of weight slide off his shoulders.

Whenever the two of them hung out, Will felt like he could voice all the annoyance and hurt he usually kept pent up inside. Max never judged him for it — in fact, she did quite the opposite. 

That had all stopped after Will had moved to California, and he’d found himself missing it even more than he thought he would. On that first day of spring break, he’d made it through the fiasco of the roller rink by promising himself he’d get Max’s new phone number from El. It wouldn’t have been as good as talking to her face-to-face, but he’d known that she’d murder him if he didn’t tell her about all of Mike’s bullshit, on Will’s birthday, no less. 

Even though that had bothered him, he’d tried not to make a big deal out of it. They’d celebrated in the morning, and Mike showing up had been a present enough, at least until the whole afternoon rapidly went to shit. Mike had stammered something about a birthday present that hadn’t been ready in time, saying that he’d send it in the mail later, but even after they’d gotten back to Hawkins, Will hadn’t seen hair nor hide of anything like a birthday present. He supposed the apocalypse was one hell of a distraction, but still. It bothered him, and he knew it would bother Max, too. Will could almost see the shocked, indignant look on her face, the one that always made him wonder, Maybe I’m not being unreasonable.

She’d always been unapologetic, in every move she made. Will had used to wish that someday, he’d have a fraction of that bravery, but now . . . .

Now, he guessed it would never happen.

Will couldn’t be unapologetic, but he could at least try to be a little bit as brave. Writing the letters was terrifying but necessary, and as Will finished the last one with tears spilling down his cheeks, he was at least glad he’d tried. There were so many people to say goodbye to, so many things he’d have to explain, and yet so many lies to tell in the upcoming hour or so. He hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to Jonathan — he’d gone off to the military base with Murray early that morning, something about negotiations and supplies. It felt like a blessing and a curse. Will didn’t want to look his brother in the eye and lie, but at the same time, he needed his brother’s quiet strength right now.

Because as he tried to sneak out of the cabin, a floorboard creaked, and caught their mother’s attention. 

Joyce had been at the kitchen counter, poring over a map of Hawkins with drawn-in borders of the rifts and the encroaching effects of the Upside-Down, when she heard the noise. Immediately, she looked up, and the lines on her face deepened as she read Will like a book.

“Sweetheart?” Joyce’s brow creased with worry, and she dropped what she was doing to move around the counter to him. “Will, what is it?”

He struggled to keep his voice even. “N-nothing, Mom, I —”

“You don’t have to go,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder. The lines on her forehead deepend, etched by years of hard work and worrying about him, and Will knew exactly what she was thinking about. In the past few months, he’d been through the Upside-Down with other members of the Party, fought off demodogs as they tried to creep out of the rifts, taken potshots at bats, and helped set up land mines made out of fireworks, but this was the first time he’d done anything close to what Hopper and Joyce had done for him.  “Just tell us exactly where you saw Holly, and we’ll find her. No one will judge you —”

“Mom.” 

Joyce flinched slightly at his tone, and Will felt a stab of guilt. He tried to soften his voice, but it was hard when he knew that he had to leave now, before his resolve crumbled. Fear was creeping up his gut and strangling his airways, a slow, steady disease, but he beat it back just as fiercely. He had to do this.

“Mom,” Will said again, trying to hold her gaze. “I — I have to get Holly. I —” His throat tightened, and he said as much of the truth as he could. “I can’t let her go through what I did.” Joyce’s eyes glimmered, and Will felt a sob swell in his throat. People had told him what his mother had been like after he’d disappeared, and he didn’t want to think about what she’d be like after — after today. “I love you, Mom,” he choked out, trying his best not to make it sound like a goodbye. “Okay?”

“I love you too, sweetie.” Joyce leaned in and kissed his forehead, something she’d done when he was little, and he could hardly find it in himself to feel embarrassed now. She smiled at him, a fair bit worried, but also a little proud, and Will’s knees almost buckled with the weight of the guilt that crashed over him. 

He was about to ruin her life, all over again.

His mother must’ve seen something in his face, because before Will knew it, she’d pulled him into a hug.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she whispered, holding him tight, and he couldn’t help but suspect that she was trying to convince herself as well as him. “You’ll be with Nancy and Hopper. There’s no one better. And if anything goes wrong, anything at all, you radio us, and we’ll jump in, okay?”

Will almost collapsed, right then and there. He was terrified, sick at even the idea of walking back into that place, and goddammit, he didn’t want to die , he didn’t want to leave his mom and Jonathan again, but even more so, he wanted all of this to be over. 

And if this was the only way he could do that, then so be it. 

At least he wouldn’t be leaving her alone.

Will buried his face in his mom’s shoulder and hugged her back, wishing he could be as strong as her. 

The rifts couldn’t be traveled through in the same way gates could — at least, not safely. If a gate was like walking through a door, then a rift was like falling off a cliff: you’d reach the ground, but you might very well die trying.

However, in the center of town, at the point where the four rifts came together, they formed a rip strong enough to constitute a small gate — and it was through that gate that they decided to make their entrance.

“Alright, everyone ready?” Nancy called, shouldering her shotgun. Her piercing eyes passed over the group, scanning each of them. Nancy was terrifying on a good day, but now her worry about Holly had sharpened her into a bright-eyed, fiercely determined weapon. 

They all nodded — Will, Mike, and Hopper. No one dared to dispute her. Will stole a glance at Mike, and saw the way his friend’s jaw trembled.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered, brushing a finger against Mike’s wrist. “We’re gonna get her back.”

Mike stiffened at his touch, and for a moment, Will’s heart plummeted, but then Mike twisted to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were bright, alert, and faintly panicked as he drank in the sight of Will next to him. His throat bobbed. “Promise me you won’t go far.”

Will’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I —” Mike shook his head, exhaling. “Sorry. I know you hate it when we get all weird about — y’know, but I — I dunno.” He laughed nervously, eyeing the gate ahead as Nancy dropped into it. She’d been in and out of the Upside-Down through these ‘floor gates’ so many times in the past few months, she’d mastered a way of jumping in and righting herself as gravity adjusted, so that her feet hit the ground on the other side. “I’m just freaked out, I guess.” 

“Uh —” Will struggled for breath, trying to play it cool with a smile that turned out way more awkward than intended. “I — I mean —”

Mike shifted, and then he gave Will that look — the shining-eyed look he hadn’t been able to ignore, not for his entire life, and especially not after El had dumped Mike when they’d gotten back to Hawkins. The potency of it now almost knocked Will over. Mike’s voice was barely a whisper as he said, “I can’t lose anyone else.”

Invisible hands crushed Will’s throat.

Lying to his mom had been hard enough. She’d been calm, composed, worried but still trusting him. This — this was fucking torture. 

“Sorry,” Mike blurted. He let out a shaky exhale, almost a nervous laugh, and glanced away. He stared at the gate, but his eyes were unfocused. His knuckles were white on the straps of his backpack. “Sorry, I just —”

“Mike,” Will said, and just like that, Mike was looking back at him. Those dark eyes caught Will like a sob, and a sudden, desperate panic bolted up through him. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to leave like this. He didn’t want to go, not without —

No. Holly. I have to rescue Holly. Will’s throat tightened as he thought about what little he remembered from his own kidnapping: the darkness, the cold, the fear, the quiet sobs and choked-back screams. Resolve seeped back into him, steadying his foundations, giving him the strength to look Mike in the eye and not lie, but tell as much of the truth as he could.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promised, holding the other boy’s gaze. His heart pounded with unspoken words: you’ll be okay. I’ll be gone, but you’ll be okay. I’ll step in front of the sword any day, because if anything happened to you, it would kill me. I know it’s not the same for you, and that’s why — that’s why you have to let me do this. I wouldn’t be able to survive it, but you can. You will, and so will Holly. So will my mom, Hopper, Jonathan, El, Lucas, Dustin, and Max. That’s why. That’s why it’s going to be okay. Because no matter what happens next, I might be gone, but you’ll still be here.

It seemed to work, if only a little bit. Some of Mike’s tension eased, and his lips parted, curving as he let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

Will tried to smile back, but felt his eyes sting. He quickly looked away. The clouds were shifting overhead, and while they usually hung over Hawkins in a suffocating blanket, he thought he could see . . . .

A patch of blue. It was small, just a sliver between two cloud banks, but unmistakable as the darkness around it grew brighter and brighter and —

For a moment, the sun appeared, and the whole world was bathed in golden light. 

Will’s breath caught as the sun’s rays warmed his skin. He remembered California, the dry earth and achingly blue sky, the way the clouds turned pink in the morning and the warm wind that promised safety. He remembered the quarry two weeks ago, how the water had shone green-blue and birds had sung in the trees, the dappled green-gold shadows of the sun filtering through the leaves and the laughter of his friends, that brief, stolen moment of joy.

Then, the clouds shifted, and the sun faded again.

“Hey, time to go!” Hopper barked, looking up at them from the rift. His bushy eyebrows slanted at Mike, but Mike was still looking at Will. His dark hair swept over his eyes, messy and sticking up in all directions, as familiar as Will’s own heartbeat. 

“Uh — right.” Their eyes met, and Mike quickly looked away. He pulled the scarf at his neck up over his nose and mouth and walked briskly towards the gate, his hair swaying in the faint wind. 

Will stood in the cold, shadowed street, gazing up at the dirty gray sky. It didn’t offer him anything more.

Dustin had said Eddie used to call the Upside-Down ‘Mordor’.  

Will’s gaze dropped down to the pulsing gate, the vines clawing at the pavement like they longed to continue ripping through the fabric of their world, and remembered an argument Dustin and Mike had gotten into a few years ago. They’d just finished rereading Return of the King as a group, and Dustin had made the offhand comment that Frodo doesn’t really do anything, he just whines and mopes while Sam does all the work. I mean, Sam literally carries him at one point. Will had expected Mike to agree, and for the two of them to geek out about how Sam had carried Frodo up to Mt. Doom, or slayed Shelob, or charged Cirith Ungol. He’d been dead wrong. Mike had practically ripped through the pages of his copy as he insisted, almost yelling, that Frodo deserved every bit of praise he got. 

“He carried the Ring, Dustin, the fucking One Ring! Not even Gandalf would touch it, and you saw how it affected Galadriel! Frodo marched that shit for three fucking months with Sauron whispering in his ear the whole time, trying to corrupt him, and he STUCK IT OUT! I mean, look at what Frodo survived! He got stabbed by a Nazgul, almost turned into a wraith, and then Shelob got him in the same goddamn spot! Gandalf was like family to him, and he watched him DIE! Frodo carried all that pain with him, and even after he thought the quest would kill him, he KEPT GOING. He — like, do you even understand?” Mike had paced the room, his hands shaking. “Frodo knew destroying that ring would cost him his life. He’d completely lost hope, but he kept going anyway — not for himself, but for everyone else. For everyone he knew, and didn’t know. For people on both sides. For the world. For Sam. He fought for a future he never thought he’d get to see. That’s what makes him the hero.”

After that last word, Mike had fallen silent, his chest heaving. And then, almost as if by accident, he’d made eye contact with Will.

Will had been silent throughout the whole debate, for two very simple reasons: Frodo was one of his favorite characters, and he didn’t want to be asked why. He hadn’t even known why, not for sure, at least, until Mike had been the one brave enough to say it all out loud.

Me, Will had thought, his heart surging with momentary, starry-eyed delusion. He’s talking about me.

Even when Mike had quickly looked away, thirteen-year-old Will, fresh off of a possession, had hung onto that thought like a lifeline.

Now, he summoned it again and stumbled forward. Will pulled his scarf up over his nose and mouth, even though he’d never really had a problem breathing in the Upside-Down. He needed something to hide his face, especially as Mike dropped through the rift, and his own turn came. Will knelt at the edge of the gate, his heart in his throat. Nancy was on the other side, looking up (or down?) at him, her hand outstretched to pull him through.

“It’s okay, Will,” she said, her voice softening briefly. “The coast’s clear.”

Will’s throat tightened. Ever since he’d gotten back from the Upside-Down, people had treated him like this — like he was fragile. He knew Nancy was just trying to help, that she understood what he was going through to some extent, but it still hurt. Even though he needed that comfort right now, it still hurt.

That’s what makes him the hero.

Ahead of him, the vines pulsed, the clouds flickered with red lightning, and Hell promised to swallow him whole. Every inch of Will’s body screamed at him to run, but then abated, at a somewhat delirious surge of spite-driven determination.

Fuck that, he thought. Fuck you, vines. I’m gonna carry myself to Mordor, and do what needs to be done.

He grabbed Nancy’s hand, and she pulled him through. Gravity shifted around him as he passed from one world to the next, and before he knew it, he was on his knees in the Upside-Down.

The first thing that always hit him was the cold. 

Will sucked in a breath and staggered to his feet, shaking his head as Nancy offered him a hand up. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

She helped Hopper through next. Will pulled his rifle off his back and primed it, glancing around the murky gray landscape. Nothing yet.

“God, I fucking hate this place,” Mike muttered, gripping the hilt of his sword. Anxiety still tightened the corners of his eyes, but now that they were here, in motion, that energy was going somewhere. Inaction made him restless. Now, they were anything but.

Will leaned closer to him, trying to sound light-hearted. “We won’t be here for long.”

Mike’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and then he let out a soft laugh. He glanced sideways at Will, a soft, bewildered, slightly embarrassed smirk on his face. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one comforting you right now?”

Will raised an eyebrow, feeling soft affection well up in him for this boy. Of course Mike would consider that. He couldn’t help but give the other boy a slight smirk back. “I mean, I’m not the one whose sister is missing —”

 Mike huffed, the way he always did whenever Will made a good point. He opened his mouth, probably to point out that they were essentially running Part Two of the most traumatic event of Will’s life, but Hopper cut him off with a sharp gesture to start moving. 

Will led them up Cherry Lane, towards the Wheeler house. His heart pounded a little faster with each step he took, but when he glanced up, Mike was at his side, sword drawn. He didn’t look like the traditional image of a paladin, not with his coat and scarf instead of armor, but the look in his eyes more than made up for it. 

Will’s heart swelled, and for a moment, he was glad that no matter where he ended up, at least he could take the memory of this with him.

The Wheeler house looked gray in the darkness of the Upside-Down, as if the vines snaking across it had leached all its color away. The second it came into view, Mike broke into a run. Will immediately followed, Nancy close behind, and Hopper grunted with only half-hearted exasperation before chasing after them. They’d already established how this would go: Nancy, Will, and Mike would go into the house to look for Holly, and Hopper would keep watch outside. Usually, they used the buddy system when it came to people keeping watch, but Hopper had insisted that all three of them go inside to find Holly as quickly as possible. None of them had argued, and they fell into that rhythm the moment Mike wrenched open the front door.

“Holly?” Mike yelled. His sword was out as he forged into the gray, vine-covered mockery of his house, and his knuckles were white on the hilt. 

“This way,” Will breathed, taking a hand off his rifle to tug Mike’s sleeve. Mike reacted immediately, and the two of them bolted up the stairs two at a time. They hit the landing, Nancy at their heels, and the dark hallway whizzed past as they ran for the door at the end. 

It was nothing like her bedroom in their world. The bright colors had faded into shades of gray, the stuffed animals gone soggy with mildew, the wallpaper damp and corroded with slime; but there was only one difference between here and there that really mattered. 

“Holly!” Mike bolted forward, collapsing next to the pale little girl shivering on the floor, and when she saw him, she began to cry. He wrapped his arms around her, almost sobbing with relief and gasping, “Oh my God, oh my God, you’re okay, you’re okay —”

Holly’s pajamas had been streaked with slime, her blonde hair a loose mess, and her lips blue from the chill, but she was alive. Nancy knelt down next to them, cupping Holly’s face in her hands and letting out a long, shaking breath before pulling both of her siblings into a hug, smiling as tears ran down her cheeks.

Will hung back, relief blossoming in his chest and making his eyes sting, but at the same time, his heart was about to crack open.

Any minute now.

Holly peeked through her siblings’s arms, and when she saw Will, her tear-streaked face brightened a little. Her hand traveled up to the figurine at her neck, the one Will had painted for her.

“You c-came,” she said, her eyes welling with tears as she smiled, and Will remembered what he’d told her, when she’d said she wanted her character to be a cleric.

Mine’s a cleric, too, he’d said quietly, and her eyes had lit up in the rare sunlight streaming through the kitchen window of the Wheeler house. You know what that means?

She’d looked up at him, eager with a pencil positioned over her makeshift character sheet. What?

It means we’re battle buddies, he’d replied, leaning forward to whisper. Sworn to protect our friends, in the name of the light. It means when stuff gets bad, we have each other’s backs, and we never leave anyone behind. He’d reached out a hand, and dipped his voice into the kind he used only in campaigns. Are you ready to take up that mantle, Holly Wheeler?

Her eyes had sparkled with awe, and in her, Will saw the same wonder and enthusiasm he’d felt at that age. She’d taken his hand and shaken it, whispering, Yeah.

Now Will’s heart nearly wrenched out of his chest, and before he knew it, he was kneeling down next to the knot of Wheelers, fighting back tears of his own. 

“Yeah,” he choked out, sharing Holly’s smile. “I told you. We don’t leave anyone behind.”

“That’s right,” Nancy sniffled, smiling as she wiped her little sister’s tears. “Now, let’s get out of here.”

Nancy wrapped her scarf around Holly’s nose and mouth, and Holly didn’t let go of her hand for a moment as Mike led them down the hall, sword drawn as he scoped the house for any unseen threats. Will brought up the end with his shotgun drawn, guarding their backs even as dread gripped him.

When will it happen? he thought, his heart pounding as they shuffled down the stairs. He was nauseous from the roiling nerves in his gut, gripping his gun as his palms began to sweat. Would Vecna just snatch him without warning? Would he let the others go? Would Will be tackled and chewed up by a demogorgon, or would Vecna come and do the job himself?

Would it hurt?

Will’s eyes burned, but he kept sweeping their surroundings as they made their way out the front door of the Wheeler house. Hopper let out a long breath of relief when he saw them, bending down to ask Holly if she was okay in a voice that ached with buried pain. Will couldn’t look. He couldn’t look at Hopper, the man who’d saved his life, who’d stepped into the role of a father, who took care of Will’s family with a heart bigger than the distance he’d crossed to get back to them. He couldn’t look at Holly, that tear-streaked face now light with hope, without being overcome by crushing guilt for the pain he was about to inflict on her. He couldn’t even look at Nancy, much less Mike, and so he looked out at the gray, shadowy road instead. 

Nothing — at least, not yet. 

They made their way downtown, Hopper in front, Nancy behind him holding Holly’s hand, Will and Mike bringing up the rear. The two of them fell into step next to each other, as natural as anything, and it strangled Will to think about. How many times had they walked down this street together, back in their own world? He couldn’t count. He felt like maybe if he blinked, or glanced to the side, the light would change, and he’d see a twelve or thirteen-year-old Mike Wheeler walking next to him. 

Will focused on the cracked pavement as it passed under his feet, gripping his rifle as his eyes stung. Next to him, Mike strode with a confidence Will knew was hard-won, his hair brushed back, dark eyes sharp as ever, one hand curled around the hilt of his sword. In their world, Mike would be talking, rambling off about a book he was reading, or their latest campaign, or Star Wars, or one of a thousand other things; and Will would take the opportunity to look at him for as long as he wanted. Now, Mike was silent, and Will kept his eyes glued to the ground.

With every second that passed, his heart beat faster. He could hear it in his ears, a quick ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum that promised to go quiet soon. He wondered if it would hurt. He wondered if the others would get away in time. He wondered where it would happen, if Vecna would wait for him to get close to the gate, or just —

“Hey.”

Will stiffened, jerkily glancing up. Mike’s voice had dropped to an achingly soft cadence, and now he was gazing at Will with a furrowed brow and unmistakable worry; just like he had in a dark movie theater almost a year ago. The scarf around the lower half of Mike’s face had slipped, revealing the way his mouth dipped with worry.

“You okay?”

Will felt like he’d been punched in the throat.

“I, uh —” He tried to force a smile, but his heart was pounding faster now, stupid tears burning his eyes. Of course Mike would notice something was off. He always did. The night in the movie theater, he’d practically forgotten the film in front of them. Will hadn’t even reacted much to that chilling feeling, but Mike had picked up on it anyway. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, I mean — we got Holly.” Will savored that momentary kernel of happiness, hoping it showed in  his face and voice. He glanced ahead, where Holly was clinging to Nancy’s hand as they passed a dilapidated Melvald’s. She was still shivering, but all things considered, she was doing alright. They were close to the rift-torn library now, within sight of the end.

Will could only hope she wasn’t as attached to him as she seemed. 

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s just — it’s nice, I guess.” A smile tugged at Will’s lips, even as his eyes stung. “To . . . y’know.”

Mike’s eyes glimmered, and he nodded, a hint of a smile curving his lips in return. “Yeah.”

Will felt his heart swell. That was one of the many things he loved about Mike: he knew. He always did.

Then, it all shattered.

Honor it.

Will stumbled. Cold was seeping into his bones like frost, tendrils curling around his heart as Vecna’s voice echoed in his mind.

Our deal.

Mike tilted his head to catch Will’s gaze, those dark eyes bright with concern as that knowing became a curse. Motion flickered in the corner of Will’s vision, and fear grabbed him. They weren’t alone. They’d never been alone. Vecna had been hovering nearby this whole time, watching, waiting, preparing —

In the darkness, beyond the vine-infested shadows of downtown Hawkins, something let out a roar that shook the ground.

Mike tensed, but kept his back to it. He studied Will’s face, his brows creasing in concern, reaching out for him, his lips parting as he asked, urgently, “Will, what is it?”

Honor our deal, or they both die.

“We — we should keep moving.” Will stood, tearing his gaze away, because if he looked at Mike any longer, he’d crumble. If he hadn’t spent the past year practicing how to hide his emotions with careful efficiency, he would’ve already dissolved. His heart pounded in his ears, loud, all of a sudden. Maybe he just hadn’t noticed it before.

Honor our deal, or they both die.

Will didn’t have to wonder who Vecna meant by both. Both Holly and Mike. Both of the people here who he’d throw himself in front of a train to protect. He bit down on his lip, forcing back a sob. He hated this. He hated this, but God only knew what was out there, prowling towards them, and he had to get everyone back through the rift before they ran out of time. It was so close, they were just feet away —

The back of Will’s neck prickled, and a chill seeped into him like dread.

Your time is up, William.

His lungs seized. His rifle fell out of his hands and he stumbled to a halt, his breath shuddering, staring desperately at the rift ahead. Nancy and Holly were close, so close —

The world dilated, and Will froze completely. His limbs were locked in place, feet rooted into the ground, air solidifying around him like ice. A shout built in his throat, a last plea for them to run, but before he could open his mouth, his lips froze as well. Every inch of his body erupted in a fizzing, excruciating bolt of panic, his muscles twitching as he tried to move, his chest shuddering as his lungs attempted to pull in air, and then it all ground to a stop. His mind swam in an ocean of fear, every instinct screaming at him to run, but he couldn’t move a muscle. Spots danced in front of his eyes, but he could still see —

A pale face flashed in his vision, framed by messy dark hair that Will knew was soft to the touch. Those dark eyes were stricken with a deep, fathomless panic that Will had caught a glimpse of yesterday, just a hint, and now he was being hit with the full force.

No, he thought desperately, floundering in the fog of panic and air loss. No. No, Mike, run, please run —

Mike’s lips moved in the shape of Will’s name. When Will didn’t respond, Mike’s face went white and his fingers dug into Will’s shoulders, desperately, as though he could hold him in this world by sheer force of will. 

At least Mike’s the last thing I’ll see , he thought, as his mind drifted towards delirium. It wasn’t such a bad fate. Now, he could finally gaze up at his best friend and count the freckles scattered across his straight nose and curved cheekbones . . . one, two, three . . . five, ten . . . the group of six that made a constellation . . . 

Then, something yanked at Will’s sternum. Energy rushed back into him as the world zoomed away, and he watched, from outside himself, as Mike screamed his name.

Chapter Text

Mike Wheeler was a lot of things, but the biggest one was late. 

He was late for school, late for class, late for Hellfire club, late for sparring with Hopper and Murray, late for picking up his sister in the morning, and most of all, ridiculously fucking late in realizing his feelings for his best friend.

The first time he’d noticed the way his stomach flipped around Will, he’d just thought, huh, that’s weird, and shoved it away. He couldn’t even place when it had first happened. Over the years, it had just grown with him, natural as anything, because — well — it was Will. Mike’s best friend. His partner in everything. The soft wisdom to his brazenness, the cleric to his paladin. He was a better person when he was around Will, because one look from those beautiful hazel eyes was enough to make the tension in him ebb away. He’d barely even noticed it, and he certainly hadn’t realized the depth of it until that day last year, when El had kissed him and Will had moved away.

He'd stood there in that house, his back to the empty closet, Eleven walking out the door, the room cleaned bare of any remnant of Will, and thought, oh. Oh, no.

He hadn't quite known what it meant. He'd shoved it deep down into the depths of his gut, forcing a smile and telling himself that it would fade, it would go away, that everything was fine. He was dating El, after all, so everything was fine. And it was normal to miss his best friend like this. Totally normal. So what if his wastebasket was full of scrapped letters to Will, while writing to El felt infinitely less nerve-wracking? It was fine. Completely fine. They were best friends, they’d known each other since forever, it only made sense that Mike would think about him so much. Several months of not seeing Will had tentatively convinced him: that weird feeling was totally not weird at all. It was normal. Completely normal.

Until he'd seen Will in the airport, taller, broader, his voice an octave deeper, and thought oh, FUCK.

That week, nature of the feeling had rapidly made itself known, tap-dancing with a fucking neon sign in Mike’s brain and refusing to be ignored anymore. He’d still tried, telling himself it was just nerves after not seeing Will for a while, cramming the panic down and pasting on a smile. He'd thought that hanging out with El would solve the problem, but he'd been halfway into an argument with Will before he realized the real reason why he was so irritated: that goddamn feeling just wouldn’t go away.

Mike wasn’t even sure he wanted it to.

He’d felt horribly guilty, and if it hadn’t been for Will at his side, encouraging him with a voice that broke Mike’s heart, he wouldn’t have been able to keep going. He did love El — just, not in the way she wanted him to. She was the coolest person he knew, completely badass and still smiling, brave and tough as nails and everything Mike wished he could be. She scared the crap out of him sometimes, but she also inspired him, and knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. He didn’t want to hurt her, but at the same time, he knew he couldn’t give her what she wanted.

So, he’d been a coward, continuing to paste on a smile and freaking out on the inside until El had looked at him sideways one morning, a knowing eyebrow raised, and said, Bullshit. 

He’d stammered, but she hadn’t let up, and eventually, Mike’s shaky resolve had crumbled. He’d spilled out an abridged version of what was going on in his fucked-up brain — how he cared about her so much, he didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t think he loved her in that way, at least, not anymore — and she’d gone silent for a moment. Mike had wondered offhandedly if she was gearing up to hit him before she’d nodded, and said, I know.

“I — I’m sorry,” he’d blurted, guilt caving his chest in as he watched her features fall. “I’m so sorry, El, I should’ve told you the second I realized, I never wanted to hurt you —”

But, she’d met his eyes, and said, “It is okay.”

He’d stared at her for a moment before blurting, “No, it’s not, I — I led you on, I’m an asshole —”

“Mike.” She’d rolled her eyes, and then he realized — she didn’t look hurt. Sad, definitely, but more so — relieved. 

Like ripping off a band-aid.

“You are not an asshole,” she’d said, then scrunched her nose. “Maybe a little. But, I understand. And I’m glad you told me.”

“Th-thanks,” he’d choked out, and felt horrible. 

El reached out a hand. There was still something sad in her eyes, and Mike felt that gaping hole too, but — for both of them, it was like a weight lifted off their shoulders. 

El’s lips twitched in a smile. “Friends?”

He’d practically gasped in relief, shaking her hand and choking out the answer. “Yeah. Yeah, friends.”

Things were still pretty awkward between them, but the relief it brought both of them was worth it. There was something about that simple honesty between them now, the interaction without the pretense of expectations Mike couldn’t fulfill, that made their interactions easier despite it all. 

It had absolutely baffled their friends.

“I’m just saying, dude,” Dustin had said a few days after, giving him a meaningful look as they cleaned guns on the back porch. Mike had sat through almost a half hour of interrogation at that point, and was inches away from throwing Dustin into the lake. So far, he was only surviving on the knowledge that El was receiving similar skepticism from Nancy and Joyce, and that at least they could complain about it to each other later. “It's okay to feel your feelings, it's healthy. Like, you and El have been a thing for like, forever, so it’s kinda freaking me out that you’re not —”

“Dustin!” Mike had snapped, and then, if only just to shut him up, blurted, “I think I'm gay!”

It worked. Dustin had gone quiet immediately, his eyes wide as coins, his mouth hanging open uselessly.

“Oh,” he’d said at last, then nodded. “Yeah, that would explain a lot.”

Mike, who'd thought he’d been ready for anything, had not been ready for this. “Huh?”

“I said, it explains a lot.” He waved a hand at Mike. “First of all, this whole thing, second, you’ve never really been into girls —”

“I —” Mike gaped at him. “You — it — what?”

“God, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this earlier!” Dustin exclaimed, half-laughing. Then, his brows furrowed, and he turned back to Mike. “But — you did like El.”
“I mean, yeah, like, a crush, but . . . .” Mike swallowed. “I dunno. When I was a kid, I think I liked the idea of her more than anything else.” He bit his lip, glancing at Dustin. “D’you think it’s possible to like both? Boys and girls?”

Dustin shrugged. “Walruses like both.”

Mike snorted, feeling some of the tension in his chest unwind. “Are you seriously comparing me to a walrus?”

“I’m just saying, there’s biological precedent, so it’s entirely possible that —”

“You’re still comparing me to a walrus.”

“Man, shut up,” Dustin groaned, bumping his shoulder against Mike’s. 

They went quiet for a while, leaning against each other, and then Mike whispered, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Dustin nudged his shoulder again, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. “Does this mean you’re gonna tell me who the lucky guy is?”

Mike yelped and covered his face, suppressing a laugh that was half-relieved, half-embarrassed. “Oh my God, shut up!”

“It’s not me, is it? ’Cause I know I’m irresistible, but this is all Suzie’s, baby —”

Mike had shoved him, Dustin had cackled like a goblin, and they’d moved on. Later, Mike had marvelled at how Dustin had accepted it more easily than he had himself. He’d walked off that plane, seen Will, felt his skin buzz and stomach flip over, and immediately been terrified. He’d glanced between Will and El, testing it, and felt a cold wave crash over him as the difference of his feelings had made itself known. Shame-touched fear had started in his gut, growing like a disease. The way his skin buzzed around Will tempted him in the same way the edge of a cliff did: the knowledge that for a moment, he’d fly, even if he eventually hit the ground. Fear was the only thing that held him back, but the more time he spent with Will, the more he wanted to take that leap. 

I don’t care if it’s wrong, he’d thought for a moment, in the back of a pizza van. Will was looking at him like he’d hung the stars, and Mike wanted to do everything he’d ever felt ashamed of. I’ve never felt anything so right in my life. 

But then they'd knelt over the pizza dough freezer as Eleven fought Vecna, watching her struggle to stay alive, and Mike had just started talking, saying anything he thought might keep her going, regardless of whether or not it was true. He’d come out of that with a pit in his gut, one that only bore deeper as both Will and El seemed to avoid him afterwards. The following weeks had been a special brand of torture as Will took every opportunity to put distance between the two of them, something that had dredged up old, horrible visions.

For years, that night at the quarry had haunted Mike’s dreams. He’d woken up in a cold sweat some nights, unable to scrub the image of Will’s pale, lifeless body from his mind, and Will being on the other side of the country had just made it worse. Being in the same place as Will usually made it better again — he hadn’t had a single night terror those few days in California — but in the weeks between returning to Hawkins and breaking up with El, the nightmares had come roaring back. Just a few hours after a patrol where Will had gotten tackled by a demodog, Mike was beset with the most vivid night terror he’d had yet or since. Will had been fine, just a few scratches on his face and hands, but the cold terror that had soaked Mike at that moment followed him for the rest of the day, and into his dreams.

He’d walked through every step of that horrible night: following El with hope fluttering in his chest, only to be crushed when she led them to Will’s house, and furthermore ground into the dirt at the sound of police sirens. He’d felt the gravel under his feet as he’d skidded off his bike at the quarry, the cold air on his face, the way his heart dropped and broke into a million pieces, scattering in the wind of the quarry and landing in the dark water, sinking down to the bottom forever. Mike hadn’t realized he was screaming until he’d lunged forward and seen Lucas — but not from that day in 1983. 

Lucas, older, taller, dressed in a ratty old summer camp t-shirt and sweatpants, was gripping Mike’s shoulders and holding him steady.

“Mike?” Lucas’s eyes were wide in darkness, his face shining in some faint light. “Mike? Mike, can you hear me? What’s wrong?”

“I —” Mike had choked on his own breath, gasping as the image of that pale, limp body lingering in his vision. He’d clung to Lucas’s arms and glanced around — they were on the floor of Hopper’s cabin. Their sleeping bags were laid out between the couch and the television, like they usually were during the night, and Dustin was still rolled up in his just a few feet away. They often got annoyed and complained about having no real space to themselves, nowhere permanent to keep their clothes and equipment, to the point where Hopper and Joyce were now officially thinking about “acquiring” another trailer. Mike had been ecstatic at the idea of a real bed and maybe even a few drawers to keep his shit in, but now as he sat quaking in the twisted mess of his sleeping bag, he’d thanked God that Lucas was within arm’s reach. Plus, if the three of them moved out of the cabin, that would mean being further away from —

Mike had sucked in a wheezing breath as his nightmare rushed back, stammering Will’s name, until he’d met Lucas’s gaze.

The look in his friend’s eyes had been like an echo. 

That was when Lucas had found out, more or less. Neither of them had said anything about it, but now there was a quiet, solemn bond of recognition between them, the kind that only came when two people realized they’d both walked through the same part of Hell. Lucas had given him a wordless hug, Mike had cried into his shoulder, and they’d both managed to fall asleep again after a short while. El had broken up with him the very next day, and Mike had gone to ask Will if he would help him bike Holly to school. 

He’d said yes.

From that point on, the nightmares had begun to abate again. They were always there, lingering in the back of Mike’s mind to some extent, but something about Will’s smile made them go away. It didn’t strike again for weeks, until they went swimming in the quarry, and the nightmare hit Mike in the daytime. He’d glanced over, seen Will floating in the water, and lost the ability to breathe. The flashback had taken over his mind for a moment, turning the world around him dark and cold, and Mike had felt an invisible cord tighten around his chest, until just one look from Will made it loosen. He’d blinked, sucking in air. He’d been twelve years old again for a moment, drowning in pitching fear, but now, seeing Will in the crystal-blue water of the quarry, bright and laughing and alive —

Mike had almost spilled everything right then and there. He’d opened his eyes and seen Will right in front of him, smiling, safe, warm, lit by daylight, broader in the shoulders and taller, grown up in a way Mike had once thought, for a few horrible hours, he’d never get to be. It had hit him all at once — the fact that they were there, they were alive, Will was alive, and they were together. That night in 1983, Mike had thought he’d never see Will again, but here he was now, grown up, lit up by the sun, no longer gone or thousands of miles away. 

Mike had choked on his own words. He hadn’t been able to get them out, and by the time he thought he might be able to, a demodog had tried to eat his face. After that, the moment had been lost. Will had been tense with bitter frustration, blinking back tears as he stormed away, and Mike had wanted to follow him. But, he hadn’t. He hadn’t, because now that the moment was gone, the realization of what he’d almost done crashed over him, and that rash, desperate part of him shrank away in the face of cold fear and shame. Even when Will came back, Mike didn’t say anything, because he’d been scared out of his mind.

Now, he was too late.

“Will?” Mike gripped his friend's shoulders. Will had just frozen, his mouth half-open, his color-shifting eyes flickering in and out of focus as some kind of glaze crept over them. It was exactly what had happened that morning, and it was scaring the crap out of him. Mike shook him. “Will? Hey!”

“What’s going on?” Hopper shouted, a pitch of worry in his voice. Usually, Hopper tried to look and sound as grounded as possible, even when everything went to shit, but whenever Joyce, El, Jonathan, or Will were involved in something, that went out the window. 

“I — I don’t know!” Mike yelled back, his breath catching with panic. His fingers dug into Will’s shoulders, desperate as those eyes slipped out of focus. “Will, can you hear me? Can you —”

Then, Will’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and Mike’s heart dropped.

A scream ripped from his throat, the likes of which he hadn’t heard from himself in years. Before Mike knew what he was doing, he had a hand at Will’s waist, closing around the emptiness where a walkman should be. He flew around to Will’s backpack and unzipped it, his hands shaking as he rifled through supplies, rations, ammunition, looking for — 

His heart stopped.

Will’s walkman was gone.

“No,” Mike breathed. He dug through the backpack: ammunition boxes, protein bars, sketchbook, spare shotgun shells, pencil case, lighter, headlamp — but no walkman. “No, no!”

Boots slapped against the pavement as Hopper ran towards them. Mike unslung his own backpack, ripped it open, and wrenched out his own walkman, placing the headphones over Will’s ears and starting it in the middle of a song.

“I’ve watched your face for a long time —”

Mike could hear the music, soft and tinny. He knew it was playing. He knew it was playing, and he knew the song, it was one Will loved, so why —

“Come on,” Mike said. His fingers trembled, and he realized he was cupping Will’s face in his hands. He didn’t let go. “Will. Will, come back. Come on, I know you can hear it.”

Will remained unresponsive, his eyes rolled back into his head, his lips parted, his body rigid.

“Oh, it’s called love,

Yes, it’s called love . . . .”

“Will.” Mike’s voice was a jagged whisper. Behind him, he could hear Holly screaming, Nancy yelling, Hopper shouting out in alarm, but none of it mattered. Invisible hands were strangling him, choking the air and the life out of him with every horrible second that dragged on. Will’s face was blank, his limbs locked like steel, and he didn’t even flinch as Mike’s grip grew desperately tighter. “Will!”

“What’s going on?” Hopper’s voice was rough and harsh, but for once, it didn’t seem entirely directed at Mike. “Why isn’t it working?”

“I — I don’t know —” Mike struggled to breathe. This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening —

Hopper sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes wide. Then, he blinked, and seemed to dredge up what stoicism he had left to look over his shoulder and bark, “Nancy, get Holly out of here!”

Nancy grabbed their sister and tried to run, but Holly screamed, a guttural noise that ripped through Mike’s soul.

“No!” Holly shrieked as Nancy grabbed her hand, and even though she’d been so scared earlier, she fought against Nancy’s grip to stay. “No, we don’t leave anyone behind!”

Mike fought back a sob as Nancy scooped up Holly by the waist and bolted for the gate. Holly wailed, and it dug into Mike’s heart like claws as he brushed a thumb under Will’s eye, begging please, please —

Holly screamed. Hopper jerked, raising his rifle, and Mike tore his eyes away from Will to see shadows bobbing up the street, the unmistakable gait of demodogs. Holly had caught sight of them from over Nancy’s shoulder as the two of them ran. They were increasingly out of range, within feet of the gate, but Mike, Hopper, and Will weren’t.

“Shit,” Hopper hissed. He met Mike’s gaze as he primed his rifle, somehow still holding onto a sense of calm even in all of this. “I’ll hold them off. Maybe it takes a while.”

Mike let out a choked noise, nodding desperately. Hopper paced forward, rifle lifted and ready to fire, and Will still remained motionless. Mike tugged at him, but it was like trying to move a statue.

“Oh, it dies so quickly 

It grows so slowly 

But when it dies, it dies for good —”

“Come on,” Mike pleaded, his voice breaking. He couldn’t even count the number of times he’d wanted to be this close to Will these past few months, to touch him, to hold him, but now Will was slipping like sand through his fingers. “I know you’re in there, come on. Come on, look at me, you’ve gotta fight it, Will, please —”

Slowly, drops of blood began to trickle from his blank eyes.

A strangled sob escaped Mike’s throat. He desperately tried to wipe it away, but the blood kept coming, and there was nothing he could do. Absolutely nothing. If only he’d paid more attention, he could’ve noticed the signs, told El or Hopper, somehow prevented this from happening —

“It’s called love,

And it belongs

To everyone but us —”

Blood trailed like tears, and Will remained frozen.

“Oh my God, oh my God, please, please don’t —” Words spilled from Mike’s mouth as he cupped Will’s cheeks, his fingers stained red, begging like either of them had a choice. “Don’t leave. Don’t do this, Will, I — I need you.” His voice was half a sob, half an awful confession. “I need you. I’ve always needed you, and I’ll never stop. I — I tried to pretend I didn’t, and I said all that stupid shit, and I — oh, my God, I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. I — I was scared. I was a fucking coward. That shit I said, when El was fighting Vecna, about —” His throat closed up. The memory of those words haunted him, because he’d just been trying to say anything that would keep her going, and it hadn’t been until they were all safe again when Mike realized how it must’ve sounded to Will. “It wasn’t true. Not all of it.  I think at one point, I — I started trying to talk to you instead. And it came out so, so wrong, but what I meant to say, is — my life didn’t start when I met her. It started when I met you.”

Mike might’ve been imagining it, but he thought he saw Will’s features twitch, just a little.

“Asking you to be my friend was the best thing I’ve ever done,” Mike choked out. Somewhere beyond them, gunfire went off, but he barely even noticed it. He cradled Will’s face in his hands, brushing his fingers through the other boy’s hair, tracing the curves of the cheekbones he knew so well, and struggled to fit the feeling into words. “It always will be.” 

Then, Will crumpled like a ragdoll. 

Mike screamed. He caught Will and fell with him, knees buckled, landing hard on the ground with the other boy in his arms. Desperately, he pressed two fingers below Will’s jawline, and —

Everything went cold.

The world around Mike narrowed, shrinking and becoming utterly insignificant because he was clutching Will’s limp body in his arms, looking into those blank eyes, knowing in his soul that nothing would ever be right again.

“MIKE!” 

Someone was yelling Mike’s name. He was vaguely aware of a snarling noise, and the earth faintly trembling. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“W-Will —” Mike gently shook his best friend’s shoulders, and when Will flopped limply, it was like a stone landing in his chest. 

Blank. Pale. Lifeless. Limp. Cold. Will’s face was still and empty. Mike remembered how he’d looked just before they’d walked through the gate: soft, bathed in golden light, gazing up at the sun as if spellbound by it. Mike had always loved the way Will’s eyes lit up like amber, how his skin glowed in warmth, how sunlight turned his hair all shades of gold. California had brought that out in him stronger than ever as he’d grown habituated to it, but just now . . . .

Just now, he looked like he’d been saying goodbye.

A strangled wail ripped up Mike’s throat. His back curved and he choked on his own breath, rejecting the air, rejecting what Will no longer breathed next to him. He cradled his best friend’s head under his chin, shaking erratically as he rocked back and forth, his nose brushing in soft brown hair and warmth that still lingered like a ghost. “Please,” he rasped, desperately holding onto that last vestige as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Don’t go where I can’t follow. Not again.”

The snarling grew louder. Something whizzed past Mike’s ear. He looked up, still cradling Will, and saw the horde of dogs thundering towards them. Ahead, Hopper fired into the swarm, but he couldn’t possibly deter all of them. Hopper spared a brief second to glance over his shoulder. His mouth was open, as if to yell for them to hurry up, but when he saw Will, he froze solid. Any hint of stoicism or stability that had once been in him was now gone, bleached out along with the color in his face. Ahead, the dogs were gaining. Soon, they would be almost too close to shoot.

Rage welled up from deep inside Mike. Even now, the Upside-Down wouldn’t let Will go. 

The swarm surged forward like a wave, and when they came, Mike ran to meet them. He screamed, his voice torn with rage as he drew his sword and slashed blindly into the horde of dogs, the masses of gray flesh hurtling towards them both and lashing at him, but he barely felt their teeth. All he could think about was protecting Will. “Leave — him — ALONE!”

Jaws dug into Mike’s calf, and he yelled in pain, twisting to slash at the dog that had gotten hold of him, but his leg buckled. He dropped to one knee, and was just barely able to skewer another dog before it bit a chunk out of his arm, but then the first went at his unprotected face. Sharp teeth cut across his neck and cheek, digging into his flesh, but then a blast split Mike’s ears, and the dog fell away with a yelp. Mike tried to get to his feet again, blinking blood out of his eyes, but then an arm curled around his chest. 

Before Mike knew it, he was being yanked backward. He cried out, trying to push the arm away, but a low voice spoke in his ear.

“Mike,” Hopper said, sounding like a man whose soul had left his body. “Stop.”

“No!” Mike’s voice ripped his throat as he desperately fought to free himself from Hopper’s grasp, his feet scrabbling against the ground, but it did nothing. Hopper continued to drag Mike away, running desperately for the gate even as Mike screamed, “WILL!”

Will lay in the street, unmoving, his skin pale as milk and his limbs folded as if he might be sleeping, but his eyes were wide open, and blank. 

Mike's sword fell out of his hand and he howled, fighting tooth and nail, kicking and punching and screaming his throat raw, Will’s name, over and over again. He didn't stop, not when Will’s crumpled body disappeared under the swarm of dogs, not even when they fell back through the gate; because that pale, bloody, glass-eyed face was still all Mike could see, was all he’d ever be able to see.

Chapter Text

Vecna didn’t put Will back into his body until the gate closed, and so all he could do was uselessly scream for them to run, dammit, while the dogs approached. Nancy had done so, sparing Will from hearing the rest of Holly’s heart-wrenching wails, but he wasn’t afforded the same kindness with the others. By the time Will’s lungs worked again, he found that he couldn’t breathe. He’d watched as Mike had put the headphones on him and begged, begged him to stay alive. Any other time, if Mike had said all those things to him, Will would’ve played them over and over in his head until those words were forever immortalized, but now they hurt like acid. 

You remember what I said to El, two months ago? It wasn’t true. Not all of it. I — I think at one point, I started trying to talk to you instead. And it came out so, so wrong, but what I meant to say, is — my life didn’t start when I met her. It started when I met you.

I need you. I’ve always needed you, and I’ll never stop. 

Will felt like his heart had been clawed out of his chest. 

“It’s called love,

And it cuts your life, like a broken knife —”

Will ripped off the headphones, shaking and gasping as his mind continued to reel. He’d watched helplessly as Mike had roared and charged the horde like an idiot , getting his face cut open and gashes torn into his limbs, fighting like a warrior with nothing to lose. It simultaneously took Will’s breath away and scared the crap out of him. He’d never seen Mike fight like that, not even when the Party had been cornered by a pack outside Melvald’s and El had almost gotten her leg torn off. Back then, Mike had blown out of nowhere and carefully dispatched the threat; but now he’d been a force of pure rage, screaming with tears running down his face as he took on the whole pack of dogs like a force of nature. He’d slashed wildly, indiscriminately, still going even as dogs tore into him, and in the end, it had taken Hopper to drag him away, still fighting tooth and nail, from Will’s motionless body. Mike had thrown himself at that horde like he’d wanted to die, like he wanted nothing more than to go out defending Will.

Earlier, Will had looked him in the eye and said, it’s going to be okay. 

God. He’d lied, hadn’t he?

“My, my,” said a crooning voice, and Will’s body went cold. “That was touching, wasn’t it?”

Harsh bile rose in Will’s throat, and his eyes burned. 

Touching.

He couldn’t get that sound out of his ears — the horrifying cacophony of Nancy, Hopper, Holly, Mike, all yelling in panic — Mike, cradling him and pleading, his face wet with tears and twisted in a brutal sob, Hopper’s face going paper-white, Holly waling, Nancy scooping her up and bolting for the gate, the horde of dogs tearing into Mike as he mowed through them, the blast of Hopper’s rifle, Mike thrashing as Hopper tried to drag him away, and that scream — 

Will blinked hard, trying to force it all away. It wouldn’t haunt him for much longer. 

“Al-alright,” he choked out, trying to hide the sob that was clawing at his lungs. He looked up at Vecna, the towering, man-shaped mass of twisted gray flesh and milky eyes and clawed hands, the curling, sharp-toothed smile, and choked out, “You have me. Just do it already.”

Vecna’s smile only grew wider. “Do what, Will?”

He swallowed down the wash of sour bile, the tears that made his eyes burn. Of course Vecna would want to savor this. He’d want to make it as hard as possible, when Will just wanted it done already. Every second he remained standing was a second longer he could think about the people he was leaving behind — El, with her bright eyes and sisterly smile; his mother, bursting with fierce bravery; Jonathan, the quiet but steady way he cared; Hopper’s gruff affection, Dustin’s laughter, Max’s snark, Lucas’s determination, Holly’s shining hope, Mike —

Mike.

Mike, and the way he’d held Will in those last moments when Vecna tore his mind away from his body, crying and pleading. Will hadn’t felt the way Mike had cradled him. He’d watched, from outside himself, and felt his chest cave in as Mike had sobbed, don’t go where I can’t follow .

It was what Sam had said to Frodo in the darkness of a monster’s lair, when he’d been too late to save the friend he loved like his own soul.

Will sucked in a gasping breath, like a punch in the chest, no doubt one of his last.

Mike had always been his Sam. 

At least he’d been able to tell him that, in one way or another.

Will swallowed back his tears and glared up at Vecna, his voice guttural and strangled as he spat, “Just kill me. You’ve been trying for years, and guess what? I’m done. I’m done playing your stupid fucking game. You’ve waited this long, so just do it already! ”

Vecna’s smile grew even wider, curling like the fucking Grinch. Will braced himself, determined to hold onto that memory of his friends and family, something good in his last moments —

“ Kill you?”

A sound echoed around them, stopping and starting, and Will realized it was laughter.

Vecna’s laughter.

His heart dropped.

“Will.” Vecna’s head tilted, his teeth shining. “Why on earth would I kill you, when you provide such use to me?”

Will tried to step back, but his legs wouldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the ground by some invisible voice, strong as his fear, strong as the blood pumping to his head yelling no, no, no —

“We're going to do such beautiful things together, Will,” Vecna said, through his slimy, crocodile grin. His clawed hand reached out, and Will couldn’t run, couldn’t duck, couldn’t even flinch as those cold, sharp claws grated against his cheek, jagged like metal. Vecna’s voice slithered up to his ears and burrowed into his mind, drowning out everything else, thrusting Will into cold, dark oblivion.

“Such . . . beautiful things . . . .”

He wished his heart would stop.

Chapter Text

Eleven had bolted off into the woods at the news, and Steve and Robin had chased after her. Mike wasn’t sure how long they’d been gone for. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore, except for the wood grain of Hopper’s kitchen counter and the fact that he’d bled all over it.

Nancy had patched him up. He’d sat at the kitchen counter in Hopper’s cabin, listless and bleeding into the wood until she’d gotten back from helping Holly and their parents move to the army-commandeered police station. She’d sat next to him, wordlessly opened a first-aid kit, and done the best job she could with the supplies she had. Any other time, he would’ve fussed and protested that he could do it himself, but now . . . .

Now, he could barely even move.

His fingers closed feebly around the glass of water Nancy pushed into his hands, but all he really noticed was the fact that his fingers were still streaked with his own drying blood.

Some of it was probably Will’s.

That thought shook Mike out of his trance for a brief moment as he broke into a sob. He pressed his hands to his face, tears mixing with blood as he slumped over the counter and choked out a stream of mangled words into his palms, trying desperately to apologize to what little bit of Will was left. 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.

Mike felt sick. His fingernails dug into his scalp as his mind ran into a wall, over and over again. It didn’t fit. It wasn’t right. How did this keep happening? How was there supposed to be one of them without the other? Three years ago, he’d thought the fear of that alone would kill him, but now he could feel his heart hanging gutted in his chest. He felt like a tattered flag in the wind, limp and full of holes, at the mercy of the elements. He hadn’t changed out of his clothes. He still had blood and ooze all over him. His empty sword sheath hung at his belt, sickeningly light, another thing left useless without its missing piece. Mike struggled to breathe. Will’s not gone, he can’t be gone, he CAN’T be —

“Mike.”

It was the first time anyone had said his name since they’d gotten back. Mike flinched, and saw Hopper reaching across the kitchen counter, towards him.

There was a piece of paper in his hand. Yellow, folded into a neat square, with handwriting Mike recognized.

“This was in your sleeping bag,” Hopper said, his voice low and quiet. 

Mike’s heart shot into his ruined throat and he took the paper. Will. Will had left him a note. He’d known that something was going to happen, which meant he’d had a plan. Maybe that plan wasn’t over. Mike would unfold this piece of paper and it would tell him that everything would be okay, like Will had said, hoping for some loophole, some kind of secret tactic, something to tell him everything would be alright, that Will was still out there, but he saw the first sentence, and his stomach pitched. 

Dear Mike,

It's Tuesday morning, and I already know I'm going to die.

The paper wrinkled in Mike’s hands, blurring in his vision. 

He didn’t want to keep reading. Some wild, grief-stricken part of him wailed that maybe, maybe if he left some of Will’s words yet unread, a piece of him would still be alive. They could still have one more conversation, one more —

Mike clutched the letter, two pieces of paper folded together, against his chest and choked out a horrible, gut-wrenching sob. His knees buckled, and before he knew it, he was leaning against the counter, grief and rage boiling up in him in a volatile combination.

Already know —

He knew.

The way Will had carried himself, that look, the missing walkman, it’s going to be okay —

He had planned it.

“Mike,” Hopper said slowly, his voice low, but shaken. 

“He’s not —” Mike choked on the word. “He’s not — he can’t be — he’s not —” His heart jolted, pounding weakly, desperately as he clutched that letter in his hand, the neatly folded paper now wrinkled. “He could’ve — we — we have to go back —”

“Mike,” Hopper said again, his eyes sad and weary. “Mike, you saw it, he —”

“No!” Mike bellowed, throwing the stupid glass of water across the room. It shattered against the far wall, making everyone jump except for Hopper, but he could hardly care. “We have to go back! Will’s not —” He gasped, unable to force the word out around the sob ripping up his throat, tearing his insides to pieces. “He’s not —!"

“He is not gone.” 

Mike froze. 

Then, he jerked around, and saw that someone else had come into the cabin.

Eleven was standing in the open doorway to the porch, her hair wild, her limbs and clothes streaked with dirt and gray ooze, blood running from her nose, her dark eyes puffy from crying but as sharp and unyielding as ever. Her cheeks shone with tear tracks, but a fire had overtaken her, similar to the one that scorched Mike, except El blazed along with it.

At the kitchen table, Joyce swayed. Her face, if possible, had gone paler. “Wh-what?”

“Will is not gone.” Eleven’s gaze swept over them all, fierce and determined. “Henry took him. But he is not gone.”

The air of the room changed instantly, and for the first time, Mike became aware of it. Most of everyone was here — Joyce next to Jonathan at the kitchen table, Dustin hugging his knees in the corner, Lucas on the couch with his hands digging into the cushions, Nancy now at Jonathan’s side. Across the counter from Mike, Hopper’s shoulders squared, the defeat melting from his eyes and replaced with resilience. Dustin went stock-still in the corner, Lucas’s eyes widened with hope and horror, Nancy’s posture straightened, and color returned to Joyce’s cheeks as she whispered, “How — how do you —”

“I looked.” Eleven swallowed, and her eyes flashed with tears. “I went back, and he wasn’t there.”

Hopper’s voice snapped through the air. “You did what —?"

She ignored him, holding Joyce’s gaze. “I went back, and there was nothing left of — of him. No blood. No clothes. The dogs would have left something of him, but  —” She plunged one hand into the pocket of her cargo pants and drew out something blue, tangled in wires.

Mike’s heart almost stopped.

It was his walkman.

“Dogs are —” El’s eyes brightened, her lips pursing in frustration. “They are not neat. Or gentle. They destroy everything in their path, but this —” She held out Mike’s perfectly undamaged walkman, and clicked the button. The knobs in it began to whir, and then —

It was faint and tinny, but unmistakable.

“— oh, love,

Love, love, love, love —

It’s called love,

And it belongs to us —”

“Will wasn’t killed. He was taken.” El set the walkman down on the kitchen table and met Mike’s gaze. She strode towards him and lifted her hand — she was holding something else, long and sharp, upside-down by the handle —

His sword .

Mike had been standing frozen, his mind roiling like a storm, but now his lungs sucked oxygen back into his body. The blade, three feet of sharp steel, was streaked with gray ooze and monster blood, but undamaged. No chips marked the edge, and barely even a few scratches. The pommel and long crossguard shone up at him as brightly as the moon, undeniably extant despite the shit it had been pulled through. El’s fingers were loose against the sword’s hilt, only taking up half of it. The leather of the grip itself was dark, so dark Mike originally had thought it black, but now, against the pink of El’s fingers, he realized it was a deep shade of green. Eleven’s eyes flashed, and Mike couldn’t help but remember something else, something he’d read in a book years ago.

Your fingers would remember their old strength better, if they grasped a sword hilt.

Mike reached out with one trembling, bloodstained, half-bandaged hand, and his fingers closed instinctively around the grip. Immediately, his skin sang out at the feel of the soft leather around the hilt, the familiar weight of the blade, adrenaline rushing back into him with the force of a river. El withdrew her hand from the weapon, her eyes glittering with enough hope and courage to keep them both afloat. Mike drew in a breath, and found it easier this time. His walkman had survived. His sword had survived. 

El’s eyes flashed, and in her, Mike saw the light of miracles.

“Turn on the TV.” 

He responded immediately. He slid his sword back into its scabbard, like a puzzle piece clicking into place, and rushed for the remote. It didn’t take him long to find static. Once that was done, he stumbled over to the couch and collapsed, breathing heavily as he clutched the hilt of his sword in one hand and Will’s letter in the other. He kept repeating those words in his head, clinging to them like a talisman: Not gone. Not gone. An arm came up around his shoulders — Lucas — and Mike leaned against him, relishing the support. 

“Just breathe, man,” Lucas whispered, his voice almost as raw as Mike’s. “Just breathe.”

Mike elbowed him in the ribs, though without any real strength, and croaked, “You too.”

Jonathan, who’d been listless, was now wide-eyed and rigid, looking like a corpse hesitant to come back to life as he stared at El and croaked, “You — you’re sure?”

Her throat bobbed in a swallow. “Not yet.”

Something glimmered in Jonathan’s eyes, a faint, desperate hope, and he pulled a dish towel from the oven handle. He held it out to her, his hands shaking. “Just be sure.”

El nodded, looking close to tears again as she took the towel from his hands. Jonathan pulled her into a brief hug, whispering something only she could hear, then let her go towards the television.

“El,” Mike whispered as she approached, his voice ripped to shreds, the sob in his throat turning from jagged to soft in seconds. Lucas squeezed his shoulder. Mike’s hands shook as he clutched Will’s letter in both hands now, the last tether to him. “You think — you really think he —”

“So do you,” Eleven said, holding his gaze with a strength he could barely imagine before sitting cross-legged on the floor, tying the dish towel around her head, and placing her hands on her knees-palm up.

For a few moments, no one breathed. The room filled with the crackling static of the television, and all anyone could focus on was Eleven, sitting stock-still on the carpet, a drop of blood slowly trailing from her nose. Dustin sat down next to Lucas, gripping the other boy’s shoulder, and they stayed like that, suspended in time as the horrible seconds ticked on, holding onto each other just as they had three years ago. Mike’s left arm was cold from the memory of the boy who should’ve been there.

Then, Eleven gasped, and Mike remembered to breathe as well. She ripped off the blindfold, and Mike braced himself for the worst, but —

“I found him,” she breathed, twisting to look around at them all. Her eyes, still puffy from crying, were now bright with joy. “He’s alive."

“Jesus H. Christ —” The door slammed open, and a sweaty, red-faced Steve stumbled into the cabin, his expression collapsing with relief when he saw Eleven sitting on the carpet, and quickly flowing into tired, grief-stricken irritation. “Hopper, what the hell —?”

“Will’s not dead,” she responded, ripping off a chunk of an Eggo with her teeth and chewing it at the speed of light.

“Wha —” Steve’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead as he glanced around at the room of people bustling around with weapons, supplies, food — clearly not grieving. “What?”

“Will’s not dead,” Nancy repeated, cocking a sawed-off shotgun as she passed him.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, his shoulders rolling back, and some of the weight melting from his posture. His eyes searched the room, and he found Joyce, who was on her third cigarette, but also cramming a revolver full of bullets. There were shadows under her eyes, and she looked like the human personification of the phrase fuck it we ball , but she no longer seemed like she would get blown over in the next strong wind. Steve grinned, a light flickering in his eyes again. Almost immediately, Robin crashed into him from behind, and they both nearly fell over. In any other situation, Mike would’ve laughed, but as he leaned against the wall with his stomach twisted in knots, he couldn’t find the strength.

Will was alive — alive — but he was trapped in the Upside-Down again. 

And Mike had left him there.

“Hopper?” Nancy yelled, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Where’d you put the extra shells?”

“They’re under the bath towels in the cupboard!” Hopper barked from where he was cleaning guns next to Joyce. He caught sight of Steve. “Harrington, where’s your bat?”

“Lucille? She’s in the —”

“Go get her — it! Go get it! El —” Hopper’s voice softened immediately. “What’s the gate looking like?”
“He’s moved Will,” she answered, cramming the rest of the Eggo into her mouth and reaching for another, talking as she chewed. “Creel house.”

“We can’t get there undetected,” Nancy said, hurrying back into view with a stack of boxes, no doubt full of shotgun shells. She dumped them on the coffee table next to Joyce’s revolver, and Hopper’s halfway-deconstructed rifle, then grabbed an empty ammo belt. “Max had to distract him last time. We won’t be able to pull the same trick again, he’ll be expecting it.”

“So, we’ll draw him away from there.” Lucas leaned forward, his eyes sharp as he stuffed boxes of crossbow bolts into his bag. “He’s come out after us before.”

“After me.” El finished the last Eggo, wiping her mouth. “I can draw him away.”

Hopper and Joyce flinched in identical displays of panic. Hopper covered his up quickly, wearing a stoic mask of reluctance and terror but knowing what had to be done, and Joyce leaned forward, bracing her temples. Hopper rubbed her back, his eyes flickering.

“El,” he said, slowly. “If you’re doing this, I’m coming with you.”

She nodded, her eyes bright with barely held-back tears. “I know.”

“Guys, if he goes after El, he’s gonna pull out all the stops,” Dustin pointed out, handing her a plastic water bottle. She practically crushed it. “Demobats, demodogs, probably some demo-shit we haven’t even seen yet.”

“He won’t come after me if he thinks he can’t get me —”

“Yeah, but if he sees you alone, he’ll know we’re playing him.” Dustin began to pace. Now that they had reason to believe Will was alive — alive, he was alive — the shake had faded from Dustin’s hands, and while his eyes were still red, he was in full Dustin Henderson problem-solving mode, with more intensity than Mike had ever seen. “Come on guys, think about it. El — you need probable cause to be going down there. Let’s say you’re getting Will’s —” Dustin’s voice seized, and his eyes momentarily glassed over. He looked like he had a rock stuck in his throat. “Will’s — body. That’s your reason for going back, you’re looking for it, or to get revenge for him, and you’d have people with you, people . . . people who want to do that just as badly.”

Joyce’s face went pale as she realized what he was implying. “You can’t seriously be —”

“Hold on.” Hopper’s voice was low, grounding, even as Dustin realized what had just come out of his mouth and he looked like he dearly wanted to hide behind the couch. “Joyce. He’s got a point. You want to be the one to get Will, and Vecna — Henry — he knows that. We were the people who went in and got him last time, it only makes sense that we’d be the ones to do it again.”

Joyce buried her face in her hands. 

Hopper kept a hand on her back, his voice shaking slightly, but he kept talking. His gaze roved over the room, finding and singling out a few people. “This asshole knows we don’t want to put more kids in danger, and so —” His voice hitched, and his eyes went dead, but he managed to force out, “So, if we don’t want him to see us coming, that’s what we’ll have to do.”

Mike thanked whatever God existed that his mom wasn’t in the room. As it was, Nancy’s eyebrows shot towards the stratosphere, and she snapped, “You’ve got to be kidding.” She jabbed a finger towards Mike. “Do you seriously think I’m about to let my little brother run off into that hellhole —”

“Hey!” Mike protested, twisting to glare at her. “I’m the same age you were when you went monster-hunting with Johnathan! I’m old enough!”

Her anger snapped towards him. “I wasn’t asking your opinion —”

“Hey. Hey!" Hopper yelled, raising his free hand to quell their argument. He glared at both of them, but under it was a sadness, a deep sadness that stretched to his core like a crack in a geode. “Nancy. Think like One. What would he expect?”

Her eyes brightened, and she pursed her lips like she wanted to answer, but didn’t like it. After a few heartbeats, she let out a shaky sigh, and pointed at Steve. “Only if he and Jonathan go with them.”

Robin popped up from behind the counter, her brow furrowed. “Hey! I’m coming, too!”

“You can go,” Hopper said, pointing at Robin, then Steve. “And you.” His gaze turned to Jonathan, who’d made gradual improvement in not looking like a corpse these past few minutes. “But, you —”

“I’m going,” Jonathan said, his eyes dead and his voice hard as stone. “Try and stop me.”

Hopper faltered, then let out a rough sigh. Joyce leaned into him, and he tightened an arm around her shoulders. “It’s your mom’s call.”

Joyce was silent for a few minutes, then looked up, dragging her fingers along her cheeks. Her eyes were hollow, but as she made eye contact with Jonathan, they brightened with tears. 

“I’m not losing another son,” she whispered. 

His throat bobbed in a swallow. “I know.”

“Do you hear me, Jonathan?” Joyce said. Her voice was shaky, and she reached across the coffee table, out towards him. “I’m not burying another child. I cannot do this again.”

“I know.” He rushed to her side, clasping her hand, his eyes now glassy like hers. “Mom. I know.”

She squeezed his hand, her voice guttural. “I am not losing another son.”

“You won’t,” he promised, and then he pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her shoulder. “You won’t.”

Joyce cradled him, a dry sob escaping her chest, and Mike looked away. It was the kind of moment too private for spaces like these, not meant to be witnessed by outsiders like him. 

“So —” Mike glanced at Dustin, then El, then Hopper. “You really think this’ll work?”

“I did not step on any vines,” El said. “He did not know I was there.”

“And — I mean, think about it.” Dustin swiped his hair out of his eyes, sitting down on the couch. He still looked a little pale, but his features were set with determination. “When we went after Holly, we sent Nancy and Hopper, our best fighters, and look what Vecna did. He knew they were coming because he knows who amongst us is the most powerful. He’s more focused on them. It’s like using the Eagles to fly to Mordor. But, when we travel in a low-power group —”

“We’re the Hobbits,” Mike said, the words ringing in his mind like the strike of a sword, and his mouth ran off with it. “We — we’re small, unassuming — he doesn’t think we’re a threat compared to the others, so he won’t be paying attention to us.”

Dustin snapped his fingers. "Exactly! Which is why we need the rest of the Fellowship, the heavy-hitters—” He waved at Hopper, Joyce, El, and Nancy. “— to grab the army and go charge the Black Gate.”

Hopper glanced over, his brow furrowed. “The what?”

“He means, attack One head-on,” Joyce clarified, sniffling. She drew in a deep breath, and let it out. “We need to do something bold to draw his attention away from the kids, and so that’s what we’ll do.” She met Hopper’s gaze. “Do you think Owens . . . ?”

“I think he’s been looking for an excuse for the past three months,” Hopper said, squeezing her hand. “It’s our best shot.”

“I mean —” Dustin looked at Jonathan, and winced. “For this to work, we should probably keep the Hobbit group as small as possible, but —”

“But that wouldn’t be safe,” Steve decided, leaning against the wall. His nail bat rested against his shoulder, which couldn’t have been comfortable, but it looked cool. “Someone’s gotta keep you three shitheads from getting eaten, and that’ll be me, Rob, and Jonathan.”

Dustin still looked hesitant, but then Jonathan, still with an arm around his mother, suggested, “It’s like if Faramir had gone with Frodo and Sam.”

Dustin’s face twisted like Jonathan had just spoken heresy, which he kind of had. “Dude, that completely ruins the narrative —”

“You get my point, though.” Jonathan gestured to himself, Steve, and Robin. “We’re not exactly threatening, either —”

Steve scoffed. “Hey —”

Jonathan ignored him. “ — and it can’t hurt to have some extra eyes around.”

Dustin pursed his lips for a bit, working over the idea in his mind, his brow creased in worry, but then, he reluctantly nodded. “Okay. Okay. And not because I’m a pussy and the idea of a few other people with guns around makes me feel safe, but because bringing more people means more attention and therefore more monsters —”

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Steve said, patting Dustin’s shoulder. “Okay, Ghengis Khan. When do we leave?”

“We have to get Will out of there,” Mike blurted, his heart pounding. “As soon as possible.”

“I know.” Dustin fisted his hands in his curly hair, knocking off his cap. His face was tight with frustration. “I know, but we’ve gotta think — game plan. Think about the pretense. And we’ve got to prepare, too — I mean, we need weapons, protection, flashlights, bikes —”

“We can’t use bikes,” Robin said, sitting down next to Mike and biting a chunk out of a cornbread muffin. She offered one to Jonathan, but he shook his head. “Not with how overgrown the vines have become, we’d run all over them, and then boop! Game over.”

“We can’t go by foot, though,” Dustin pointed out. “We need to be able to move quickly, especially if we get noticed.”

“Right.” Lucas perked up, a light dawning across his face like a diabolical idea. “Right.”

They all turned to look at him. Lucas had been fairly quiet so far, even quieter than Mike, but now he’d steepled his fingers, his eyes shining like he was about to make his D&D character do something daring and truly genius. He opened his mouth, but almost immediately, Dustin cut him off.

“No.” Dustin jabbed a finger at him, eyes wide. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, man!” Lucas protested. “Think about it! We could dodge the vines, travel fast, be super maneuverable —”

“Super maneuverable for you, you with your summer camps and your uncle in Texas —”

“Hold on, hold on.” Steve glanced between them, looking utterly bewildered. “What are you two shits talking about?”

Lucas raised his eyebrows, and he and Dustin entered into a wicked staring contest that lasted all of ten seconds before Dustin slumped in defeat.

“ Fine, ” he groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Fine, if you can find enough —”

“Yes!”

“ — and if they’re chill, Lucas, I’m not getting thrown into a river again —!”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem!” He nodded, grinning. “How soon are we leaving?”

Dustin glanced at Hopper. “Uh — Hopper? Input?”

Hopper had been watching them with a faint smile, but now he snapped back to business. “Get me that map and put it on the kitchen counter. We need to talk routes. After that, we’ll finalize a timetable, then inventory, and I’ll go with my team to arrange things with the military. While we’re out, you all —” He gestured at them, his eyebrows raised. “are gonna be sleeping.”

Mike’s brain suffered a brief short-circuit. Lucas stiffened next to him, and Dustin gaped. All at once, the three of them erupted into protest.

“What?”

“Will’s out there alone, every second we delay —!”

 “We can’t sleep, are you insane —?”

“Short rest,” Jonathan said loudly, finally accepting a cornbread muffin from Robin. His eyes traveled over the three of them. He looked similarly reluctant, but he remained strong, cool-headed. “It’s smart to take a short rest before battle, right?”

“Oh.” Dustin blinked, his shoulders relaxing somewhat. “Well, when you put it like that . . . .”

Within minutes, they were all crowded around the kitchen counter as Hopper sketched arrows across a map of Hawkins. It was decided that the A Team — El, Hopper, Nancy, Joyce, and whoever they could grab from the police or the army — would come in through the rift they took a few hours ago, and retrace their steps into the heart of town; while the B Team would take the road gate and approach the Creel house once Vecna was distracted. Dustin had christened the two teams, and none of the adults seemed to get the joke. They spent the next half hour hashing out logistics, and for the entire time, Mike felt like his brain was about to explode. 

“Okay,” Hopper said at last, letting out a long breath. “I’ll call Owens, then the station. All of you, do a weapons check, and then I want you to get as much sleep as you can before we head out. We’re talking a power nap, not a siesta. I’ll wake you all up at thirty to go. You’ll spend those thirty minutes checking your weapons again , along with your packs, and I want new batteries in everyone’s walkie-talkies. A-Team leaves as soon as B-Team gets sorted with transportation, and B-Team, you wait for the signal before going through your gate.” Hopper’s eyes darted over them all, sharp and stoic. Mike knew he had to be at least a little uneasy about all of this, but he was damn good at hiding it. “Are we clear?”

Mike wanted to yell, Sleep? Are you fucking crazy? but one look from Nancy shut him up. He reluctantly quashed down his restless indignation, staring down at the X that marked the Creel house on the map while everyone else murmured their affirmations. Even though every bit of him was raring to go right now, Hopper had a point. A-Team needed time to prepare, and even though Mike hated to admit it, a short rest would probably do them good. 

“Good.” Hopper gave them a short nod and rolled up the map. “Now go the fuck to sleep.”

Mike suppressed a groan along with his friends. Hopper, Joyce, and Murray hurried out of the cabin to go get reinforcements, and Steve immediately complained about being the babysitter again, but had them all in their sleeping bags within ten minutes. 

“I’m gonna sit right here,” he said, holding up a finger as he slid down against the front door. “And if any one of you little shits tries to sneak out on me, I’ll throw your ass into the lake. Capiche?”

They all grumbled replies. Nancy and Jonathan were out ‘patrolling’, so there was no one but Robin to dispute Steve’s authority, and she was already passed out. Steve flicked the lights out and leaned against the door, but Mike was a practiced late-night reader, and he knew how to cover his tracks. Once he was sure Steve’s breathing had evened out, Mike poked an arm out of his sleeping bag, grabbed his flashlight from where it lay next to his shoes, and carefully withdrew back into the bowels of cloth and insulation, clicking the flashlight onto its lowest setting.

He hadn’t changed out of his clothes, none of them had, and so when he reached for the back pocket of his jeans, Will’s letter was still there. Carefully, Mike unfolded it, and now that he could breathe, now that there was hope, now that this might not be their last conversation, he lifted it up to the light. His heart was still pounding out of his chest, and his stomach still felt as though it were weighed down by a submarine, but that familiar handwriting called to him, and so as tears welled in his eyes again, Mike began to read it. 

Dear Mike,

It's Tuesday morning, and I already know I'm going to die.

Vecna’s going after Holly, and I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen. I won't let another kid face what I've been going through for the past three years, because it's been hell. If Vecna wants some kind of sick sacrifice, he can take me, because he's already ruined me. Part of me will always be ruined because of what happened, and I’ve stopped trying to change that. I just want this bullshit to end. I wanted to see the end of it, but I think I've always known I wouldn't. I cheated death that night, and I got three more years, but I've always known he’ll come back. I just don't want him to take anyone else. Just me. It ends with me.

I feel a bit better, knowing that. And I know I'm leaving you all behind, but it's not without reason. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if Holly gets taken like I was. This way, Vecna gets what he wants, and Holly gets to live her life without looking over her shoulder. I haven't saved myself, but at least I've saved someone else from my fate. He’ll take me, he'll get what he would’ve gotten anyway from Holly — a soul, or whatever, I don't know, he doesn't seem to care — and you’ll put him in the fucking ground. You, El, Mom, Jonathan, Dustin, Lucas, Nancy, Hopper. You'll get his ass and make sure he never threatens anyone ever again. 

I know you will.

And — I guess, because I know I'm about to die, I'm full of all this weird clarity and serenity, because carpe diem, right, I'm not gonna see tomorrow, and everything that freaks me out seems stupid, so —

So, if you're having trouble reconciling with the fact that I'm gone, just know that I'm not 

I wasn’t who you thought I was. Not really. I mean, duh, it's me, Will, but I never told you

I have 

I

I’m gay. 

Was gay. Whatever. If I’m a ghost floating around somewhere, that ghost is still probably gay, because I've always been like this. Anyway. Yeah, that's the big secret, that should make shit easier, because what kind of

WHO AM I FUCKING KIDDING I AM ABOUT TO DIE. FUCK THIS.

I don't have enough time to write everything down. I wouldn't have time to tell it to you even if I tried, and I’m too damn scared to do it while I'm alive, because what if I lose you, if I haven't already, but there's still that part of my brain that says fuck it fuck it fuck it I don't want to die without SOMEONE knowing. Because — it doesn't feel wrong, okay? I know it should. When I first recognized it, I was horrified, and I tried to shove it down, but goddammit, I’m about to die and I don't fucking want to anymore. 

I LOVE YOU, MIKE WHEELER, YOU SHITHEAD.

I love you. I love the way you care deeply and talk endlessly, I love your mind and the stories you’re always coming up with, I love your dedication to everything you do and every friend you make, I love the way you hold me like you’ll never let go, I love your smile and the way you laugh and the way you make me laugh even when I feel like I’m drowning, I love how you see things no one else does, I’ve loved you for years and I love you like breathing. 

And I wish you'd called more, and I wish I’d called more, and I wish I'd written you letters or something corny like that. I wish you weren’t so easy to forgive or hard to stay mad at, and I wish I wasn’t so in love with you so I could be fucking pissed at you for making me feel this way, for saying and doing all the shit you do, but I can’t. As much as I want to, I can’t, and I guess that makes me a masochist or whatever, but I don’t care because goddammit, these past few years have been hell on earth, but when I’m with you, it feels bearable.

So, yeah. Hopefully that’ll make losing me a bit easier

However that makes you feel, it’s okay. Confused, angry, disgusted, it’s all okay. Any other day, I’d agonize over how this would make you feel, what kind of taste it would leave in your mouth, but hey, I’m dying today. I guess that means I get to be a bit selfish, huh? There you go. That’s the big secret. Do with it what you will. 

But, wherever I’m going (if there’s anywhere to go at all) I know I’ll miss everyone. Maybe Chester will keep me company until I’m able to make friends up there. Who knows, I could run into Bob, and he can tell me everything I’ve forgotten. That . . . that would be nice.

But, I’ll still be lonely without my family and the party, so — think about me every so often, will you?

I’ll miss you.

You won’t know it, but I’ll spend these next few hours savoring every breath, every smile, every chance I get to be around you. It’s not in the way my heart wants it to be, and that’s okay, because more than anything, I just want you to be happy. I think that’s what love is, really. So, I hope that at some point, in these next few hours, we find something to smile about, and I can carry that with me to the next place. If there is one. Maybe it’ll be like the Undying Lands, and you can join me someday, you and Mom and Jonathan and everyone else under trees and sunlight, somewhere far away from all this darkness.

Do me a favor? Think of me there — in the West, where the sea meets the sky, white shores and seabirds calling. I’m just stepping on the boat, like Frodo, sailing off to new lands. 

I’ll wait there for you.

Love,

Will

Mike stared at the last page for a long, long time. 

He thought he’d cried himself fresh out of tears, but he was wrong.

When his breathing was close to steady again, Mike carefully folded up the letter, tucked it in the left breast pocket of his flannel, crawled out of his sleeping bag, and went to go find his sword.

Chapter Text

Will came to consciousness slowly, but part of him knew it wasn’t really consciousness at all.

He was lying on a dark floor that rippled like liquid, but wasn’t wet. He blinked slowly, raising his head, and realized that floor stretched off into nothing, oblivion, forever.

Will’s heart thudded in his chest. 

Am I dead?

But, no — his heart was beating. He had to still be alive. But then, why —

Alone, a small part of him whispered. Alone again. 

Will scrambled to his feet. His breath came quick as the silence pressed in on him, dark and smothering and threatening to swallow him whole. He whipped around, scouring the darkness, and then a voice broke through it.

“Hello, Will.”

He flinched, stumbling backwards. A man had appeared about ten feet away, blue-eyed and blonde-haired and sporting cheekbones that could cut glass. The man tilted his head, and his white jumpsuit almost made him look like he was glowing. A smile twisted across his face. 

“You,” Will whispered. “You're —”

“Henry.” The man took a step forward, still smiling. “Vecna. One. I must say, I like all the little epithets you’ve given me.”

Will’s voice was a jagged exhale of horror. “What are you doing to me?” 

“I’m honoring our deal.”

“H-How? How is this honoring our deal? You —” Will’s voice broke, ringing in an awful mix of a yell and a sob. “You said you would kill me!”

Vecna’s smile grew wider. “I said no such thing.”

Will wanted to throw up. His legs were trembling, the back of his neck felt as though it was on fire, and every inch of his body screamed as that man’s crocodile eyes bored into his soul. 

“Were you even listening to me, Will?” Vecna folded his hands behind his back, and began to circle him like a predator. His teeth glinted. “You have such talent. And yet, you don’t even know how to use it.”

What fucking talent? he wanted to scream. A talent for getting kidnapped by monsters? For being tortured? For having my whole life thrown to —

“Truthfully, I would rather have Eleven,” Vecna continued, sighing softly. “But, ever since I came back to Hawkins, I’ve had my eye on you, Will Byers. You don’t have the same ruthlessness she does, but you could, one day. Until then — well, that little stunt your friends pulled did deplete my energy somewhat.” One came to a stop, looking sidelong at Will with his lips twisting in a smirk. “You’ll make an excellent battery.”

Pain shot through Will’s skull. He screamed, falling to his knees, and the darkness swallowed him.

When Will woke up next, he laid in the darkness for a long time, as still as he could. When his chest eventually began to hurt from too much shallow breathing, he risked opening his eyes.

Nothing. No buildings, people, anything for as far as he could see.

Slowly, Will sat up, taking a shaky breath and resisting the urge to hug his knees. The prickling at his neck had faded, but it was still there, more like background noise compared to the roar it had been earlier. Vecna was gone, but he was watching. He’d always be watching.

A sob squeezed Will’s throat, and he ducked his head. Here he was again. Three years of running, hiding, and fighting, but here he fucking was, still a scared little kid shivering alone in the dark. 

He didn’t call out for his mom, or Jonathan, or Mike like he had last time. He didn’t want to hear the way his voice would echo in the emptiness, traveling far but heard by no one. As far as he could tell, he was still alive, but — what kind of life was this? At least in death, there was an end, or something . Will’s eyes burned as he remembered what he’d written in his letter to Mike: Think of me there — in the West, where the sea meets the sky, white shores and seabirds calling. If this was death, it was nothing like Valinor. This place was more like the pit under Goblin-Town, where pale creatures lurked with riddles in the dark, and Will’s eyes kept expecting to see them. 

At least Bilbo knew where he was. At least he knew if he was alive or dead. At least he had a sword, to defend himself with, or to —

A rough, choking gasp escaped Will’s throat. He hugged his knees and tried to fight back against that sob, but it was useless. Even though he was still supposedly alive, everyone thought he was dead. He’d made sure of that. They’d grieve him, never knowing —

Tears streaked down Will’s cheeks as he remembered the way Holly had screamed, how Hopper’s face had gone the color of ash, and how Mike had cradled him, begging him not to go. Will didn’t want to imagine how his mom, or Jonathan, or El would react to the news. They probably already knew by now, except — it wasn’t true.

He was still here, but they’d never know. 

Will squeezed his eyes shut. Somehow, this felt even worse than dying. He was still here, but he’d never see his friends or family again, never leave this stupid dark echo chamber, never be anything but a —

“Hey, hey, Mama said the way you move, gon’ make you sweat, gon’ make you groove —! ”

Will stiffened.

What the fuck?

In the distance, a faint, “ba na na now-now, now, nah na-na now-now!” echoed from an unseen source, like a person mimicking the sound of a guitar. Slowly, Will got to his feet, peering through the darkness. Was this one of Vecna’s tricks? Or —

Something flashed in the distance, and Will’s heart jumped.

Or there was someone else down here.

And creatures in the dark didn’t know Led Zeppelin.

Before Will knew it, his feet were carrying him off towards that faint, flickering figure. As he got closer, sending ripples across the floor, he realized it was a young man, maybe even old enough to be in his twenties. He had long hair like Mike’s, but his was brown and even more of a mess, barely kept in control by a skull-and-crossbones bandanna. He pranced around in ripped black jeans and a dark jacket, kicking his feet through the rippling floor and splashing dark liquid everywhere, spinning around and continuing to sing, “Ah-ah, child, way you shake that thing, gon’ make you burn, gon’ make you sting —!”

He mimicked an air guitar, rings flashing on his fingers, and as he spun around, Will could see the words on his t-shirt, and the grimacing devil. 

HELLFIRE CLUB.

Will stumbled to a stop. He recognized this boy from the way Lucas, Mike, and Dustin had described him, from the stories they told, from when Dustin had hugged his arms on the back porch one night, staring off at the lake and whispering, I wish you could’ve known him.

Eddie Munson whirled around, and when he caught sight of Will, he stopped singing, but the glint in his eyes remained.

“Well, well.” Eddie grinned, spreading his arms in an overdramatic, swaggering bow. “You must be Zombie Boy.”

Will flinched at the name. “It’s . . . Will.”

“Oh, I know,” Eddie waved a hand, his eyes glittering, but there was no malice in them. “I know all about you, little Byers. From the news, yes, but also because those little friends of yours would not shut up —” He swaggered forward, a slight manic glint in his expression, which, honestly, Will couldn’t blame him for. Will wasn’t even sure how long he’d been in this place (Minutes? Hours?) and for all he knew, Eddie — if this was Eddie — had been alone in here since March. “I mean, especially Mike, weird fuckin’ kid, y’know, always acts like he has a stick up his ass whenever he’s not actively playing a campaign or talking about you —”

Will blinked. He knew about the D&D club, and had been horribly jealous and more than a bit betrayed by Mike breaking their promise not to join a new party, but — “Wh-what?”

“Oh, my God.” Eddie waved his hands, his rings flashing, and Will decided that this guy was definitely off his rocker. “Will this, and Will that, and I’m gonna try calling him after school, but the line’s always fucking busy —”

Eddie might as well have dumped a bucket of cold water onto him. “He — he what?"

“Always complaining, yadda yadda yadda, but hey, you sound cool. I mean, Zombie Boy and all that, pretty sick nickname. Pretty metal.” Eddie grinned at him again and reached out, as if to clap Will’s shoulder. “I gotta say, I thought you’d be —”

Eddie’s hand landed on Will’s shoulder, and suddenly, he went still. The grin slid right off his face, replaced by a look Will couldn’t discern.

“Uh . . . .” Will hesitated. Eddie’s features had gone slack with something like shock, but his eyes were glittering, and his hand remained where it was. “Are . . . you okay?”

That seemed to jolt Eddie out of whatever trance he’d been put in. He quickly let go of Will’s shoulder, glancing from Will to his hand and back again, then said in a different, softer voice, “You’re real.”

The swagger, the bravado, the callous, manic energy had faded. 

“I’m not hallucinating again,” Eddie whispered, staring at Will like he’d dropped down from the moon. “You’re, like, an actual person. You’re stuck here, too, aren’t you?”

Will’s heart pitched. What sort of mind tricks had Vecna been torturing this guy with? 

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re — you’re Eddie, right?”

Eddie nodded, some of that swagger returning, but he looked like some kind of outer shell had fallen away, leaving someone who was just as freaked-out and lonely as Will.

“They —” Will’s voice hitched, and for a moment, he wondered if saying this might not be the best idea, but — “They told me you died.”

“Ha.” Eddie still looked a bit dazed, but a smirk curled across his face. Compared to the one he’d worn just seconds ago, this one was softer, more vulnerable. More real. “They said that about you, too.”

“So — you’ve been here?” Will asked. “This whole time?”

“Wherever here is,” Eddie snorted, spinning around in a lazy circle and gesturing to the emptiness. He stopped, and turned, his brow furrowed as he looked back at Will. “Whaddya mean, ‘this whole time?'” He did a pretty decent imitation of Will’s voice, but behind the bravado, uneasiness crept into his eyes. “How long has it been?”

Will swallowed. He felt like there was a stone working its way up his throat, jagged and heavy as he opened his mouth and said, “Three months.”

“Three months?” Eddie hissed, gaping at the darkness like he was staring into an invisible camera. “Motherfucker! Three goddamn months? Jesus, no wonder I started fucking hallucinating, three goddamn —” He whipped back around to Will. “Are you sure?”

“I mean — it’s June,”

“Oh, my God! ” Eddie groaned, rubbing his eyes, then turned and screamed into the void. “I was gonna graduate, and then I was gonna go to PRIDE in CHICAGO! You BITCH!”

Wait. Hold on. Will’s brain hit pause, and tried to rewind. What?

Eddie wasn’t cooperating. He ripped off his bandana and pitched it at the ground, yelling, “I was gonna drive, for THREE HOURS, get high, get LAID —”

“Uh,” Will’s mouth was dry. He’d heard the word pride thrown around a few times in Lenora, something about those queers taking over the streets, flaunting their lifestyle — “Get what?”

“ — but nooooo, I can’t say no to Steve Harrington and his fucking jawline of steel, and then this creep decides to chew out my insides, and now I’m stuck in goddamn Purgatory —!”

Will’s palms were sweating. He’d never really considered the fact that there were other people like him, people he might know, people his friends might know, because it was always disgusting, impossible, lonely and —

“I HAD TICKETS TO THE ULTIMATE SIN TOUR!"

Eddie’s wail faded into the darkness, and he sank into a crouch, his chest heaving. Will was frozen for a minute, unsure of what to do. When he was pretty certain Eddie wasn’t going to snap and start yelling again, he took a hesitant step closer, and whispered, “Pride?”

Will cringed at his own voice. He hated how stupid and needy he sounded, like a desperate little kid again begging to be loved, confused and dismayed when everything fell apart.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice was raw. He sniffled, his hand coming up to swipe at his face, and it hit Will that he was crying. Eddie looked up at him, eyes red and blotchy, rubbing the heel of his palm against his cheek. “Yeah, I’m a fag.” He hiccupped, and wiggled his wrists in feeble jazz hands. “Supriiiise.” He sniffled again, furiously wiping his eyes. “God. Fuck. I’m great at making friends, as you can see.”

Will sat down next to him, and Eddie stiffened, like he hadn’t been expecting that. 

“I don’t blame you,” Will said quietly, fidgeting with the cuffs of his jeans. “I’m not exactly good at making friends either.”

“Yeah, well.” Eddie clawed his bandanna off the floor, laughing wetly and using it to dry off his face. “I’m sure you’ve never made fun of someone, screamed, cried, and come out all within the first five minutes.”

Will’s lips twitched. “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie snorted. He tucked the bandanna into his jacket pocket and stretched out his legs, taking a shaky breath. “Well, you haven’t run away yet, which is better than my track record for most people. They think I’m some scary, Satan-worshipping cult leader.”

“You’re not scary,” Will said immediately. Eddie gave him a look, and he quickly added, “It’s kinda hard for me to be scared of you , when . . . .” He glanced up at the darkness above them, feeling it like a pit in his stomach. “Anyway, you’re not scary. You’re, like —” He waved a hand vaguely, searching for the feeling that always came up whenever someone talked about Eddie. “ Intimidatingly cool.”

“Huh.” A smile curled across Eddie’s face. “Is that what they say about me?”

Will shrugged. “It’s how Dustin talks about you. I mean — he never said that, not exactly, but he talks about you a lot.” 

Something flickered in Eddie’s expression. “Does he?”

“He misses you,” Will said, softly. “They all do, even Steve. I mean — he won’t admit it, obviously, but he always finds a reason to leave whenever you’re brought up, and no one can find him afterwards.”

Eddie’s voice was quiet, almost inaudible. “Huh.”

“I think that’s his way of processing, I dunno.” Will glanced back down at the cuffs of his jeans, trying not to think about how his friends and family might be processing his ‘death’. Would Jonathan shut himself off like that? Would El?

Would Mike?

“Eddie, are you —” Will’s voice hitched, but he continued on. “Are you dead?”

The young man sighed, chuckling slightly. “That is the question, isn’t it? I mean . . . .” He lifted a hand, studying it as though he expected his flesh to wither away. “I don’t feel dead. My heart’s still beating. I’m still breathing. I don’t get hungry or thirsty here, nor do I need to take a piss, but I guess that’s because we’re not in the physical world, right?” Eddie’s hand dropped, his eyes flickering as he stared at the glossy floor. “The last thing I remember is — talking to Dustin. Then, it all just . . . .” He made a swirling motion with one hand. “Soul leaves my body. Thought I was dying. I’m watching myself from above, thinking wow, yeah, that looks nasty, when suddenly —” Eddie snapped his fingers. “I’m back in. And there’s goddamn tentacles wrapping around my gut. I try to freak out, as anyone would, but then this — this voice starts speaking to me, and next thing I know, I’m here.” He sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair. “I mean, who fuckin’ knows, man? I’d like to be alive, but at the same time, this doesn’t feel like death. It’s Purgatory. At this point, death would be preferable.” Eddie fell silent for a moment, then glanced over at Will, his eyes narrowing as a smirk twitched at his mouth. “Damn, you really aren’t a hallucination, are you? They always go away after that.”

Will gave him a flat look. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“Suit yourself.” Eddie leaned back and laid down on the rippling floor, interlacing his fingers over his chest with a sigh. “I’m just glad to finally be sure I’m not the only crazy bitch down here. No offense.”

Will snorted, smiling to himself. He was glad, too. He had no idea how Eddie was even still some modicum of sane after three months alone in this place. Maybe time passed differently here.

“My friends, they — they said you ran the D&D club,” he said tentatively.

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie grinned, and fondness flickered in his eyes. “Hellfire. Your little friends weren’t atrociously bad, I have to say. Dustin said you did a lot of campaigns.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we did. We — we kind of — stopped, though.” Will swallowed. “You don't think it's —” His voice hitched as he remembered that fight he’d had with Mike years ago: I mean, what did you think, Will? That we were never going to get girlfriends? That we'd just sit in my basement and play games for the rest of our lives?  He swallowed, and forced the word out. “Childish?”

“Childish? Fuck off,” Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes. “Take it from a legal adult, Byers: we’re all still kids on the inside. And, usually, the difference between being cool and being depressed depends on whether or not you take care of that kid.” He shrugged, picking a bit of string off his jeans and flicked it into the void. “At least, that's what I think, but —” He snorted wryly. “I'm not exactly a role model.” 

 Will propped his chin up on his fist, and he understood why his friends missed this guy so much, why Dustin had looked up to him, why Steve clammed up and disappeared at just a mention of Eddie Munson.

I wish you could've known him, Dustin had whispered, that night at the lake. Will thought about how, in the past three months, the Party had ascended to the roles they’d always played, first in games, but now in real life, uniting fact with fiction as they fought to protect their home. He thought about how Dustin had come into his own, more confident than Will had ever seen, planning and strategizing how to defeat monsters with his Hellfire Club shirt on. He thought about how strong and steady Lucas had become, locking in when a situation became dire and picking out threats with sharp eyes and steady aim. He thought about how Mike had picked a sword instead of a gun, and when Murray had squinted and asked if he'd used one before, Mike had paused for a moment before saying, Yeah.

“You're wrong about that,” Will said, smiling softly. “I think you're the best one we could've had.”

That caught Eddie off-guard. His relaxed air vanished for a moment, and he stared at Will, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Eventually, one of his eyebrows raised. “‘We’?”

Will shrugged. “My friends mentioned you sometimes, whenever we were able to call. Although, it wasn’t until just now that —”

He stopped himself. He could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears, strong and refusing to be ignored.

Eddie didn’t. The older boy pushed himself up onto his elbows, studying Will’s expression, probably reading him like an open book. “Now that what?”

Will’s eyes were fixed on the cuffs of his jeans. Even to another person like him, he was still terrified to say it out loud, like doing so would somehow make it real.

But it already was real. 

“That thing you called yourself,” he whispered, his nails picking at the loose strings. “What you said you were . . . my dad used to call me that sometimes.”

Color drained from Eddie’s face. “What? Dude —”

“That’s the thing, though, he was right,” Will blurted, and then it was like an avalanche, everything he’d been holding up for years coming out and crashing his life. “I am. I am one. And, I didn't — I never knew it could be something good. It — it felt good, but it always felt guilty, and — and I've never met — someone like me, before. At least, someone I knew was like me. I hear all these stories about people getting sick or abandoned or attacked or murdered, but I never heard one about you.” Will swallowed down the lump of emotions in his throat. “No one ever told me that someone like me can be — I dunno. Cool. So — so, I didn’t know until just now that you were — like me. But — it’s nice knowing that, um, someone — like me — can be cool, I guess.”

Silence reigned for a moment, and Will wanted to scream.

Then, Eddie’s arm came up and wrapped around his shoulders. 

Will let out a choked sound between a laugh and a sob, instinctively relaxing at the older boy’s touch. Eddie didn’t say anything, and he didn’t have to — when Will stole a glance at his face, he saw that Eddie’s eyes were red and bright with tears. They sat in silence for a moment, and as they leaned against each other, the silence no longer felt so empty. Will felt his breath come more easily, and even though he still wanted to have a panic attack, cry his eyes out, or both, just the simple fact of no longer being alone was enough to stave those off.

He had no idea how Eddie had made it this long. 

“Hey — Will?” the other boy whispered.

“Yeah?” 

“Do you think they'll come for us?” Eddie shifted slightly. “Steve, Dustin, Nancy, and the others? I mean, now that Vecna's got you, too, they might . . . .” 

“They think I’m dead,” Will whispered back, each word sinking into the air like a doomed ship. “I mean, now that El has her powers back, she might be able to sense us, but . . . .” His throat tightened.

He didn't want to hope.

Eddie was quiet for a moment, and then Will blurted, “How'd you do it?”

He stirred. “Do what?”

“Not go crazy here. Alone.”

“Bold of you to assume I'm not already crazy, Byers,” Eddie remarked, and a brief memory almost stole Will’s breath away.

Crazy together.

His eyes burned with tears as he thought of Mike — how in the past few months, they'd been able to forge a new rhythm together, a mixture of new and old, working their way back across the distance that had yawned for over a year. Every day, they'd gotten a bit closer, but at the same time, every day, something seemed to be holding Mike back. They'd share rare moments of vulnerability, stuff they'd done like breathing as kids, but then Mike would suddenly pull back, emotional walls flying up, and Will would be left standing there. Only today had those walls completely vanished, knocked down by fear and grief that now rendered them irrelevant, and now Will would never know why they'd been built in the first place. 

Will had almost forgotten about his question, until Eddie answered it. The other boy took in a low breath that made his chest expand, whistled a few notes, and began to sing.

“There's a lady who’s sure

All that glitters is gold

And she's buying a stairway

To Heaven . . . .”

Eddie's voice was nowhere near angelic, but Will didn't care. He didn't want to see the endless void, and so he closed his eyes, and let Eddie's voice paint pictures in his mind instead.

Before he knew it, he was dozing off with Eddie's arm securely around his shoulders, the other boy still singing so neither of them had to keep listening to the dark.

Chapter Text

When the adults had caved and decided to teach Mike and his friends how to use weapons, Hopper, Joyce, and Karen had fashioned a few target dummies from old pillows and burlap sacks for them to practice on. They were pitched into the ground about fifty feet from the cabin, lumpy bags of feathers and straw with crude frowny faces painted on them, bolted to wooden posts. Usually, they were shot at, but when Mike didn’t have anyone to spar with, he’d use them to practice some of the more complicated maneuvers Murray had tried to teach him. Having both Murray and Hopper as swordplay teachers was interesting, as Murray had apparently studied medieval warfare for some reason, but Hopper was the only one who’d ever actually killed something. As Mike faced the vaguely Demogorgon-shaped dummies, Murray would yell some random words in German while reading out of an old book, and Hopper would shrug and say, I dunno, stab it. For the first time in his life, Mike preferred Hopper. The guy still scared the shit out of him, but he’d gotten considerably nicer ever since Mike and El had broken up. And now that he was training Mike how to kill things, they had a much better basis for interaction than you’re sucking my daughter’s face, get out of my house. It made their conversations almost bearable. 

Hopper might’ve even been proud of the way Mike was currently hacking the straw dummies into sad piles of cloth, but at the moment, Mike really didn’t care. 

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Stupid — selfish — COWARD —

Mike let out a guttural yell as his blade dug into lumpy burlap flesh, and he slashed it out again, sending bits of straw flying along the trajectory of his sword. A fresh wave of hot tears stung his eyes, and Mike’s chest heaved as he stepped away, shifted back to what Murray called vom tag, and went at it again. His arms ached, his lungs burned, his legs shook, and his wounds sent throbbing pain up his limbs, but the more he moved, the less he had to think. Instead of coming in a maelstrom, his thoughts burst forth with each connection of blade to straw, and eventually, the hard wooden post beneath. 

I’ll miss you. I’ll wait there for you.

I love you. 

A ragged sob escaped Mike’s throat as one final blow cracked the post in two. The dummy fell over, and Mike was still for a moment, his sword trembling with the rest of his body as he tried to swallow more tears. 

I love you.

God — this whole time. With just a few scrawled words, Will had ripped Mike’s heart out of his chest, a heart that had always been his to begin with. Mike had thought this couldn’t get any worse, knowing Will was alive but stuck in the Upside-Down again, but he was damn wrong. This was the twist of the knife, the salt in the wound, the horrible, gut-wrenching risks not taken coming back to rip his heart out. There were too many of them: that day at the quarry, those hours in the back of a pizza van, the moment he’d caught sight of Will in the airport in Pasadena and felt his heart shoot into his throat. Mike remembered the birthday gift he’d paid one of Eddie’s friends a stupid amount of money to make, how he’d slipped it into his pocket and carried it all the way to California, and then how he’d chickened out at the last minute. Because really, if Will saw it — if he understood it — well, the jig would be up. Mike had quickly grown paranoid that it wasn’t the kind of gift just friends would give to each other, and so when El had brought up Will’s birthday, Mike had stammered and lied that his present wasn’t ready yet. For the past few months, it had sat in its little parcel on his desk back at home, waiting for a chance that now might never come. 

I should’ve told him. That day at the quarry, I should’ve told him. I should’ve told him about how my whole world ended when I thought he was gone, how I never want to live without him ever again, how I missed him and why I didn’t write, because I —

“Mike?”

He went rigid, squeezing his eyes shut. That voice was unmistakable, and it belonged to one of the last people Mike would be able to talk to right now. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Jonathan asked. His boots crunched on the forest floor as he rushed forward. “You’re going to reopen your wounds —” 

Mike turned to him, and Jonathan went still. Will’s brother looked tired and weary, but as he saw the look on Mike’s face, his features slid into understanding.

“Oh,” Jonathan said softly.

Mike’s knees buckled, and he dropped his sword. He collapsed onto the ground, digging his fingers into the dirt as he choked back a sob. He bit down on his lip, hard enough to taste the salt of his own blood.

Coward.

Slowly, Jonathan approached and knelt down next to him, pulling a roll of bandages out from the bag at his hip. Wordlessly, he checked Mike’s injuries — the bite on his leg, the bleeding gash on his arm, and the shallow slash marks along his neck and cheek — and carefully rewrapped them, applying rubbing alcohol when necessary. Mike barely even felt the sting. 

“That’s gonna scar if you don’t take care of it,” Jonathan said, as he finished pressing a bandage to Mike’s jaw. When Mike glanced up at him, Jonathan’s eyes were soft, for the first time in ages. Mike couldn’t remember the last time Jonathan had looked at him with such warmth — had it been before Lenora? Those eyes flicked towards the left breast pocket of Mike’s flannel, glimmering at the sight of yellow paper. “What’s that?”

“It — it’s from Will,” Mike choked out. One of his hands traveled up towards the letter, shaking as his fingers brushed the wrinkled yellow paper. “He wrote it, before — before he —”

Slowly, Jonathan pulled a folded yellow square out of his own pocket. “He wrote me one, too.”

“Really?” Mike whispered, then wanted to smack himself. Of course Will wrote his brother a letter, too. He probably wrote Joyce one as well, and El, and Hopper, and — “Wh-what about? Did he say . . . why?”

“Yeah. Talked about saving Holly,” Jonathan answered, running his finger along the edge of the paper, and Mike figured that wasn’t all of it. “How about you?”

“Same thing.”

Slowly, Jonathan’s features shifted, and a gentle glint came into his eye. “Anything else?”

Mike opened his mouth, then froze.

Oh.

He knew.

He knew.

Suddenly, Mike couldn’t see past the tears blurring his vision. He tried to take in a breath, to say something to salvage whatever stupid excuse for a conversation this was, when Jonathan wrapped his arms around Mike’s shoulders and pulled him into a fierce hug. 

Mike dissolved. He fell into a sloppy, blubbering mess, crying in a way he hadn’t let himself cry since that night three years ago. He was shaking like a leaf, and his lungs felt like they were turning themselves inside out, but Jonathan held him steady.

“Hey,” Jonathan whispered, squeezing Mike’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” Mike wailed, his voice muffled by Jonathan’s coat. He sounded pitiful, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “I sh–should’ve told him, he w-went thinking I — thinking I didn’t —” He broke off into a strangled gasp, and only managed to suck in a single breath before falling to pieces again. “And it’s all my fault, it’s my fault because I c-couldn’t protect him, I’m a coward, I couldn’t even tell him I — I —”

If Jonathan felt anything adverse, he didn’t show it. If anything, he held Mike tighter, and his chest quivered with what sounded like a faint, astonished laugh of relief. 

“It’s okay,” he repeated. 

“I c-couldn’t protect him,” Mike repeated, wheezing as that horrible truth circled him like a steel cord. He couldn’t get the horrible image of that morning out of his mind, that brief look of panic before hazel eyes went blank, the shuddering breath, blood falling like tears, the limp and horrible stillness. He couldn’t protect Will. He couldn’t protect any of them. He was helpless, useless —

“Mike.” Jonathan pulled away, but still held him tethered to the earth. His eyes were dark and sharp. “Mike, look at me.”

Mike sniffled, wiping his face as Jonathan held his gaze.

“There’s no going back,” he said, his voice solid as the ground beneath them. “What’s past is past, and agonizing about it won’t change anything.”

Mike sucked in a jagged, catching breath. “But — what if this doesn’t work? What if we can’t get to him? What if we’re too late, or Vecna finds out, or —”

“Mike.” Jonathan gripped his shoulders. Mike’s mind was whirling, but Jonathan’s eyes were dark and filled with the same resolve that gripped his own heart. “All —” His voice caught and went slightly ragged, but remained no less strong. “All we can do now is work to do what we couldn’t before.”

Mike sat still. Jonathan’s face was etched with much more worry lines than the average eighteen-year-old, and while Mike had seen him nervous or awkward hundreds of times before, any hint of that was long gone now. Jonathan’s jaw was tense, his eyes sharp and features set with the unflinching, uncompromising determination of a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer, not even from fate itself. 

Mike wiped his eyes, letting out a long, shaky exhale as he tried to draw on some of that strength. 

“Just remember that, okay?” Jonathan gave Mike’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, and Mike realized — Jonathan had to be just as freaked out as Mike was right now. And yet, he wasn’t chastising Mike for being overdramatic, or losing it — he was kneeling in front of him, dark eyes echoing not with pity, but a deep understanding. After a few moments of collecting himself, Mike cleared his throat, and whispered, “Okay.”

“That’s all it is.”

“Yeah.” Mike swallowed. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to believe that yet, but for Jonathan’s sake — for the sake of Will’s brother, this weary-faced guy who was somehow holding it all together right now — he’d give it a shot. After a few more breaths, Mike was able to whisper, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jonathan’s features softened. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, and while it wasn’t exactly true, as he tried to draw breath, he found it a bit easier. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.” Jonathan’s lips twitched. “’Cause Hopper just got back.”

At five minutes to midnight, Lucas’s solution to their transportation problem came into view.

Horses.

“Easy peasy!” Lucas cheered, holding up a boxful of sugar cubes as he leaned his bike against a tree trunk. “They just followed me!”

Mike’s jaw dropped. Lucas had radioed them to let them know he was close, and now all of B-Team was out in front of the cabin to gape at the four honest-to-God horses cantering through the woods up to the cabin. Each was decked out with a bridle and a double-saddle, and each started to nose Lucas for the box of sugar cubes, to which he laughed and began to feed them.

“No way.” Mike looked over at Dustin, unable to suppress his smile. They’d all gone to summer camp together a few years back, and while Lucas had taken to riding horses like a bird to flight, Dustin didn’t trust them one inch. “What did Lucas bribe you with?”

Dustin grimaced. “As much as evolution screwed horses over, they are dextrous enough to go fast while avoiding the vines. They don’t like stepping on roots and shit any more than we do. But if one of them gets spooked, we’re all going to die.”

“Well, that’s auspicious.”

Robin leaned against the porch railing, gawking at Lucas’s equine entourage. “You know stealing these guys could get you, like, shot, right?”

“Eh, it’s the end of the world, who cares about a few borrowed horses?” Lucas called, still grinning, and patted the snout of the palomino mare that was nosing his ear. “I call this one!”

“Oh, ho ho, fuck yeah.” Steve jogged down the porch steps and reached out for the horse in the front, a dark brown mare that eyed him with curiosity. “Hey there, gorgeous.”

“Steve, I don’t think your charm extends to horses,” Robin snorted, but there was a small smile on her face as she watched her friend take the mare’s reins. “Right. We’re on that one?”

“You bet.” Steve was smiling like a kid at the county fair as he took the horse’s reins, then stepped off a tree stump to swing onto its back. 

“Oh my God.” Dustin made a face as Steve settled in the saddle. “Do you also have an uncle in Texas?”

“Why, Henderson? Jealous?” Steve guided the mare over to the porch, clicking his tongue more loudly than he was probably supposed to, and Robin jumped over the railing to get on behind him. She overshot it, and almost fell off the horse, but Steve yanked her back into place at the last minute.

“Oh, God, I can’t believe I have to put my arms around your waist,” she gagged, looking disgusted with herself as she clung to him for dear life. “You smell like Axe body spray.”

He scoffed. “I do not —”

“Okay!” Hopper called, his voice carrying over their bickering. His arms were folded over his chest, but there was something like pride in his expression as he observed the horses. Eleven quickly ran out from the cabin, her eyes wide and shining as she ducked past her dad to look at the animals. “Who else knows how to ride a horse?”

Jonathan and Lucas both put their hands up, and after a second of hesitation, Mike slowly lifted his as well.

Of course, Hopper’s eyes caught on him. “Wheeler?”

“Uh — it’s been a while, but — I rode a horse. A few times. At summer camp.” Mike gulped. “Five years ago.”

Hopper stared at him for a moment longer, then sighed. “Dustin, double up with Lucas. Jonathan, Mike, each of you, grab a horse.”

Mike gaped in surprise for a moment, and then was shocked to action when Jonathan’s shoulder brushed up against his.

“Which one do you want?” he asked, nodding towards the horses. Lucas was eagerly pushing Dustin up onto the back of the palomino, resulting in much swearing and barely restrained laughter from Lucas and Eleven. Next to them was another brown mare, and a dark stallion with a patch of white on its forehead, like a star, or —

Or a heart.

“That one,” Mike croaked. “The black one.”

Jonathan glanced at the horse, then back at Mike, something soft in his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. You need help getting on?”

After a few seconds of awkward half-stammering, Mike conceded, and let Jonathan boost him up into the saddle. As he clambered on, grabbing the reins and swinging his leg over the stallion’s side, he could feel his center of gravity sway. Mike gripped the reins, trying to remember what he’d learned at summer camp all those years ago as he settled into the saddle. Pull to the left, go left. Pull to the right, go right. Kick, go faster. Pull back, stop. He reached out and brushed his hand against the horse’s mane, trying to calm himself down. He could feel the animal breathing, the powerful muscles in its neck, the coarse, short hair of its coat and the longer strands of its mane.

Even though he hadn’t been on a horse since before all this bullshit had started, Mike couldn’t help but feel a little bit comforted by the strange familiarity. It was like when he’d picked up his sword for the first time: obviously, he’d never trained with one before, but he’d grown up with characters in books and movies showing him an idea of how it was done. How many times had he fought with a sword, or ridden a horse in a D&D campaign? He couldn’t count. 

For some reason, that helped him breathe a bit more easily.

“Okay!” Hopper barked, passing Robin a rifle. “Buckley, hook your feet through the stirrups so you can hold this. Sinclair, you have your crossbow?”

“Aye aye, chief!” Lucas called, holding it up. 

“Wheeler, sword?”

He adjusted the scabbard at his waist. “Uh, yup!” 

“Jonathan, how are you on ammo?”

“I’m good,” Jonathan said from atop his horse, checking to make sure his rifle was loaded.

“Okay.” Hopper braced his fingers against his temples, moving in front to address them all at once. “Harrington, you’d better have your shit, because you’ll be going in front. Jonathan, you’ll be in the back. Kids in the middle. Don’t break formation until you get to the house. When you do, at least two of you need to be posted outside on watch. Go in, grab Will, get out. No detours. No heroics. No funny business. We stick to the plan.” His eyes swept over them all, as if to warn them, I’ll be watching. “If you run into any problems, radio us immediately. Use the buddy system. You all have your Walkmans?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Dustin groaned, rubbing his head. “Not to be a pain in the ass, but can we get going already? Every minute we spend here is an extra minute Will’s trapped with God know what —”

“I understand that,” Hopper said through gritted teeth, closing his eyes in the way he did when he was barely restraining himself from yelling at a minor. “But, if you’re going down there, you need to be prepared, and taking this seriously —”

“We are taking this seriously —”

“Mike.”

Mike tore his eyes away from the argument and looked down to see Eleven hovering near the horse’s snout. She held out her hand for it to sniff, and she noticed the heart pattern on the animal’s forehead, a smile tracing across her lips. She reached up and carefully brushed her thumb over the heart on the horse’s forehead. It — he, the horse was a he — let out a soft, rumbling snort. 

“What are you going to call him?” she asked.

“I — I dunno,” Mike admitted. “I haven’t thought about it.”

A furrow appeared between El’s eyebrows. “What did Will paint you as? A . . . pal?”

The painting. 

Now that Mike knew what he knew, everything about that painting, what Will had told him in the van, coupled with the blank look on El’s face when Mike had brought it up in passing, hit him in the chest like a battering ram.

He was trying to tell me then, and I — God, I was so stupid and self-absorbed, I didn’t even realize.

“Paladin,” he answered, his voice barely a croak. 

“Paladin,” Eleven repeated, her features smoothing out. She rubbed the horse’s snout, a soft smile on her face. “That’s a good name.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, feeling as though there had been a belt tightened around his chest, and now it was loosening. El met his gaze, and something about the look in her eyes — serenity, determination, understanding, and a soft, friendly affection — made him wonder.

Does she know, too?

The second the thought entered his head, El raised an eyebrow with a knowing smirk, and Mike’s face flooded red.

“Oh my God,” he groaned quietly, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands and ensure he wouldn’t be heard. “El — listen, I was a huge dick, I — I was scared, I didn’t know what was happening, I thought it would go away —”

“Mike.”

He risked peeking through his fingers, and saw that she was smiling, her eyes bright. There was something bittersweet in her expression, but also relieved. 

“Mike, I know.”

He let out a shaky breath that soon blended into a laugh. “Am I the only one who didn’t?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, glancing over at where Hopper was now briefing Jonathan, Steve, and Robin; then over to Lucas and Dustin, who looked extremely disgruntled. Her eyes returned to Mike, her lips pursed in a suppressed smirk. “Maybe.”

“God,” Mike snorted, and it felt good to laugh with her again. He knew he’d hurt her, and he’d spend a long time making up for it, but it was a long time worth spending. Tentatively, he reached out a hand, his voice pitching as he asked, “We’re still friends, right?”

El pretended to consider it, squinting at him for a full three seconds just to watch him squirm, then smirked and shook his hand. “You are stupid, Mike Wheeler.”

“I know.” Mike grinned, and she smiled back. 

“Okay, form up!” Hopper called, still sounding reluctant, but more worried than anything else.

El let go of Mike’s hand, a fierce sort of confidence creeping into her eyes. “You will get my brother back.”

It wasn’t a question. It was hardly even a command. She knew, just as well as Mike did, that he would either get Will out of there or die trying.

Mike nodded. El nodded back. She gave Paladin one last pat on the nose, then backed away as the members of B-Team guided their horses into formation. Steve and Robin were in front, Lucas and Dustin to their left, Mike next to them, and Jonathan behind. El stood on her tiptoes to pat Jonathan’s horse, and the two of them spoke in hushed tones for a moment before a look of soft affection flickered across Jonathan’s grim face, and he reached over to ruffle El’s curly hair. She laughed, ducking away, and stepped back to stand next to her dad. 

“I want Steve and Robin in front, and Jonathan in the back!” Hopper barked, directing their horses. “Kids in the middle!”

They clumsily steered their horses into formation, hooves crunching against the dirt and sticks of the forest floor. Mike found that as he nudged Paladin to motion, the horse responded easily, as though connected to Mike’s thoughts rather than his reins. 

Even after they were all situated, Hopper continued to pace in front of the uneasy horses, hammering in warnings they’d heard a thousand times before. He only did this when he was nervous. Mike himself felt a restlessness in his gut, fear at the edge of his mind. They were walking into a death trap, and it might not even work, but the knowledge that Will was in that death trap — that there was even the slightest chance of saving him —

Yesterday, Mike had learned what real fear felt like, and a dose of it washed back over him now. He gripped Paladin’s reins, and couldn’t help but be reminded of something else, something he’d read in a book years ago.

Time seemed poised in uncertainty. They were too late. Too late was worse than never. Perhaps Théoden would quail, bow his old head, turn, slink away to hide in the hills.

“Stay out of sight,” Hopper said, for the fifth time. He rubbed his head, and Mike could feel the anxiety pouring off of him. El had told Mike a few months ago: It’s not because he doesn’t trust you. It’s because he doesn’t trust himself to have taught you well enough.“Be smart. Don’t fire your guns unless you have to. Don’t draw attention. Don’t step on any vines, or get noticed by anything, because if you alert one of those bastards, you alert all of them. Stick to the road. Don’t try anything stupid. Be fast, don’t linger —” He was repeating himself, pacing as he tried to convey the stress that shook in his hands, the weight of it all, the strength he wanted to give them, but he couldn’t find the words.

After a moment, Dustin began to murmur them like a prayer.

“Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden —” 

Lucas’s lips twitched in a smile, and he picked up the soft chant.

“— Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter —”

Mike joined in, his throat raw, but his heart steeled.

“Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,

A sword-day — a red day —

Ere the sun rises!

Ride now — ride now!”

Mike could almost hear the horns. His throat tightened, and even after their voices rang through the forest, he added in a whisper, 

“Ride to ruin, 

And the world’s ending.”

Hopper had gone quiet, his mouth hanging open in confusion. El blinked, looking just as bewildered, but grinned and gave the three of them a thumbs-up. Steve and Robin had twisted around to stare at them, but Mike could see how the words resonated, even in Steve.

“Well, shit,” he muttered, his face having gone faintly pale. “That’s not ominous at all.”

“Okay.” Hopper held up his hands and stepped out of the way. “Okay, I get the message. Get out of here.”

Mike glanced at Eleven, and found her looking back at him, chin lifted, dark eyes strong as steel with a kind of confidence that made the hair on his arms stand on end. 

You will get my brother back.

Mike felt his spine straighten. He held her gaze, powerful as it was, and nodded. El nodded back, a smile twitching at her lips.

“Hell yeah.” Steve glanced over his shoulder, a grin on his face before he pulled his bandana over his nose. “C’mon, Riders of Theo, or whatever.”

Steve urged his horse forward, and Mike, Lucas, and Dustin all rolled their eyes, exchanging suppressed smiles, a silent final shout to the battle cry as their own steeds eagerly followed.

They were nerds, but goddammit if it didn’t give them a bit of strength.

Chapter Text

“And she’s buy-ing a stair-wa-ay . . . .” Eddie’s voice softened as he finished the song. “To Heav-en . . . .”

Will managed a smile, and he brought up his hands to clap.

“Shut up, Byers,” Eddie scoffed, his arm dropping from Will’s shoulder as he pretended not to wipe a tear from his cheek. He seemed lighter than he had before, like that song had eased some kind of weight on him.

“Where’d you learn to sing like that?” Will asked, hugging his knees. 

Eddie smirked. “Your boyfriend didn’t tell you?”

Will yelped, his hands flying up to cover his face. “Oh my God! Mike’s not my boyfriend!”

“Shit, Byers, have you told him that?” Eddie cackled, bumping his shoulder against Will’s. “I’m in a band, we’re called Corroded Coffin. ”

Will laughed, grinning. “Metal.”

Eddie’s eyes brightened. “ Exactly! ”

“So, you’re lead singer?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, we all do a bit of the singing, except for Gareth — he’s our drummer, kinda hard to mic up with all that — but I’m front guitarist as well. I’ve got a B.C. Rich Warlock, she’s sick as hell . We painted her and everything, Gareth’s really good at that stuff.”

Will had no idea what a B.C. Rich Warlock was, but the conversation seemed to be distracting Eddie from their situation, and hell, it was distracting Will as well. His heart felt light for the first time in a while. “Dustin said you distracted a bunch of demobats with Master of Puppets. ”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie laughed. “Pretty cool, if I do say so myse—”

Suddenly, the comforting weight against Will’s side vanished.

The air went still.

Will turned, his heart pitching into his throat, but there was no one next to him — just dark, empty air.

“Eddie?”

Nothing.

Panic shot through Will’s bones, and his voice came out strangled as he yelled, “ Eddie! ”

Still nothing. 

The silence pressed in on him like dirt filling a grave, and Will’s chest began to ache. He gasped for air, digging his fingers against the weird, rippling ground as he twisted around, scanning his surroundings, but Eddie was nowhere to be seen. There was nothing but darkness in every direction, as far as the eye could see and yet creeping in on him, a dark curtain that could hide anything, anything. 

Will’s heart pounded in his ears, and he tried to remember what his mom had told him about panic attacks: Your mind blows things out of proportion. It creates things that aren’t there. Just breathe, and things will slow down . 

But he couldn’t slow down. His chest ached with every breath he tried to claw in, because his own wheezing was the only sound he could hear. Eddie — he’d just vanished. Had Vecna taken him? Was he dead now, for real this time? Had Will just imagined him?

Will’s heart pounded against his chest like a hammer. Of course Eddie hadn’t been real. Will’s brain had probably just conjured up the idea of Eddie that his friends had constructed, to give him some kind of comfort in this void. His eyes burned, and he kicked himself. Stupid, stupid . Stupid that he’d think there was someone else like him, someone cool like Eddie. Stupid that he still craved a shoulder to lean on, badly enough to hallucinate it. Stupid that he’d ever been unlucky enough to get taken in the first place, throwing all of his loved ones in danger, stupid that he thought he could stop it, only to get thrown in this fucking purgatory. 

Stupid to think he could change anything at all.

Will’s throat squeezed, and he gasped out a sob. His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, hugging his legs, listening to the sound of his own panicked breathing fill the empty void. 

It was better than nothing.

Will took in another breath, slower this time, as his jaw trembled and he latched onto the first song he could think of.

Something happier.

Something that reminded him of —

“ I . . . .”

His voice echoed in the darkness, meek and shaky. Will had never been much of a singer.

He swallowed his tears and kept going anyway.

“ I wish I could swim . . . .

Like the dolphins,

Like dolphins can swim . . . .”

It didn’t sound like Bowie. It didn’t bring that feeling of flying, freedom, happiness, but it swelled in Will’s chest all the same. His words trembled as he raised his voice, but he kept going, his heart beating steadier, his eyes burning, the words coming easier and easier with each breath. 

“Though nothing . . . can keep us together . . . .

We can beat them, forever and ever . . . .”

He kept stumbling over his words. He was choked by panic and grief, fear creeping in on every inch of his body, but he sucked in another breath and kept going. The song didn’t have that usual feeling it brought, this — 

“I . . . I will be king . . . . ”

Will steeled himself, holding the empty gaze of the void, and imagined someone else looking back.

“ And you — you will be queen. ”

A pale face. Dark eyes. Darker hair.

Something impossible.

Something he was sick of feeling ashamed for wanting. 

Someone he wished he could just see one last time.

“ I . . . !”

Will’s voice cracked and almost broke, but he pushed on. He sucked back his tears, raising his chin to the endless black, and cried,

“I can remember!”

The song wasn’t like how it sounded on the radio. It didn’t bring that same feeling of ease, of flying.

“Standing — standing by the wall —”

It was defiant.

“And the guns —”

Like a boy at the bottom of a well, crying up towards the sky, refusing to lose hope.

“—shot above our heads!”

Will looked the empty blackness in the eye and sucked up what courage he had, to keep himself from falling into it. 

“And we k-kissed —

As though nothing could fall!”

Tears came, and he let them. He thought of his mom, his brother, El, Lucas, Dustin, Hopper, Max, Mike , especially Mike, who loved this song, who’d carried Will through the darkest parts of his life when he couldn’t care for himself. 

“And the sh-shame —”

Will remembered sitting in Jonathan’s car, laughing as Mike sang off-key to the radio, feeling affection and giddiness bubble up in him, and thinking, how the hell could this be wrong?

“The shame was on the other side . . . .”

He remembered running from bullies, hand in hand, whispers of, you’re not a freak — who cares what they think — if we’re both going crazy, then we’ll go crazy together.

“Oh, we can beat them,

Forever and ever . . . .”

A smile traced across Will’s face, even as his voice began to fail.

“And we can be heroes,

Just for one day . . . . ”

The song echoed through the void, ringing long after Will’s breath had run dry. His chest swelled with something like pride, and he sat there for a moment, dizzy, wondering if anyone had heard. He guessed it didn’t matter either way — he’d heard it. 

Then, something seized his chest, and pulled.

Chapter Text

This was the first time they’d done something as stupid as try to go back to the Creel house. Even though it was basically Vecna’s home base, neither them nor the army had tried to breach it yet. Nightmares spilled from it on either side, and more often than not, it was hard enough to get within just fifty feet without being spotted. The A-Team’s distraction would hopefully draw Vecna and his forces away from the house on both sides of reality, but if anyone tripped a vine, every monster within a mile-wide radius would converge onto the house in a maelstrom of teeth and slimy gray flesh. 

Getting the horses to go through the gate that split through a street near the trailer park had been a special circle of Hell. They wouldn’t have been able to if part of the gate hadn’t torn vertically through the nearest tree trunk, nor if Lucas hadn’t had any sugar cubes left. Unsurprisingly, the animals weren’t any calmer on the other side of the rift, but Lucas had been right: they avoided stepping on the vines. They remained severely unnerved by pretty much everything in the Upside-Down, in turn making Dustin more anxious, but Lucas remained cool as a cucumber, encouraging theirs along even as the animal eyed the street like it was covered in shit. None of the horses would go within ten feet of the vine-choked rift that cracked down the center of the road, and Mike could hardly blame them.

As Steve and Robin led them towards the Creel house, their horse picking carefully through the broken street, it became clear that whatever the A-Team was doing, it was working. Usually, trips like these into the Upside-Down, especially this close to the Creel house, were marked by swarms of bats, shadows of demodogs, faint clicking and baying, and echoing groans, like the roar of some distant creature. Now, it had all gone eerily quiet, except for the faint booms from the direction of downtown. 

“Jeez,” Robin remarked softly. She had one hand on her gun as they left the wooded street for the cleared land of the fairground, her eyes flashing as she surveyed their surroundings. White flakes floated in the air and red lightning flashed above, as per usual, but there wasn’t much of anything else. No creatures zipping overhead, no dogs hiding in wait, no bats lingering on walls or telephone poles. The periodic lightening and darkening  of the clouds in the north with every low boom was the only sign of life at all. Silence draped the road like spider silk, hanging over the silhouettes of trees and nice houses, broken only by distant booms and the pop of gunfire from downtown. “Hasn’t been this empty since March.”

“Whatever A-Team’s doing, it’s definitely working,” Dustin said, his eyes tracing the skies. No bats. “I mean —”

An inhuman shriek cut through the air, but it was muddled, far away. The horses all balked, and Mike rested a hand against Paladin’s mane, trying to comfort the stallion even as his own heart pounded. Finally, a loose spray of bats zipped overhead, but none of them seemed to take any notice of the six teenagers and four horses below. They were focused entirely on the source of the bursting light and noise, as the rat-a-tat of gunfire grew more continuous. 

Their walkie-talkies all buzzed with the sound of Murray’s voice, echoed six times over. 

“Fortitude taken. B, go.”

A shaky breath of relief rattled Mike’s chest. That was the green light: Vecna was on the battlefield. He nudged Paladin with his heels, and the horse immediately picked up the pace despite his apprehension towards the vines. Hooves scuffed and clopped against the pavement as the six of them continued onward, until Steve brought them to an abrupt halt not too far from the Creel’s cul-de-sac.

Mike’s stomach swayed along with the movement of his horse. He whipped around, one hand flying to his sword. “What is it?”

“Shh,” Steve hissed. His voice was low, and tense as a wire. Silence reigned for a moment, even for Robin, who looked like she desperately wanted to ask a million questions. After a few seconds, Steve spoke again. “Do you guys hear that?”

Mike was about to snap, Hear what? when the sound of a melody drifted past his ear. It was the kind of melody Jonathan had played all the time in his car when Will and Mike were in fifth grade, and as Mike strained his hearing, he could faintly hear the lyrics.

“There's a feeling I get

When I look to the west

And my spirit is crying for leaving . . . .”

Steve jerked his horse around to face them, causing Robin to yelp and cling to his backpack. His face was white, and his voice held the faintest hint of a tremble as he said, “Am I fucking tripping, or is that —?”

“Led Zeppelin,” Jonathan said from behind them. Mike glanced around, and saw, for the first time in hours, a smile on Jonathan’s face. “We’re close.”

Mike sucked in a breath, and his hand drifted up towards his heart. He was wearing a flannel under his bomber jacket, and in the breast pocket of that flannel, a little cloth pouch sat next to Will’s letter with a quiet, persistent weight. He’d carried it across the country, across California, through gunfire, and now through Hell.

Just a little bit further.

His heart was pounding, his fingers going sweaty on the reins, every breath bated as the six of them forged ahead, faster this time. He scoured the trees and slopes of roofs for that familiar silhouette, and as it came into view, his chest tightened with a mixture of fear and brazen hope.

The Creel house loomed like a sickly tower, sharp edges and angles dark against the flashing red sky. The rift split through the front facade, plunging down like a slash in a curtain, a crack in a fiery volcano. A sinister red glow hung in the broken windows, sickly, peering through half-collapsed walls and peeling paint.

Mike swallowed, his heart in his throat. He thought of Sam — standing in front of Cirith Ungol, the red glare of Mordor all around him, looking up at a black tower swarming with beasts of the Enemy. He thought of the limp body in his arms, the boom of gates closing, the horrible shock of realizing you fool, he isn’t dead, and your heart knew it. Perhaps capture was a fate worse than death, but it still left room for hope — small against the shadow, but bright as a star-glass.

Mike slid off his horse. A dull pain shot up from his ankles as he landed on the pavement, but he barely even noticed it. The rest of the world felt irrelevant as he took Paladin’s reins and pulled the horse forward, his heart pounding, his eyes fixed on that house. Behind him, the rustling of gear and soft thumps of combat boots against pavement signified that his friends were dismounting as well. Mike’s fingers felt numb as he tied Paladin’s reins to the Creel house’s picket fence. It looked more gray than white. 

“Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow? 

And did you know 

Your stairway lies on the whispering wind . . . .”

The singing voice was louder now, almost like it was coming from inside the house. The windows were broken, flashing from the light of the rift and lightning, and the wall to the left of the rift had almost entirely collapsed. From the porch, there was an easy way to get in. Mike started towards it, numb from tunnel vision, until Steve put an arm in front of him. 

“Hey! Hold it there, hotshot, we need a game plan,” Steve hissed, dragging Mike back towards the others. His eyes flicked over the seven of them, all grim-faced with knuckles white on their weapons. He kept his voice low, as if the trees were listening. “Okay. Hop said we need at least two people out on watch.”

Mike felt like he was going to fucking explode. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, but it didn’t stop him from making eye contact with Jonathan and seeing a very similar expression of rash, oh my god fuck it let’s just GO. Jonathan was much better at hiding it, though.

“Robin or Dustin should stay, so we can radio for help,” Jonathan said, keeping his tone even.

Dustin stiffened. “There is no way I’m gonna stay out here and just let you guys run in —”
“Okay, okay!” Robin hissed, gesturing frantically for him to shut up and keep his voice down. “I’ll stay out here!” Her eyes flicked between Steve and Jonathan. “Uh —”
The two young men had a silent, terrifying stare-off: Jonathan’s cool gaze versus Steve’s sharp, but slightly scared expression. Mike vaguely remembered hearing about how the two had gotten in a fight once. He wondered if that had anything to do with the flicker of wariness in Steve’s eyes. 

Finally, Jonathan let out a sigh through his nose. He glanced away. “You go, Steve.”

Steve blinked, his mouth hanging open slightly. “Uh — me?”
“You’re the better fighter,” Jonathan muttered, rubbing the shaft of his spear. His jaw was tight, but as he met Steve’s gaze again, he didn’t look angry. “And Nancy trusts you with the kids. So, I do too.”

Steve looked genuinely shocked, and maybe even a bit touched, but then Mike cleared his throat.

“We’re not kids,” he snapped, glaring at them both. “We’re the same age you were when —”

Across the street, a loud clang heralded the arrival of something large and clumsy. Instantly, all seven of them dropped to a crouch, careful to avoid the legs of the skittish horses. Jonathan risked a peek over the fence, then dropped back down, glancing up at the cracked sky as though he wanted to have a very serious conversation with the man upstairs. 

“Demogorgon,” he whispered, unslinging his rifle. Next to Mike, Lucas muttered a curse. “It hasn’t noticed us yet. Steve, Mike, Lucas, Dustin — you four stay low, and run up to the house. Robin and I will deal with it if it tries anything.”

Robin’s eyes momentarily shot wide, but she gripped her makeshift spear and took a steadying breath. She and Steve shared a silent conversation before Steve nodded, muttering, “Okay.”

“Just remember,” Dustin whispered, because of course Dustin would have the guts. “Don’t use guns unless you absolutely have to. If the horses get scared —”

“They’ll run and then we’re fucked, I know.” Jonathan lifted his spear, his voice a little shaky, but no less fierce. “Go get my brother.”

His tone left no room for debate, even with the tall, lanky figure prowling just fifty or so feet away. Robin still looked a little freaked out, but nodded in agreement, her knuckles white on her own spear. Dustin looked like he wanted to say something more, but then thought better of it. At Jonathan’s signal, the four of them took off towards the rotten front porch, helping each other up while being careful of the rift that split through the front door not four feet away. Once he was up, Mike glanced over his shoulder. The creature was prowling through the playground across the street, still mercifully oblivious. Jonathan and Robin were posted at the fence, spears ready, watching it like hawks.

Steve’s eyes flicked over them all, sharp as the nails on his bat. “Ready?”

“Hell yeah,” Lucas said, priming his crossbow. “How do we find him?”

“I dunno,” Steve muttered, ducking under the crumbled wall that led to what might’ve once been a sitting room. “Follow the music, I guess.”

They filed into the house, weapons drawn, and Mike was immediately reminded of everything his mother had ever said about tetanus and airborne illnesses. The sitting room was soaked with mildew, old couches and rugs turned gray and sickly by the corruption of the Upside-Down. The entryway of the house was dark, lit only by the pulsing red glow of the rift that ripped through the front facade of the house, like a tear in a curtain. Above, a chandelier glinted from the fiery light, and on their side of the crevasse, a deadly-looking staircase climbed up three floors. Vines snaked everywhere, over the floor, up the walls, hanging off the chandelier and coiling in corners like vipers. 

The four of them stood in the sickened room for a moment, breathing shallowly through their bandannas, and for once, feeling grateful for Hopper and Joyce’s strict rules about protective wear in the Upside-Down. 

“Right,” Steve muttered, lifting his bat. “Check the ground floor first, then we go up the stairs.”
Dustin’s voice was muffled against the cloth over his nose and mouth. He’d drawn it up even further. “Should we split up?”

“Hell no. Come on.”

The four of them set off down the dark hallway, checking each room as they passed. The singing voice had faded into soft humming and mimicking of guitar noises, but all of a sudden, it shot to clarity with a new verse.

“And as we wind on down the road

Our shadows taller than our soul

There walks a lady we all kno-ow —”

“This way!” Dustin called, and the four of them rushed down the hall, following the voice as it got louder and louder. They tumbled into a dilapidated kitchen, overgrown with vines that pulsed in a mass in the corner, but now that the voice was louder, almost like someone was in the room with them, Mike’s heart nearly stopped.

“Who shines white light and wants to show —”

The voice didn’t have a clear source. It echoed around them, like sounds from the real world always did in the Upside Down, but now that they were hearing it in full clarity, one thing about it was obvious.

“Guys,” Mike croaked, but the others already knew. 

“That’s not Will’s voice,” Lucas finished. His eyes flashed in the dark, fear flickering in them. “But — he’s here. El said he was here —”

Steve bolted forward, his backpack and bat falling to the floor. He fell to his knees next to the mass of vines, digging through his pack, his face white and his features set in a wild kind of determination. 

“Steve,” Dustin said, worry creeping into his voice. “What the hell are you doing?”

Finally, Steve yanked a lighter and a hunting knife out of his backpack. He glanced over his shoulder at them, his eyes sharp and his features set. “Look at this thing. Vines don’t clump like this. They’re wrapped around something.” 

Hot bile rose up in the back of Mike’s throat, pushed by his chest squeezing in horror. Come to think of it, that mass of vines was the size of a person, and the way it was wrapped — it looked like some sick kind of cocoon. The idea of Will enshrouded in a slimy coffin of vines seized Mike’s brain, and his knees buckled.

“Oh my God.” Dustin’s face had gone similarly white. “Will said that when Hopper and Joyce found him, he was surrounded by vines. If this is like, an advanced stage —”

“But, if someone’s in there, and it’s not Will —” Lucas’s eyes narrowed at the pulsing cocoon. “Who is it?”

The voice rose again, and this time, Mike couldn’t help but think it sounded faintly familiar. 

“And if you listen very hard

The tune will come to you at last —”

Steve flicked the lighter, producing a bright plume of flame. His features were grim and desperate, but as warm light cast over him, Mike recognized an undeniable spark of something else: hope.

“When all are one and one is a-all —”

“Ask me when I get him out.” Steve’s voice trembled slightly, like it had when he’d first heard the song. He held up the lighter. “When I wave this at it, it’s gonna alert Vecna. Let me know when you’ve found Will first. Yell, or radio me, and then we both start at the vines. Cutting, fire, whatever works. Once they’re free, we get the hell out of here, and if you run into anything —”

“ — to be a rock, and not to ro-oll —!”

Lucas held up his crossbow, his features set. “Kill it.”

Steve nodded, and extinguished the lighter. “Kill it, and then alert me, ’cause then the hive mind’ll be activated. As much —” He cleared his throat, glancing away for a moment.
“As much as Nance would kill me for letting you little shits run off on your own, this is the quickest way we can get both Will, and — and whoever’s in here, out.” Steve’s gaze landed back on them. “So don’t do anything stupid.” His eyes flashed briefly with something like pride, and then he waved a hand at them. “Alright, piss off.”

He didn’t have to tell them twice. Mike was already bolting across the dilapidated floorboards, his heart in his throat, structural integrity be damned. Lucas and Dustin were at his heels, and as they blasted into the hallway, he couldn’t help but remember that awful week three years ago. 

We’re coming, Will. We’re coming.

The three of them tore through the remaining rooms on the ground floor, splitting up not being an option that warranted even the dignity of consideration. Nothing jumped out at them, but they didn’t let up their guard for a moment. Once the ground floor was cleared, they crept up the stairs, but were met with the same disappointment.

“Empty, fuck,” Dustin hissed, the beam of their headlamps darting across what might’ve once been a bedroom. His face was pale. “Next room, go, go —”

Mike took point again, his sword leveled and shining in the flickering light of his headlamp. The weight of the weapon was a small comfort as he led his friends across the landing, Dustin at his side with an axe, Lucas covering their backs with his crossbow, the light of their headlamps illuminating small swathes of the vine-infested hallway. Mike’s palms were sweating as he gripped his sword, and then he heard something.

“Eddie?”

Mike froze. Dustin ran into him with a yelp, starting to hiss, “What the hell, man —?” but Mike quickly grabbed his wrist in a silent command to shut up. The three of them stood in the ruined hallway for a moment, and just when Mike was sure he’d hallucinated, he heard it again.

Will’s voice.

“EDDIE!”

Dustin sucked in a rattling breath. The beam of his headlamp shook, and Mike twisted to see that his friend’s face had gone ghostly pale. Behind him, Lucas’s eyes were wide.

“A trap?” Lucas whispered, but he didn’t look convinced.

“I dunno,” Mike breathed back, his heart screaming, please be Will, please, please be Will, please don’t be a trap —

Suddenly, Lucas’s eyes flashed. “Mike, get down!”

Mike whipped around, instinctively raising his sword, and his blade caught a demobat before it could latch onto his face. He yelped as it slid off, gurgling, but it was just the first. 

“Shit! Shit!” The glow of Mike’s headlamp swiped across the hall and — there! “Fuck! Guys, dogs!”

“Shit!” Dustin yelled. The three of them went close together, lifting their weapons. Mike’s heart wrenched as he realized he’d left a Will-sized space between him and Dustin, and he quickly closed it. As two demodogs crashed into the hallway, the three of them slipped into the rhythm they’d been practicing for months. Lucas nailed both dogs with crossbow bolts, stunning them long enough for Mike to lunge forward and hack a gash in one monster’s throat. Dustin was right behind him, sinking his axe into the side of another demodog’s unfurling face, and behind them, Lucas’s crossbow discharged at threats they couldn’t see. Mike ducked as the body of a demobat fell past him, and as he stole a glance at the ceiling, he realized it was covered in the things.

“Fuck!” he yelped, raising his sword. He swung wildly, slashing the bats out of the air as they dropped, and before too long, they’d stumbled out of the swarm, panting and stomping on the last of the twitching bodies.

“Jesus!” Dustin wheezed, bracing a hand over his chest. His eyes were wide behind his goggles, which were now streaked with gray ooze and bat blood.

Lucas reloaded his crossbow, glancing over the two of them. “You guys okay?”

Dustin rubbed the sleeve of his jacket against his goggles. “Only seriously raised my risk of cardiac arrest —”

“HEY!” Steve’s voice rang up from downstairs. Mike glanced over the railing and spotted him looking up at them, his face pale. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah!” Mike shouted back. “They know we’re here, though!”

A muffled yell echoed from outside. Steve whipped around, and his shoulders went rigid as he saw whatever was happening beyond the front door. His eyes were wide as he twisted back to them, yelling over his shoulder, “Go! Go get Will!”

He didn’t need to tell them twice. Mike raised his sword and charged forward, kicking down the door of the next room. Empty. They blasted into the next one, then the next, cutting down bats and dogs as they snapped to attention, until something stopped Dustin dead in his tracks. Lucas plowed into him, his yelp alerting Mike, but the second Mike looked over, he saw what had made Dustin stop.

Above them, a small ceiling light in the shape of a flower was glowing a soft shade of amber. 

“No way,” Dustin whispered. “Not possible, unless —”

The light pulsed, growing brighter if just for a moment, and brought with it the faintest whisper of a sound.

“I . . . !”

Mike sucked in a ragged gasp. His heart stilled, hardly daring to beat for fear of drowning it out.

“I can remember!”

Mike remembered hearing that shaky, soft voice three years ago through the static of a walkie-talkie, but now it was stronger, visceral in its defiant courage, ragged and pouring with some kind of guttural emotion that pulled at Mike’s heartstrings like a guitar.

“Standing — standing by the wall —”

The three of them stared at each other, open-mouthed and frozen, before breaking from the spell and bolting for the hallway. Mike charged in the lead, banking towards the stairs that led up to the attic, knowing he would follow that voice even if it led him off a cliff. With each thump of a foot against the shabby floorboards, the song grew stronger as it echoed down the stairs, clear as day, clear as anything. 

“And the guns — shot above our heads!”

Mike launched himself up the stairs, vines be damned, his throat hoarse as he screamed, “WILL!”

“And we k-kissed —”

His sword shone in front of him as he slashed through the creeping tendrils, Lucas and Dustin right behind him. There was no question about it, only certainty that pounded through him like blood, flowing alongside desperation and wild, wild hope —

“As though nothing could fall!”

Mike slammed his shoulder against the attic door, and it fell away.

“And the sh-shame —”

The three of them tumbled into the attic, momentarily losing their breath at the sight of the place.

“The shame was on the other side . . . .”

It was riddled with vines. There was a charred, gaping hole in the far wall where Nancy had blasted Vecna through it, a gate that pulsed in the floor like an open wound, and beyond it, a glowing red rift that cracked open the earth. Through the broken wall, a swirling black cloud seemed to be getting larger and larger, but Mike barely even noticed it. Will’s voice was clearer now, even as it echoed and faltered. Mike twisted, following it, and his heart stopped.

“Oh, we can beat them . . . .”

There was a mass of vines snaked in the corner, writhing as they slowly wrapped around a body that was just barely visible.

“Forever and ever . . . .”

A sob ripped from Mike’s throat. He stumbled forward, his chest caving in on itself as he stared at the pale hand sticking out from the cocoon. His sword clattered on the floor. 

“And we can be heroes . . . .”

Dustin flew to the cocoon, gripping the pale wrist for a moment before gasping in relief. “He’s got a pulse!”

A pulse.

He has a pulse.

He’s alive.

Without any hesitation, Mike reached out, dug his bare hands into the vines, and pulled. The mass tensed, hissing, but just as quickly, Lucas had whipped out his hunting knife and was carefully cutting the vines away. Mike’s heart ricocheted in his chest as he caught sight of pale skin, a closed eye, and wet brown hair beyond the vines and he plunged his hands into the cocoon, ripping vine after vine away with just his hands, his throat hoarse as he screamed Will’s name, and —

Chapter Text

Eddie thought he was hallucinating again. One minute, he was hanging out with the Byers kid, the next, he was swaddled in what felt like a giant clump of noodles. They were all around him, cold and slimy, and Eddie would’ve wanted to throw up if he hadn’t felt so weak. His stomach felt weird — almost nonexistent, tingly and limbo. He couldn’t tell where his skin ended and the noodles began. 

Then, air rushed against his face.

Cold. It was cold. Eddie wanted to retreat further into the noodles, but as he tried to move, his eyelids fluttered, and he caught sight of . . . something. A bright light was blasting in his face — maybe it only felt like looking directly at God, after being in the dark for so long — but Eddie was pretty damn sure that was a person.

He blinked. The light dimmed, and beyond it was a murky blur, moving over him, frantically peeling the noodles away from his skin. Eddie narrowed his eyes, trying to stop the world from spinning. His lips moved, and when he managed to find air, his voice was a barely audible slur of “. . . Harrington?”  

The blur froze. Then, rough hands grabbed his face, and Eddie heard a familiar voice.

“Holy shit.” It was shocked, hushed and trembling, but unmistakable. “Holy shit — how are you alive?”

Eddie’s eyelids fluttered as warmth seeped into his cheeks, and even though all his muscles dragged downwards, a weak smile traveled across his face. It was the kind of thing he’d barely let himself dream about, for the past . . . however long it had been, but now . . . .

“You came,” Eddie murmured. He couldn’t tell if he was saying it or just thinking it, but all the same, Steve’s touch never wavered. For a moment, Eddie’s vision cleared, and he could see him: wide, hazel-brown eyes, the line of his nose, lips parted with shock. Eddie grinned. “No fuckin’ way.” 

Then, the world faded back into darkness. 

Chapter Text

“ — WILL! ”

Air rushed against Will’s face. His body was numb, like he was waking up from a long sleep, but as he tried to open his eyes, he didn’t see Hopper’s cabin. 

He blinked, slowly. Where . . . ?

There was a strange image floating over him: Lucas and Dustin, decked out with jackets, gloves, and bandannas, crouched over him and moving fast, and between them —

A pale face, curved cheekbones and a distinct nose disappearing under a scarf, and those dark eyes, widening with too many emotions to comprehend.

“He’s awake!” 

Dustin’s voice pierced the fog in Will’s mind, and realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. Oh my God — oh my God, what are they doing here? He tried to talk, to ask what the hell — but there was something in his throat. He choked on it, gagging, but his friends had grabbed the vine and they were pulling it out, like Hopper had three years ago. It finally dislodged, sliding out of his throat, and Will jerked forward, retching and coughing out dark slime. His esophagus burned with it.

Mike threw the vine aside, and then his hands were cupping Will’s face, the tips of his fingers warm and bare. Will shuddered, wanting leaning into Mike’s touch, but there were tight vines all around him, his arms, his chest, his legs, like a cold, slimy cocoon — 

A knife flashed. Dustin and Lucas hacked at the vines, and Will’s shoulders slid loose. Mike’s arms came around him, desperately trying to pull him out of the tangled cocoon, and before he knew it, the vines were falling away. 

Will tumbled forward, and Mike caught him. Will’s limbs felt like noodles, his whole body numb with cold, but as Mike pulled Will into his arms, feeling slowly began to come back to his body.

“Oh my God.” Mike whispered. He was trembling, clutching Will close to his chest, and it was a sensation Will never thought he'd be able to feel again. Mike’s fingers brushed his face. He sounded like he was crying. “Oh my God, Will — ”

Will sucked in oxygen, weakly clutching the fabric of Mike’s jacket as his chest trembled. He was cold, cold in a way that seeped into the core of his bones. His mind reeled for a moment, wondering if this was one of Vecna’s tricks, but —

“You’re okay,” Mike was whispering, his voice ragged as his breath brushed through Will’s hair. “You’re okay, we’ve got you. We found you this time.”

“Y-you —” Will’s jaw trembled, as weak and cold as the rest of him, but his heart was pounding. He lifted his chin and blinked, his breath catching. There was Lucas, and Dustin, too — all decked out for travel into the Upside-Down, their faces, streaked with grime and blood, now awash with joy. “You c-came?”

“Of course we did!” Dustin scoffed, half-laughing, half-crying. His arm circled around Will’s back, and then Lucas was hugging them both, and all of them were wrapped around Will, a knot of warmth and sobbing relief. “Are you crazy? We’ll always come for you, numbskull!”

Will let out a sound between a laugh and a sob, leaning into his friends’ embrace and letting relief crash over him in a wave that shook his bones. He was alive. He was alive, and his friends had come to rescue him.

He wasn’t alone, after all. Maybe he never had been.

Then, Dustin’s walkie-talkie crackled with Steve’s voice. He sounded almost panicked.

“Hey, shitheads! Real fucking quiet up there, are you dead?”

Dustin untangled himself from the knot of their arms and grabbed the device. “No! We’re alive, we got him! What’s the situation down there?”

Their conversation faded to a buzz as Will squeezed his eyes shut, breathing shallowly. Dustin and Lucas were both preparing to move, Will could hear the rattle from Lucas’s box of crossbow bolts, but Mike didn’t budge. He stayed where he was, holding Will close, and Will had the strangest feeling that, for as long as he still trembled, Mike would remain there.

“H-how —” Will licked his lips, trying to speak. He was leaning against Mike’s chest, his head tucked under the other boy’s chin, and even though he was in the Upside-Down, he felt like he was right where he belonged.  “How did you know?”

He didn't have to clarify what. For their whole lives, Mike and Will had always been on the same wavelength, connected in a way that didn’t require spoken words. 

How did you know I was alive?

“I — I didn’t,” Mike’s voice sounded strangled. His fingers dug into Will’s hair, and his grip was rough, but achingly real . “Will — Will, I thought you were gone.”

His voice broke like a heart cracked in two. Will choked on his own breath, and opened his mouth to say something, but Mike plowed on. 

“And — and then I realized you’d planned for it, you knew it was going to happen, and you told me —” Mike jerked away just far enough to cup one hand under Will’s jaw, and Will’s breath caught when he saw the other boy’s face. Mike was a mess. His eyes were red and blotchy, scored by the kinds of shadows that came from lack of sleep and gut-wrenching worry. His cheeks shone with tear tracks, and the wound he’d gotten from fighting the demodogs — the one that stretched down his face and neck, that had nearly stopped Will’s heart — was hastily wrapped with a mixture of Band-Aids and medical tape. His dark hair was stringy and frizzy, tied up in a haphazard ponytail that let loose curls tumble down. His eyes, red and bright and dark and blazing through Will’s soul, held no walls as he whispered, “In what fucking universe do you think I’d be okay without you?”

Will couldn’t breathe. 

Had Mike seen the letter?

Obviously not, if he had, he wouldn’t be talking like this — this kind of in-between talk, where Will’s mind almost fooled itself. It was the kind of thing Sam would say to Frodo — given, with less swearing — that sent Will’s mind spinning into impossibility. His breath caught, and he wanted to say something — what, he didn’t know, but —

“Hey.” Lucas squeezed Will’s shoulder, sending a light jolt through his body. His brow was furrowed. “Can you walk?”

“I —” Will drew in another raggedy breath. He could barely feel his legs, much less use them. “I — I d-don’t —”

“We’ve gotta get him warmed up,” Dustin said, clipping his walkie-talkie back to his belt. “Look at him, his lips are blue. Mike, unzip your jacket.”

He did so, and suddenly Will’s head was resting against the fabric of Mike’s shirt, his body enveloped in the other boy’s heat. He could feel Mike’s heartbeat, a pounding ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump, and it was like a balm on Will’s soul, even as his own heart raced into the stratosphere. Had Mike seen the letter? Did he know? Probably not. Hopefully not. Oh, God, Will was going to have to somehow get to Mike’s sleeping bag before he did to grab it, which wouldn’t be awkward at all. He suppressed a giggle, suddenly gripped by a rush of delirious relief. He didn’t think he’d be alive to worry about things like this. His brain felt like it was being put through a salad spinner, but he was alive.

“Here.” Mike pulled off his red scarf and carefully wrapped it around Will’s nose and mouth, his fingers brushing Will’s cheeks. There was a scuffling noise, a soft shink as Mike picked up his sword and sheathed it, and then he was lifting Will’s arm over his head. Will’s elbow hung around Mike’s neck, and Mike tucked Will into his jacket as best he could, one arm around Will’s waist and the other gripping his hand. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “I’m gonna stand up — lean on me, alright?”

As the floor grew further away, Will wondered if he was dreaming. The fingers of his free hand curled feebly in Mike’s jacket and hung there, trying to keep that flap of it over his shoulder. He could still hear Mike’s heartbeat, a bit faster now, and even though his knees were like jelly, Mike managed to hold him up. Will’s feet scuffed against the floorboards as they stumbled towards the door, Lucas in front of them with his crossbow drawn, Dustin behind with his axe. 

Then, the ground dropped out from underneath him.

Will let out a cry of alarm, and before he knew it, he was throwing his weight against Mike as best he could, desperately trying to push him away from whatever hole had opened in the floor, even if Will fell through, he wouldn’t drag Mike with him —

“It’s just the stairs,” Mike was saying, breathless and ragged. He swayed back slightly, and even though Will had tried to let go of him, Mike held on tight. He sounded like he was crying again. “It’s just the stairs, Will, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s okay, you’re safe —”

Will sucked in a breath as his feet scrabbled for and found solid ground again, his heart pounding through his chest. He clung to Mike, the only solid thing in the world right now, and his cheeks burned. The four of them made their way down the stairs, blood circulation slowly returning to Will’s legs. As they got to the landing, Dustin took point, and Lucas held up the rear; and then they started down towards the ground floor. The whole place was overgrown with vines, but at this point, they were prioritizing speed over detection. That being said, they all froze just halfway down the stairs when Steve burst from the kitchen. In front of Will, Dustin lost his footing on the stairs. He slipped down a few steps, but just as quickly, his feet hit the rotted boards of the ground floor and he stood there, rigid with shock.

In Steve’s arms was Eddie, looking nothing like how he’d appeared in the void. His white skin hung over his bones, sunken into the gaunt contours of his body. His jacket and shirt were torn where the bats had ripped into it, and over his sides were coated in a gelatinous, shiny gray goo. He looked like he might’ve been a corpse, if not for the faint, shaky rise and fall of his chest.

“Is —” Dustin breathed, his eyes wide. “Is that —?”

“Yeah!” Steve practically yelled, clinging to Eddie for dear life, his face pale and sweaty.

“How —?”

“Battery,” Will croaked. Next to him, Mike stiffened. “We . . . were in the Void. Together. Vecna used us as . . . batteries.”

Dustin went pale. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Eddie, his chest quivering rapidly. He was frozen.

“He needs a fucking hospital, okay?” Steve’s voice pitched with verging panic. Will hadn’t seen him like this in years, if ever at all. “I don’t know how long this gray shit is gonna hold, so Henderson, get your ass down here and help me!”

When Will had gotten back from California, Eddie had already been gone. Steve had seemed relatively alright, perhaps even the closest out of all of them to how he’d been before the ground had split open, but Will hadn’t seen him in a while. It only made sense that he hadn’t noticed the way Steve had built up a wall in his eyes, at least, not until that wall had been reduced to dust. 

Hope shone in him, clearer than before, bright enough to bring steadiness to Dustin’s hands.

Dustin staggered forward, then practically tripped over himself to get to Eddie’s side. He threw Eddie’s other arm over his shoulders and together, he and Steve dragged Eddie towards the sitting room, and the collapsed wall that was their way out.

Mike’s grip tightened on Will’s waist, and it felt so good, so right , it was torture. Will kept his eyes on Eddie as Mike helped him the rest of the way down the stairs, trying desperately not to think about how tightly Mike was holding onto him, like he was terrified of anything else happening. How many times had Will wanted this, in the past few months? To be this close to Mike? To breathe in the smell of him, as familiar and comforting as old books and colored pencils; for their bodies to fit together like puzzle pieces again, to lean on him and just listen to his voice? And then — 

In what fucking universe do you think I’d be okay without you?

Will let out a ragged breath, and allowed his eyes to flutter shut for a brief moment. He let himself lean into Mike’s touch, relaxing even as his heart beat a shaky pattern. He couldn’t dare to hope, but at the same time, he was too weak to deny himself anything right now.

Soon, they stumbled through the torn wall of the kitchen and out onto the porch, an odd three-legged race where one contestant could barely walk and another was legally dead. Will was getting a bit of his motor function back, but only enough to not actively hinder Mike as they stumbled through the foyer, then through the crumbled wall onto the porch, and down what remained of the front yard.

In the street in front of the Creel house, Jonathan was trying to help Robin yank a spear out of the corpse of a demogorgon. Will’s knees buckled with relief at the sight of his brother, alive and relatively well-looking, and then he looked up at the sky.

A maelstrom of demobats was tearing towards them, maybe ten minutes away, blotting out flashing red lightning.

“Oh my God,” Dustin breathed. “Oh, that is not good —”

“It’ll be worse if we hang around, come on!” Steve snapped. “Hey! Jonathan! Robin! Get the horses, let’s go!”

“Yeah, no shit!” Robin yelled. She managed to yank her spear out, stumbling backwards from the momentum. Her face was pale, and her denim jacket was ripped in several areas. She opened her mouth to say something, but then her eyes went wide. “Holy fuck, is that Eddie?"

Will was now staring at the horses. He couldn’t quite believe his eyes. There were four of them, hastily tied to the front fence of the Creel house, flicking tails and ears nervously and looking very unamused at their current situation. His mouth had actually fallen open in shock, and he whispered, “Are those . . . ?”

“Yeah,” said Lucas, smiling. “They were the best option, to move fast and avoid the vines at the same time —” 

Will stared at Dustin. “You . . . let him put you on a horse?”

Lucas and Mike snorted with barely suppressed laughter as Dustin rolled his eyes, helping Steve get Eddie down through the front yard without going near the rift. “Shut up, shut up —”

“Will!”

Will looked up, and his limbs turned to jelly again.

Jonathan was racing towards him, white-faced, and by the time he’d scooped Will off his feet, Will was already a sobbing mess. 

“It’s okay,” Jonathan choked out, hugging Will tight. His voice was quiet and raw, constricted by tears and overflowing with emotion. “It’s okay, we’ve got you. We’ve got you, buddy, you’re okay. You’re okay, oh, my God —”

Will let out a ragged wail into his brother’s jacket, everything from the past few days, months, years coming out in a single muffled scream that left his throat even more scraped and raw than it already was. Relief overwhelmed him like an end to drowning. He was alive. He’d survived this. He’d survived.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Jonathan’s grip tightened. His voice was shaking with relief, but also panic — they weren’t out of the woods yet. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me? I’m serious, Will.”

“I’m s-sorry —” Will’s voice was almost unintelligible, and he tried to drag in a few ragged breaths. It felt easier now. “Is M-Mom —?”

Jonathan sniffled. “She’s gonna ground you until you’re fifty,”

Will let out a strangled laugh that soon turned into a sob of relief. God. She was, wasn’t she? He hardly even cared. He was too relieved. 

Will’s feet touched the ground again, but he didn’t have to put much weight on them. Jonathan was holding him up, shifting Will’s arm over his shoulders. “You’re not hurt?”

“No.” Will glanced over at his brother. Jonathan looked like he’d aged ten years, but when their eyes met, the lines slid off his face like water. “Just . . . a bit weak. I think I can almost — walk on my own again —”

“Oh, don’t even try,” his brother snorted, and helped him forward.

Will’s blood was pumping with adrenaline by now, and so he was able to stagger along as Jonathan held him up. Mike and Lucas had run ahead to the fence to untie their horses, a palomino and a black stallion. Next to them, Robin was gripping the reins of a dark brown mare, her spear strapped to her back, clicking her walkie-talkie and repeating A-Team, we’ve got him, do you copy?  By some miracle, Steve and Dustin had been able to get Eddie up onto Steve’s horse, their jackets together to rig a harness that would keep the two young men attached to one another. Steve kicked off away from the fence once the knots were tight enough, cantering out onto the street with Eddie slumped against his back like a sleepy koala. 

“D’you have your camera?” Will murmured, nodding to the two of them as Jonathan helped him over to the bannister. Mike and Lucas were both untying the reins to their horses while Dustin stood holding his axe, watching the house with wary eyes.

“Wish I did,” Jonathan snorted, a smile twitching as he caught sight of Cowboy Steve and his damsel in distress. He lowered his voice. “Okay, listen — you’re gonna go with Mike, alright? Robin and I are gonna have our guns out, and worst case scenario, we need you guys to be able to get out of here.”

“You’re —” Will’s heart stuttered at the implication. “Jonathan, you’re coming with us.”

His brother nodded, almost dismissively. “I know. I’m just saying —”

“No.” Will held his gaze, his throat tightening. For his whole life, Jonathan had been the one to look out for him when their mother wasn’t around, sacrificing a normal teenage life to make sure Will got dinner every night and even putting himself between Will and their father if things got bad.  

Will wasn’t going to let Jonathan die for him, too.

“We’re getting out of here together,” he said. His voice shook, but his tone left no room for debate. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

Jonathan’s mouth twisted, his eyes glimmering with tears like he was holding back a sob. Eventually, he squeezed Will’s shoulder, and let out a raw laugh. “You’re still going on Mike’s horse.”

Will snorted, sharing a look with his brother. They both knew that wasn’t the thing he had a problem with, and Will was starting to suspect if Jonathan had done this on purpose — which was an interesting development, as for the past three months, Will’s older brother had generally behaved like he was plotting Mike’s murder. 

A yelp cut through the air, but it was just Dustin almost falling off of his and Lucas’s horse as he tried to get on. Without missing a beat, Robin reached out and pushed him back into place, still repeating her message. “Hello? Hi? Are you guys dead? We’re not! We’re getting the hell out of dodge, it would be nice to know if there’s something in our way —!”

Mike led his horse over to the bannister, stepped up, and swung on in one fluid motion. He glanced over at Will and Jonathan, his bangs falling loosely over his face, his hair swaying in the steadily increasing wind. His sword glinted at his belt, and even though he was dressed in a scuffed-up ensemble of a bomber jacket, backpack, dark jeans, and combat boots, he looked like a knight. 

Not a knight, Will reminded himself, feeling his cheeks go warm as, despite where they were, happiness bubbled up in his chest. A paladin.

Suddenly, Will realized Jonathan was saying something. He blinked, tearing his gaze away from Mike. “Huh?”

His brother gave him one of those half-smiling knowing looks, and Will knew his face had to be fully red now. “I said, do you think you can get up?”

“Right. Uh —” The bannister was more of a wood block, thank God, but Will wasn’t sure if his legs would take his weight just yet. Leaning against Jonathan, he braced his foot against the top of it. “I think, maybe if you push me, and then —” He looked back at Mike. “If you pull me up —”

“Yeah.” Mike nodded, glancing briefly at Robin, who was still trying to get a response, but nodded in silent confirmation that she’d spot Will to make sure he wouldn’t wipe out. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Jonathan eased Will up onto the block, supporting him as Mike caught his arm. Mike pulled Will upward with a strength that took his breath right out of his body, and before he knew it, he had one leg over the horse and an arm around Mike’s waist.

Will briefly short-circuited, but he had the peace of mind to appreciate that at least Mike is still wearing his backpack, at least I’m not leaning directly against him, before he spasmed and tried to pull his arm away — but Mike caught his wrist.

“Dude, hang on,” Mike laughed, his voice low as he gently placed Will’s arms around his waist. He turned his head slightly, and Will could see the faint smile on his face, and the teary glimmer in his eyes. “You’re not getting away from me again.”

Will leaned against the bulky canvas of Mike’s backpack as the horse began to move, and tried desperately not to focus on where his hands were. He made the horrible mistake of making eye contact with Robin, who for some reason, saw his panicked, flushed face and lit up like a Christmas tree on fire. Will tensed. Robin’s jaw was hanging open in a shocked, holy-shit-I-knew-it grin, and Will felt a brief bolt of panic before he realized: that look wasn’t one of abhorrence. It was one of recognition. 

Something unfurled in Will’s chest, warm and soft and fragile but growing ever larger.  

I’m really not alone, am I?

The walkie-talkie burst with static, and Robin jumped. About ten feet away, Steve and Lucas were poised at the ready, keeping their horses moving to expel nervous energy, but sticking close. As Jonathan got onto his horse, a response finally came.

"Robin? Is that you? Over — ”

“Yes! Hi! About goddamn time!” Robin yelled into her walkie-talkie as she scrambled onto the bannister, planting her free hand on Jonathan’s shoulder and swinging one leg over the horse. “We’ve got Will, plus a bonus, and now we’re getting the fuck out of here! Over!”

The walkie erupted with a cacophony of noise — voices, shouted questions, the screech of a bat — and then Murray’s voice cut through it.

“Okay, fantastic! Not fantastic: One knows what we’re up to! ”

“Yeah, no shit!” Robin squeaked. She clung to Jonathan, looking very much as though she wanted a jacket-harness of their own as Mike and Jonathan led their horses out into the street to join up with the others. The rift, which cut through the road, looked like the rifts always did, but . . . .

Will gulped, grateful that Mike’s scarf covered the back of his neck. “Murray’s right. He’s waiting.”

Will could feel Mike’s muscles tense. He, Steve, Lucas, and Jonathan guided their horses into a formation, with Steve and Eddie at the front, Lucas, Dustin, Mike, and Will in the middle, and Jonathan and Robin in the back.

Murray continued. “ — make for the road gate, that’s the clearest — ”

“Road gate, got it!” Robin yelled, clipping her walkie-talkie to her jacket and trading her pistol for Jonathan’s rifle so he could have one hand on the reins. Their horse shifted nervously, tossing back its head. 

“Alright, listen up!” Steve shouted. He craned his neck around Eddie’s slumped form to look at them all. “Everyone, eyes peeled, weapons out, reasonable speed, stick to formation —”

“ — and you’ve got a whole load of bastards headed your way, we’re trying to slow them down, but — ”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he quickly nodded. “Okay, never mind about the speed, let’s get the fuck out of here! Go!"

No sooner had the word left Steve’s mouth than the horses bolted forward, hooves thundering against the road, relieved to finally be in motion at the kick of their riders. Will yelped and tightened his grip on Mike as inertia and the bouncing nearly threw him off, and the street flew into a blur. At the sound of his alarm, Mike rigid, and he actually took a hand off the reins  —

His fingers tangled in Will’s. Tight, then relaxing almost immediately along with his shoulders, as though he’d been checking to make sure Will was still there.

“I’m fine, idiot!” Will yelled, but his heart was racing almost as fast as the horses. His cheeks were warm with the giddiness of it — his arms around Mike’s waist, the two of them riding on horseback like a fantasy novel, Will’s head almost resting on Mike’s shoulder. “Take the reins!”

Mike’s body shook, and the wind carried the sound of his laugh as they blasted through the vine-covered neighborhood. The speed, the sound of hoofbeats, the feeling of Mike under his hands — it was exhilarating. The scarf slipped off of Will’s nose, falling down to his chin, but the air of the Upside-Down felt fresh for once. In front of them, Steve was riding with his headlamp illuminating their surroundings, gun drawn, an unconscious Eddie secured behind him. Next to them, Lucas was ecstatic at going at such a breakneck speed, beaming even as Dustin clung to him for dear life. Behind them, Will knew Jonathan and Robin were bringing up the rear, guns out, eyes peeled, sweeping their surroundings as the neighborhood blew by. Mike’s fingers slipped away from his. 

Will’s eyes drifted shut for a brief moment, and for the first time in months, his heart felt light as air. He still couldn’t quite believe it — his friends had done all of this for him. They’d risked certain death, stormed the Creel house, yanked him and Eddie from Vecna’s prison, and now, against all odds, they were riding home free on horseback . They hadn’t let go. They hadn’t given up. Will choked on a sob, leaning against Mike and tightening his grip around the other boy’s waist. When the question of why continued to ring in his mind, the answer came loud and clear, in Dustin’s voice.

We’ll always come for you, numbskull.

Ever since he’d been pulled out of the Upside-Down and possessed by the Mind Flayer, Will had always felt like he wasn’t worth all of this. What was so special about him that everyone kept risking their lives for? The answer was stupid, really, because Will knew he’d do the same for any of them. He already had, and it had never even been a question. 

We don’t leave anyone behind.

The rushing air against Will’s face slowed, growing more and more rancid. His eyes snapped open, and sure enough, they were slowing down.  

“Mike?” he asked, looking up. “Why are we —?”

A stone lodged itself in his throat.

All of the horses had slowed to a canter. They clumped up, ears and tails flicking nervously, their riders shooting wide-eyed looks at one another as they moved into a tighter, more defensive formation. They’d gotten to the fairgrounds. If they cut through, they’d be at the road gate within less than a minute, but now that proved impossible.

A giant gray lump the size of a small hill had settled itself in the center of the sickened field, efficiently blocking the way. Its mottled surface slowly rose and contracted, catching the flickering red light of the approaching thunderstorm. 

“What is that?” Mike whispered, fear edging into his voice. 

“No idea,” Steve muttered. His horse was tossing its head nervously, and Steve’s knuckles were white on the reins. Behind him, Eddie hadn’t moved. Somehow, he looked even sicker than before, his face turning a waxen, sallow color. Steve glanced behind them at the swarm of bats, now less than a few minutes away. “Let’s not find out. We’ll take the road around —”

The lump moved.

All of them went stock-still, afraid to make even the smallest sound. The horses were rigid, spooked halfway to hell, and Will knew that even the slightest provocation would send them bolting. Bolting, however, would be a horrible idea — because whatever that thing was, it was waking up.

It moved slowly, at first. A tail uncurled from the back — no, three, it seemed to have multiple tails, all wound together — then limbs stretched out, thick and clawed like a dinosaur’s. It stretched, its body shaking with a quivering growl as three long necks undulated and swung into view, each thicker than a tree trunk and ending in unfurling, sharp-toothed mouths.

“Oh my God,” Dustin breathed. His face was white. “Thessalhydra.”

“What do we do?” Robin hissed, sounding similarly panicked. 

“It — it hasn’t noticed us yet,” Jonathan asserted, his voice low. “Let’s keep it that way. If we move slow enough —”

A horse stepped forward, and the monster tensed. Everyone went dead silent, and dread settled upon them all like a lead blanket. 

Will could almost hear Vecna laughing: Did you really think it was going to be that easy?

In front of him, Mike let out a shaky breath. Will hadn’t moved his arms from the other boy’s waist, and he wasn’t about to — strange as it was, the feeling of Mike so close was the one thing keeping him grounded. 

Then Mike turned, and he and Will were nose-to-nose.

Will stopped breathing. They were so close, he could count every single freckle on Mike’s face, and even as his heart pounded with panic, the world seemed to slow.

“Take these for a minute?” Mike whispered, his breath brushing against Will’s lips. He pushed something into Will’s right hand — the reins. 

Will blinked, momentarily stunned as Mike wrapped Will’s fingers around the leather straps. Mike's hands were warm, calloused from sword fighting, rough and gentle, and utterly distracting. Will opened his mouth to ask why, but found himself stumbling over his own words, and completely out of breath when Mike met his eyes again.

“Hey.” Mike’s eyebrows were creased upwards, his eyes soft and shimmering, and even as death loomed, his mouth quivered in a faint, bittersweet smile. “I love you.”

Will’s heart skidded to a halt. 

“Wh —” The air around him was thin, hot from Mike’s breath and the color blooming in the other boy’s cheeks, and Will couldn’t get enough of it. His heart slowly started to beat again, picking up speed and going faster and faster until he couldn’t think straight. “What?"

In one flowing motion, Mike slipped off the horse and out of Will's arms. Will spasmed as Mike’s warmth retreated, the chill of the world attacking him, but then Mike was reaching up at taking Will’s free hand, tangling their fingers together. Will's breath shuddered. His heart was beating against his ribs like a caged bird, and his mind kept replaying those words, over and over again. What — what did that —

Mike lifted Will’s hand, and gently, so light it could've been air, ghosted his lips across Will’s knuckles.

Will stopped breathing.

“You said I’m the Party’s heart.” Mike brushed his thumb over the spot where his lips had just been, gazing up at Will and smiling in a soft, sorrowful way. “You’re mine.”

Will let out a sound that was somewhere between a wheeze and a squeak. What the hell was going on? Was he hallucinating? Had Vecna taken him again? No, no — he could feel all of this, it was real, too real, even as Mike reached into his jacket pocket, Will could feel air rushing against his face —

Mike held onto Will’s hand, but in his other, he now gripped a revolver. Will’s mind was still whirling, he was well and thoroughly disoriented, but even the feeling of Mike’s fingers tangled in his couldn’t distract him from that. They couldn’t fire guns right now, not with the horses so freaked out and the monster so close, it would —

“Mike —” It clicked, and Will’s whole body went cold. “MIKE!”

The boy he loved lifted the revolver towards the broken sky, tears in his eyes, and fired.

Chapter Text

Mike’s fingers ripped away, leaving Will clutching at cold, empty air as all four horses bolted forward. They’d already been spooked, what with the monster bearing down on them, and now gunfire at such close range proved to be the last straw. Mike’s horse jumped straight to a gallop, stealing all the air from Will’s lungs as he almost fell off. Wind roared in his ears, along with snatches of his friends’ panicked shouts. Will’s fingers were still closed around the reins where Mike had left them, and the leather dug into his hand as he twisted around, swaying dangerously.

Mike was running at the creature alone, sword drawn. 

Will didn’t even have to think about what he did next. He threw the reins away, and then he was falling, landing on his shoulder and tumbling through the broken ground. He lay there for a moment, stunned by the impact, then sucked in a breath, got his hands underneath him, and pushed himself up. Pain throbbed through his left arm, and his palms were scraped and bleeding, but Will staggered to his feet.

He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t have any weapons except for the handgun in his jacket and the knife at his belt. He didn’t stop to think, because right now, he didn't need to. 

He began to run. 

The world passed by him in a blur, irrelevant, everything irrelevant except for the hulking monster and the boy facing it down. Mike charged at the thessalhydra and feinted at the last minute, sliding out of the way of one of its three enormous heads. His blade bit into the monster’s neck and it screeched, teeth reaching for Mike just as he ducked under its belly. He cut at the monster’s limbs, but it was trampling backwards, tails thrashing, and Mike just barely dodged a leg the size of a tree trunk as it stamped into the ground. He ducked out from under the creature, bringing his sword up, his eyes wild —

“MIKE!” Will screamed. 

Mike jerked, and one of the thessalhydra’s maws snapped shut where he’d been just a moment before. He swung his sword back up, and oily black blood sprayed forth. Will was fumbling for his gun as he ran — he wasn’t too far away now — when the thessalhydra whipped around, and its tail caught Mike square in the back.

Will screamed, but he could only watch as Mike pitched face-first onto hard pavement. The monster let out a twisted cry of victory, curling around and raising its necks high to survey what lay before it.

Mike. Crumpled. Blood under him, pooling.

Will didn’t know how he got there so fast. One second, he was running, the next, he’d thrown himself between Mike and the monster, hands out, yelling himself hoarse. His limbs shook as the monster’s breath hit him, a wave of humidity that reeked of carrion, and it bore down on him like a mountain. Its three heads lowered, winding, flaring open to display hundreds of teeth, gyrating in a grating, clawing roar that blew Will’s hair back and shook the ground.

Time slowed down. 

Will could feel the chill of the air, the breath in his lungs, the beat of his heart as it pounded in his throat. Ahead, three mouths flared open, hissing whirlpools of teeth. The ground shook with each colossal step forward, but Will remained where he was. An odd feeling swept over him — similar to the serenity he’d felt before he’d thought he would die, but different. He didn’t feel fear this time, or even relief — only cool, focused rage. 

Vecna had stalked him for years, ruling his life with terror, and for what?

You have such talent, and yet, you don’t even know how to use it.

Will reached into that dark corner of his mind, the one the Mind Flayer had latched onto, where Vecna’s touch lingered like frostbite. It was where he’d stored the memories of what had happened that week three years ago, locked up and shoved away where it couldn’t hurt him anymore. Things beyond just darkness and cold: teeth, blood, a creeping voice, the sound of his own screams, and a pull in his gut that he hadn’t understood, not until he’d met El.

Darkness. Cold. Mom’s voice, high and panicked. Light under my fingers. A scream.

A curtain hung over it now, like smoke coming from a wildfire. It choked Will to get too close.

A scream. Blood. Light under my fingers. Pain.

He didn’t like venturing there. A fear cold as ice had always driven him off, but now Will grit his teeth and pushed past it. 

Blood. Pain. 

His eyes burned, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed something back there, something shrouded by the acrid curtain of smoke, something —

Light under my fingers.

He wrenched it aside.

Something exploded behind Will’s eyes. For a moment, the world was a blinding wash of spots and dizziness — his head was fuzzy, he didn’t know which way was up — until his hearing came back, and there was a guttural scream echoing in his ears. It took him a moment to realize it was his . 

Will’s vision cleared, and he saw his own hand, stretched out like he’d seen El do a million times before. He gasped for air — his throat was hoarse, his head ached, something wet was dripping from his nose, he looked up — 

In front of him, the thessalhydra was writhing, a furious ball of limbs and teeth; but unable to move a step further. It strained as if against invisible ropes, its mouths unfolded in a screech of rage, but as Will’s fingers twitched, the roars went jagged into half-hearted squeaks. 

Will blinked, his own breath ragged in his throat. 

Holy shit.

Then, the world swayed. Will’s vision blurred, his knees buckling as though he’d ran a marathon, and the monster thrashed against its bounds. Will was just barely able to keep hold, trembling under its massive weight, his heels digging into the ground as it bore down on him. 

Mike, Will thought, his heart pounding, even as his muscles screamed in protest. I have to protect Mike. He fought through the dizziness, holding onto that thought like a lifeline, a shining bottle of starlight, those few whispered words that changed everything and yet nothing at all.

It had always been the two of them. 

Will wrenched his hand to the side, and the thessalhydra went flying. It crashed straight into the forest across the road, snapping tree trunks like toothpicks, disappearing under the weight of jagged splinters and broken branches. When Will let go, his whole body went light as a feather. He didn’t notice he’d lost his balance until he was on his hands and knees, watching a stream of blood soak dribble onto the pavement. His mind whirled.

Mike.

Will jolted into motion. Dizziness crashed over him, and so he clawed his way to Mike, the world dipping and swaying until everything pitched.

Mike lay crumpled on his side, one eye closed, the other side of his face turned into the pavement. That was where the blood was pooling from, soaking his hair, his jacket, the road, expanding fast, so fast —

“Mike,” Will croaked, shaking like an earthquake as he gripped his friend’s shoulder.

Mike didn’t move.

Cold terror crashed over him. Will’s throat constricted, strangled by some invisible force as his fingers ghosted across Mike’s cheek.  No. No, no, this can’t be happening, this isn’t happening —  

A roar cut through the air, punctuated by the crashing of something enormous barrelling through the woods. 

“Mike.” Will’s voice broke, quivering on the edge of a desperate sob. “Mike, you’ve gotta get up. We need to go. We need to get out of here, come on, it’s coming back, we need to —”

His words twisted into a guttural scream.

He’d tilted Mike’s head to the side, and the wound that awaited him there would be burned into his memory forever. 

Blood — broken — caved in — so much blood —

“No,” Will breathed, his voice hoarse, his fingers red and quivering as the world slid away and his worst fear threatened to strangle him. “No, no, no—!” 

He choked on a sob and yanked the scarf from his neck, the scarf Mike had given him, and gently lifted the other boy’s head, cradling the injury. Will didn’t know what else to do. His fingers flitted to Mike’s neck and he almost passed out from relief when he felt a pulse there — rapid, weakening, but still there.  

Another roar. The ground shook. Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw movement from the broken woods, and then the thessalhydra burst out onto the street. It was battered, moving strangely, cuts oozing all across its body; but when it caught on Will and Mike, it screeched with newfound rage. The sound ripped through the dark, broken landscape, raising the hair on the back of Will’s neck, stilling the breath in his throat. His arms trembled around Mike, and even as the monster began to barrel towards them, he didn’t move. He was not leaving Mike. Not again. 

The ground shook with each footfall, and the monster screeched, its necks undulating like snakes as its mouths unfurled. 

Hot tears burned in Will’s eyes, and he gritted his teeth. He scrounged back into that corner of his mind, now wide open and spilling everywhere, and felt his fingers buzz. If he went down, he’d go down fighting. Vecna wouldn’t take him quietly, no — if Will had to go, then he’d go kicking and clawing and leaving scars to remember him by. He wouldn’t let this end the way it had begun.

And, as it turned out, neither would anyone else.

Somewhere in the distance, a faint rumble sounded — almost like the wheels of a car. The monster balked in its charge, long necks swaying as it glanced around for the source of the noise, but the one direction it didn’t look was up.  

Will felt it like a pull on his heartstrings. He looked towards the sky to see a white streak dropping down like a falling star, a clear, bright shout of the Eagles! The Eagles have come!

Will’s sister landed between him and the monster, and the earth might as well have split. With a scream of rage, she thrust out a hand just as Will had done, and rose from bent knees to stop the thessalhydra in its tracks. It slammed against an invisible wall, screeching in confusion, but El didn’t let it stay like that for long. Her hand clenched into a fist, and the creature squealed, its necks shooting together as though invisible fists were clenched around them. From behind its hulking mass, a faint rumble became audible along with shouts, familiar cries —

Hooves slammed against the ground, and a cavalry of horses curved around the thessalhydra’s flank. The horses’ eyes were wide, as though they were very uncomfortable with what was currently going on, but their riders were unrelenting. Jonathan was in the lead, rifle poised, and bursts of dark blood erupted from the monster’s side as he, Robin, and Lucas unloaded a hail of projectiles. Behind them was Steve, Eddie still secured to him, dragging Mike’s horse by the reins and coming at full gallop towards Will as the others circled the thessalhydra.

Will let out a gasping sob, weakly clutching Mike to his chest. His head swam. He couldn’t believe this was happening, any of this — 

The monster screeched angrily. It twisted around, snapping at the horses, and stood for a second more — until a lit firework thrown by Robin exploded against its side. 

The smell of burnt flesh pierced the air. The thessalhydra let out an unearthly scream, and finally, finally recoiled. Eleven took the chance. With a howl of rage, she thrust both arms forward, and the creature went barreling like a house-sized cannonball towards the woods. It disappeared under a shower of splintered tree trunks. After a few tense breaths, a ragged groan echoed from its direction, and treetops began to sway further and further away as the monster retreated.

El gasped for breath, her hands falling to her sides. Her chest was heaving, but when she turned around and saw Mike, she froze like a statue. Behind her, Steve was coming into closer view, his face draining of color — Lucas and Dustin would soon see how bad it was —

El let out a choked cry and she skidded towards Will and Mike, falling to her knees. All the rage had drained from her face. Her eyes were wide, her hands shaking uselessly as she gasped, “No, no, no, no —”

Will’s own breath strangled him. Every inch of him shook as he cradled Mike in his arms, desperately wiping away at the blood that kept coming. All he could do was look at his sister and choke out, “I — I d-don’t know what to do, it hit him and — he won’t wake up —”

El’s string of no, no, no, pitched higher until it turned into a scream of something else.

“DAD! MOM!”

Will dissolved into full-blown, gasping, heaving sobs. His back bent as he clutched Mike in his arms, blubbering uselessly, begging for Mike to wake up, to open his eyes, to move, do anything —

Rubber screeched. Thick tires of an off-road vehicle ripped through the dirt not too far away, and then several pairs of combat boots pounded against the ground. Nancy’s gasp cut through the air, Murray was shouting something — Lucas and Dustin’s voices rose high with panic as they tumbled off their horse — a shadow dipped over Will and El, a familiar gruff voice —

“Kiddo, c’mon. Let go.”

A strangled gasp left Will’s throat. His arms were frozen around Mike, as though he could hold him in this world by sheer force of will.

Then, another voice —

“Will. Baby, let go of him.” Joyce’s words shook, but her hand on Will’s shoulder was steady. “We need to get him in the car, there’s a whole horde behind us —”
Will’s limbs spasmed. His grip loosened just enough for Hopper to scoop Mike into his arms, and then Mike was gone, spirited away, the only bit of him that remained being the blood. 

Will was cold. Cold, cold, every inch of his limbs —

Arms came around him.

“It’s okay. Sweetheart, it’s okay.”

Mom.

He broke down.

Chapter Text

The lights wouldn’t stop flickering.

Hopper and El had taken Mike and Eddie ahead in the first Jeep and blasted straight through the road gate, breaking every law of traffic and common sense alike to get to the hospital. The rest of them were close behind on their horses and in another off-road vehicle, while the military continued their assault on the Upside-Down. 

“Yeah, they’re having fun,” Murray said, taking a swig of what was probably vodka as he swerved to run over a demodog on their way to the gate. Nancy sat shotgun, white-faced and holding on for dear life — Will in the backseat with his mother and Jonathan, trying to breathe despite what felt like nails in his lungs. The car rumbled over the monster, and Will’s stomach lurched. 

That’s when the car’s headlights had begun to wink on and off. Murray smacked the dashboard and called the thing a piece of shit, but the flickering had continued. It followed them all throughout Hawkins as they got back to the right side of the world, lampposts flaring in the early morning darkness as they passed and winking out almost immediately.

It made Will sick to his stomach. 

The second the car stopped at the hospital, he bolted out. The parking lot was full with military vehicles, soldiers injured from the attack, and so ducking under the arms of nurses was an easy feat. Nancy, Jonathan, and Joyce ran after him — Joyce calling his name, begging him to slow down, but Will couldn’t think. His mind was a blur. He crashed into the waiting room of the emergency center, stumbling as nurses and paramedics flowed like a river with men on stretchers, his eyes skimming over each one — no, no, no, no sign of Mike. Not even Eddie. Will’s throat began to constrict with panic, and instinctively, he reached out with his mind.

Where are you??

Suddenly, Will jerked. Something had caught his attention — though what, he didn’t quite know. It was like he’d seen a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, like someone waving, but — 

Elevator. Third floor. Go now. 

It sounded so much like Eleven’s voice, Will didn’t even stop to question it. He ran for the elevator and slipped in just before the doors closed, finding himself in there with a few harried-looking people in scrubs.

“Christ,” one of them muttered, her eyes wide as she stared at a piece of paper in her hands. She didn’t seem to notice Will. “We’ve got intestinal surgery in OR four, a young man with foreign matter stuck to his — oh, God. Oh my God. Holy shit, how are we —” Her voice cracked with panic, and Will realized she couldn’t have been much older than Steve. “How are we gonna deal with that?”

“Somehow. You’re gonna do it somehow,” the woman behind her said, giving her a sharp, grounding glare. “The fucking world’s split open. Anything’s possible.”

“I don’t know about that,” said the young man next to her, chewing on his lip. His face was pale as he looked at his own piece of paper. “I’m in OR three. Not looking much better.”

“Hold on, give me that.” The woman behind him plucked the paper from his hands. Her jaw dropped. “Holy fuck. Did this kid take a brick to the eye?”

Will let out a sound between a squeak and a wheeze. The surgeons looked up, and seemed to realize he was there. The sharp-eyed woman’s face immediately changed, briefly flashing oh fuck before smoothing back over into slightly irritated concern.

“What are you doing here?” was the first thing out of her mouth. Then, her eyes narrowed. “Jesus, kid, when was the last time you slept?”

“Is — is — is he going to be okay?” Will asked. His voice sounded raw. Above him, the elevator light began to flicker. 

The other two surgeons glanced anxiously up at the lights, but the sharp-eyed woman stayed focused on Will. “Is he a friend of yours?” 

Friend. Will’s eyes filled with tears and he nodded, letting them roll down his cheeks, not fucking caring anymore what anyone thought. Friend. Yes, Mike was his friend, in a way where two souls knew each other so wholly, inside and out, there and back again, with an invisible line connecting them despite miles and words unspoken. Reconnecting with Mike after all these months had felt like finding a piece of himself again, and now —

“Listen,” the woman said. Her hair was dark, curly, and as the elevator passed the second floor, she reached up to tie it into a bun. Her eyes never left Will’s, even as the elevator light plunged them in and out of darkness. “I’m not going to lie to you. It doesn’t look good.”

Will’s heart pitched off the edge of a cliff.

“But,” the woman continued, and her steely gaze was like a rope catching him, yanking at his midsection. “Right now, he’s alive. And me and a bunch of other eggheads are gonna bust our asses to try and keep him that way. That’s all you need to know right now. Got it?”

Her hands dropped back to her sides. She was thin in the face, and weary-looking, but her eyes were sharp as sword points. 

Will sucked in air, and nodded. 

The elevator doors flew open. Will flattened himself against the wall as the surgeons blew past him, practically running down the hall. Will drew in another breath, and stepped out.

The hallway was white, and lined with doors. It flashed bright and scorching in Will’s eyes after the darkness of the Upside-Down, but he stayed focused on the flash of that woman’s dark hair as she and her colleagues disappeared through the door at the hall’s end. Will’s feet slipped on the linoleum, but soon, he was running too, faster, the hall swallowing him up as the door grew closer, he reached out for it —

A waiting room.

The place beyond looked like any other waiting room. Chairs, carpet, pictures of flowers on the walls, a tired-looking woman at a reception desk. Next to her, there was another door that lay slightly ajar as a wisp of dark hair disappeared through it. Numbly, Will started towards it, his heart pounding in his ears, the lights flickering and buzzing above, his mind swirling with nothing tangible except for the thought that he had to get to Mike, he had to —

A hand caught on his elbow, and Will stopped. 

“Will,” said a voice, just as strained as his, but oddly grounding. “Breathe.”

He let out a choked breath and stumbled backwards. Eleven held him steady, her pale face flashing in his vision. Her face was still streaked with monster blood, and she had a cut above her left eye that had been hastily patched up with a butterfly stitch, but her eyes were as anchoring as ever. Will lasted only a second before everything came spilling out.

“It’s my fault,” he spat, choking on the words. “It’s my fault — he came back for me, he said —” Something invisible strangled him, and he gasped, unable to stop, but unable to keep going. He floundered in this sea of electrified panic, reality dragging down his limbs like dark water, it was all he could do to keep his head above —

Eleven’s voice trembled. “Will —”

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, and found himself unable to look her in the eye. How could he? How could he, after all these treacherous thoughts, the months he was supposed to be supporting her, the sadness he should’ve felt rather than glee when she and Mike ended things — and the rush of bright possibility, disbelief yet heart-rising inability to deny reality when he’d said those words, those words that made Will’s insides melt and turned his tongue to lead — and then it had all disappeared. 

One chance. One glimmering, impossible moment where Will dared to hope, to believe — and then it all crumbled in his hands. 

This is what happens when I try to be happy. This is what happens. I’m alone, alone, sick, a monster, I ruin everything I touch, everything —

Will didn’t know the difference between what he was thinking and what he was saying anymore. He had the feeling El could hear all of it. He curled in on himself, his fingers digging into his scalp as he tried desperately to explain —

“I’m s-sorry,” he blurted, his voice half a wheeze. “I d-don’t know what to do, I — I’m sorry, El, I’m so sorry, I c-can’t help him, I can’t help anyone, I — I don’t know what’s happening to me —”

“Will —”

“I just feel like —” Will’s breath was jagged in his throat, scraping like broken glass. “I — I ruin everything I touch, everything just falls apart, and I — I’ve lied to you, and I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry —”

Eleven gripped his shoulders and made him look at her. Her dark eyes were hard, and strong as stone. “Will, I know.”

Her tone snapped him out of his spiral. For a moment, Will looked at his sister. Her face, thin and pale, was so much like his. Her dark eyes reflected back at him a hollowness that coexisted with hope, gut-wrenching fear, power and yet such fragility — and Will remembered.

He was standing across from maybe the only person in the world who could possibly understand what he was feeling right now. 

Before Will knew it, he was in his sister’s arms, and crying his eyes out for what had to be the millionth time that evening.

Eddie’s surgery finished before Mike’s. Will didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified, but by the time a nurse came out to tell him and everyone else who’d camped out in the waiting room that Eddie was now in recovery, they were all too exhausted to feel anything much more than gratitude. Will’s friends had ridden hard through the road gate, and apparently tied the horses up in the parking lot to the confusion of multiple paramedics before running into the hospital. Steve had practically bowled down the waiting room door and demanded an update on both the surgeries, Robin clinging to his elbow in a feeble attempt to hold him back from charging to the OR himself, while Lucas and Dustin had made a beeline straight for Will. Jonathan and Joyce had caught up to him a while before, and along with Hopper, they relayed what information they could. 

The medical terminology was white noise in Will’s ears. He sat on the floor, hugging his legs, focusing on the lint-colored carpet in an attempt to get the lights to stop flickering. He’d found that if he grounded himself in some kind of way, his agitation would stop bleeding into the electricity. The second he thought about Mike or Eddie, his heart would jump into his throat, and the fluorescents above his head would flare brighter than streetlamps. The news that Eddie would survive had alleviated the tension in him significantly, but there was still Mike.

Mike.  

Alone on a cold table not forty feet away, fighting for his life. 

Will buried his face in his arms as the light above him went out for good. He was trembling, and he could shake the feeling that it was all his fault.

After Eddie got out of surgery, Dustin, Lucas, and El dragged Will down the hall to go visit him. A nurse tried to shoo them away, but El simply held a finger to her lips, and they snuck into the pale, dark room without much more hindrance. 

Eddie didn’t look much better than he had in the Upside-Down, but at least the gray slime was gone. His face had been cleaned, his hair brushed, and he slept like a baby on the thin hospital mattress. An IV protruded from his arm, and on the wall, a heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm. 

Seeing him alive, and back in the real world, made the tightness around Will’s chest ease a little. 

Then, the nurses managed to track him down. They’d insisted on doing a full check-up, and Will had acquiesced, seeing his mother’s worried face over one of the nurse’s shoulders. After about an hour of being poked and prodded, they’d deemed him to be alright, if malnourished and slightly iron-deficient, and advised him to get something to eat. His friends had dragged him down to the hospital cafeteria — he didn’t admit it out loud, but getting up and walking around seemed to be helping — and after loading up plates with subpar food, and seeing Erica bust through the hospital’s front doors with her hair in a bonnet and a walkie-talkie in hand, they loaded up into the elevator and rode back up to the waiting room. 

Nothing had changed.

Erica updated them on what was going on with the military. Despite the fact that the hospital lobby had essentially been turned into a triage center, morale was quite high. Apparently, the Marines were having the time of their lives playing what was essentially real-life Space Invaders, and would keep going at it until they were told to stop. 

“All of those crayon-eating boneheads have watched Aliens like, a million times,” Erica said, eating a cookie she’d made Lucas buy for her. She rolled her eyes. “I heard two of them outside comparing kill counts.”

Lucas yawned, scraping up the last of his mashed potatoes. “How many?”

His sister snorted. “Four dogs before he nearly got his leg ripped off.”

“Hah.” Dustin smirked weakly. “Wimps.”

The lot of them ended up crashing right in the waiting room, sprawled out on chairs, their jackets, and a few crappy hospital pillows the nurses had been able to spare. Dustin and Erica were out pretty quickly. Jonathan and Nancy had long since passed out, Nancy in Jonathan’s arms as the two of them leaned against the wall. Joyce was outside having a smoke, and Hopper and Steve were with her. Lucas had gone off to sit with Max, who was in a ward on the floor above them. Robin, unable to sleep and unwilling to smoke, was rereading a book in Eddie’ ward.

Will sat with his back against the wall, his eyes fixed on the door the nurse had come out of when Eddie’s surgery had finished. They’d dimmed the lights in the waiting room, as pretty much every occupant was passed out, but Will remained awake, his heart beating like a drum.

His skin itched — so badly, he almost wanted to claw it off. His limbs, despite being dragged down by exhaustion, buzzed with the need to do something — something.

He could still feel the ghost of Mike’s lips on his hand. 

Will squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back against the wall, tears running down his cheeks. Mike had been hit in the head. If he survived — would he even remember? 

Will knew in an instant he’d pay that price. He’d give it up, the way his heart had raced in that moment, the bright lure of possibility, if it meant Mike would open his eyes again. If it meant a nurse would walk through that door, and give him good news. He’d give it all up, and he knew it.

But he didn’t want to.

Will choked on a gasp, and buried his head in his hands. The fatal words were a chorus in his head, my fault, my fault, my fault —

“Hey, dude.”

Will jumped, but it was just Lucas. He let out a shaky breath, quickly swiping at his tears. “H-How’s Max?”

“The same.” Lucas’s eyes flickered in the faint light, and he sat down next to Will. “How are you?”

Will let out a wry, strangled laugh, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He gestured uselessly to himself. “Good thing the lights are down. I think I’d blow half of them.”

Lucas’s lips twitched in a grin. “So you do have powers.”

When the others had ran into the waiting room earlier, they’d freaked out at the sight of the flickering lights — only for El to tell them not to worry, it was just Will. Dustin’s jaw had dropped, but he and the others had managed to hold themselves back from asking questions, deterred by Will’s clearly fragile mental state — until now.

Will smirked, and shrugged.

“No way.” Lucas laughed, his face lighting up. “Dude — did it like, kick in, while you were fighting that thing? Is that why it looked so fucked up?”

“Yeah.” Will felt himself smile — it had been pretty cool. “It was like a — I dunno. Fight-or-flight moment. I mean, I think I’ve done it before, but . . . .” He glanced down at his hands — pale, bare, scraped and scuffed. Normal. And yet, he’d beat back a monster that weighed more than an elephant. Those distant memories from three years ago were resurfacing, making themselves clear, and Will took a shaking breath. “I think — I think it first happened in the Upside-Down, actually. When I first got taken. I remember . . . feeling the energy in the wires. I dunno. I think that’s how I was able to mess with the electricity and the lights and stuff so easily. I touched things, and they would just — light up. Or if I was having a panic attack, things around me would react on their own. I haven’t been able to make it happen, though, not until —” He blinked hard as the monster’s breath swept back over him. “Until now.”

“Will —”

“It’s my fault,” he whispered, and his voice came out strangled.

Lucas’s eyes widened. “Will, no —”

“You don’t understand,” Will choked out. “He never would’ve put himself in that kind of danger if —”

“Will.” Lucas’s eyes flashed, and he gripped Will’s shoulder. “I know how it feels to have someone you love get hurt, okay? I know how your brain starts to go in these directions — you need something to blame, and the easiest thing is always yourself. Believe me, I —” His voice hitched. “I blame myself for what happened to Max.” Will opened his mouth to argue, but Lucas cut him off. “I tell myself I should’ve been faster, I should’ve been stronger, I should’ve — whatever. But the thing is, it doesn’t matter.” His breath shuddered, and he held Will’s gaze. “What’s done is done. Blame won’t make you feel better.”

“B-but —” Will felt a sob fighting its way up his throat, and he tried in vain to stop it. He was going in circles, he knew it, but part of him needed the rhythm, needed the — “If I hadn’t been taken in the first place, if I — if he didn’t —”

Lucas pulled him into a hug. Will melted, shaking and sobbing, but Lucas held him steady, unwilling to let him crumble alone.

“It’s my fault,” Will choked out, his voice muffled by his friend’s jacket. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault —”
“No.” Lucas’s voice was somehow strong and gentle at the same time. His grip tightened on Will’s shoulders, as if to prevent him from being blown astray in the storm of his mind. “It’s not your fault, Will. Mike made the choice to distract that thing. It was a stupid choice, but it was his. Not mine, not yours, his.” Lucas huffed. “The bastard’s too damn noble for his own good.”

Will laughed weakly. He sniffled, and leaned against Lucas as he tried to catch his breath, following the steady rhythm of his friend’s heartbeat.

“Get some sleep, man, okay?” Lucas said, once Will’s breathing had become steadier. He pulled away, and squeezed Will’s shoulder. “You look like you need it.”

“Yeah.” Will’s voice was raw, but he managed a soft laugh. Lucas was right — his bones felt like they were made of lead. “Yeah, I do.”

He managed to get some sleep. He tossed and turned for the majority of it, keeping his ears pricked for the sound of a door opening, but nothing came. His eyes flew open at random intervals, the memory of a nightmare chasing him, but he could never remember exactly what it was. When he was finally about to doze off, the door crashed open.

Lucas’s tired groan met it first. Will bolted up, half asleep, and then became so dizzy he fell right back down. Dustin was hissing something at whoever had come in, and Robin’s voice met him.

“Hey — sorry —” Robin just barely caught the door before it hit her in the face. “I said sorry, El, Jesus — where’s your babysitter?”

“Steve?” Dustin asked blearily. “Said something about needing a smoke, uh . . . .” He glanced towards the clock on the wall. “Three hours ago.”

“Fucking hell.”

“What d’you want him for, anyway?”

“Well —” Her voice took on a devious turn. “I was gonna come and find you goblins after him, but if you’re too tired —”

“Too tired for what?” There was a rustle, and Erica propped herself up on her elbows. She still looked terrifying in her red satin bonnet and pink sleep mask, which she pulled up so she could glare at Robin.

Robin, however, remained undaunted. Her eyes were alight as she said, “Eddie’s awake.”

Chapter Text

Will heard the wheezing cry of “Henderson!” before they even reached the door.

Eddie was sitting up and laughing, and even though he looked akin to a living skeleton, Will couldn’t imagine him doing anything else. Dustin stood in the doorway for a heartbeat before stumbling inside and carefully hugging him.

“Hey, man. Hey.” Eddie’s skin was milk-pale, almost translucent, but he beamed and squeezed Dustin back as hard as he could manage. He was hooked up to all sorts of sensors, beeping machines, and wires; and he was far too thin, but he was alive. 

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” Dustin choked out, his face buried in Eddie’s hospital gown. “This is crazy. This is batshit crazy.”

“Aw, ye of little faith,” Eddie scoffed. He saw Will, and a smile broke across his face. “Hey, Byers. How about this, huh?”

Will couldn’t help smiling, even laughing a bit, tension leaving him as he slumped down in a chair next to Eddie’s hospital bed. He swiped at his eyes, blinking hard as he chuckled, “Good to see you in the real world, for once.”

“You too, little man.” Eddie ruffled Dustin’s hair before giving him an affectionate shove. “Henderson, you’re crowding my wires. Lady Applesauce!”

“Apple jack,” Erica corrected, her arms crossed, but she was smiling. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“As am I, as am I,” Eddie said, stretching his arms out in a bow. His tattoos shone stark against his white skin. His eyes caught on Lucas, who was coming through the door with a bottle of orange liquid, and went still as a dog at the sight of a treat. “Is that Gatorade?”

“Oh — yeah.” Lucas held it out to him. “The nurses said —”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Eddie snatched it out of the air. “Thank you. Thank you for this boon, Lord Lucas —” He fumbled with the cap for a few seconds, eventually using his teeth to unscrew it before chugging half the bottle.

“Jesus!” Dustin grabbed it, laughing. “You’ll burst your intestines, you lunatic —”

“Gimme a break, Dustin, I haven’t had Gatorade in three months,” Eddie groaned, making pathetic grabby hands at the bottle. When Dustin didn’t give it back, Eddie sighed and slumped back onto his pillows. “Rude.”

“Um — hi!” said Eleven, poking her head in through the doorway after Lucas. She smiled awkwardly, waving to Eddie. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh — that’s Eleven,” Dustin said, pointing to her. “We call her El.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raised. “Superpower girl? You’re real?”

“She’s, uh —” Will swallowed. He should probably bring it up at some point, and the sooner, he guessed, the better. “She’s not the only one, either.”

The room went dead quiet. All eyes shot to Will. 

Dustin’s brow furrowed. “Uh . . . what do you mean?”

“Uh. So.” Will cleared his throat. The lights were flickering again. “When that thing charged at me, I kind of . . . pushed it?”

They all continued to stare at him.

“Oh, for —” El sighed, and darted around Lucas to sit next to Will. She pointed to the fluorescent light above them. “Focus on it.”

Will felt stupid, especially with everyone’s eyes on him, but he squinted up at it. It was still flickering slightly. “Yeah?”

“Now, put your agitation into it.”

“What?”

“Just do it. Trust me.”

Will felt baffled, but he looked up at the flickering fluorescent bulbs.

When is he going to wake up?

The thought hit him like a punch to the chest, and the light darkened momentarily. Once he started breathing again, though, that restless energy returned — the itch to do something, anything — and so did the flickering. Popping and flaring, like the lightning under Will’s skin.

“Uh, no offense,” Eddie said. “But I think you all might need to get your heads —”

Will narrowed his eyes at the light, and it flared to the steady, concentrated power of a car’s high beams.

“Woah!” Dustin actually leapt up onto his chair, beaming. “Will! Will, are you serious —?”

“Hm?” Will glanced at Dustin, and then the light over his head nearly fucking exploded. Will let out a sound like a squeak and his concentration broke, but Dustin started laughing, glancing from the almost blown-out light to him and back again.

“No way!” Dustin crowed. “Dude, this is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me —”

“No wonder you were able to survive for so long,” Lucas mused, his eyes widening. Next to him, Erica was openly gaping. “Holy —”

“What the fuck?” Eddie yelled, his voice raspy but his eyes bright as stars. “What the — what the — that is the coolest shit —”

“El can do way more than that,” Dustin laughed, glancing at her. “She flipped a truck once.”

Eleven screwed up her face. “I’ve done cooler things than that.”

“Yeah,” Will agreed. “She brought down a helicopter when we were in Nevada.”

“You what?”

“Will threw the monster across the street,” El countered.

Dustin’s eyes grew wider. “You did WHAT?”

“Okay — slow down. Slow down.” Eddie held up his hands, staring at Will and his sister. “What — what? What exactly can you two do?”

“I can move things,” Eleven said immediately. “I can spy on people. And I can get inside people’s heads.”

Eddie looked at Will.

“I mean — I only realized I had them, like, yesterday.” The second the word came out of Will’s mouth, it felt strange. Yesterday? Had it only been yesterday? Or, really — this morning? Just a few hours ago? “I mean, other than the lights, I guess I can move things. Maybe.”

Eddie snatched the Gatorade bottle from Dustin and held it up, his eyes glinting. “Take it from me.”

“Uh —” Will felt stupid again, but he stretched a hand out towards the bottle. 

Nothing happened.

“Try not,” Eddie said, grinning. “Do or do not. There is no try.”

“Thanks, Master Yoda,” Will muttered. He pictured strings attached to each of his fingers, connected to that bottle like a puppet. That little dark corner in the back of his mind — the one he’d thought Vecna lurked in — was wide open, flowing back and mixing with the rest of his mind again. He could feel it under his skin, humming in his veins as he reached out, and flexed his fingers.

The bottle jolted in Eddie’s hand. He let out a laughing yelp, quickly clutching the Gatorade to his chest with both hands. “Byers! You’ve been holding out on me!”

“Well, I didn’t even know I had powers, until Mike —” 

Will’s voice hitched.

Mike.

“Oh, yes, Wheeler!” Eddie clapped his hands, glancing around. “Where is that lanky spider boy? I need to have words with —”

His voice slowly trailed off as he read the room.

“Oh God.” He swallowed. All the humor drained from his eyes as he glanced between Will and Dustin. “What happened?”

The lights flickered. Will kicked himself, and they stopped.

“Don’t do that,” El whispered in his ear. “Don’t hurt yourself. Bad technique.”

Will glanced up at her, and she stared him down. Dustin and Lucas were explaining what had happened, but when Will looked away from his sister, he couldn’t avoid Eddie’s knowing gaze.

“Shit,” Eddie murmured, looking faintly sick. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“He’s not even out of surgery yet,” Will croaked. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and focus on Eddie. “How are you feeling, though?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Eddie scoffed.

Will snorted. “You got your intestines ripped open.”
“Just a little bit —”

Down the hall, a door flew open. All of them perked up as a familiar voice carried down to their ward.

“Oh, calm down, he’s just over here, Stevie, stop freaking out —”

Will managed to grin at Eddie. He hadn’t forgotten how Eddie had mentioned Steve in the Void, and judging by Eddie’s face, he certainly hadn’t been ready for Steve to show up. Eddie frantically raked a hand through his hair, which the surgeons had washed to prevent further infection, but still looked ratty and unkempt from three months of being in a slime cocoon. 

Robin tumbled in the door, beaming. Like everyone else, she was still dressed in her clothes from last night, and had only barely been able to keep up, but she looked as bright as if she’d taken a shower. Steve was right behind her.

Will had expected Steve to be happy. He was wrong.

Steve was seething .

“Oh.” Eddie melted at the truly petrifying look on Steve's face. He opened his mouth to make a witty remark, spluttered something, and quickly closed it again. 

“What.” Steve's voice was dangerously low. His jacket was unzipped to reveal a rumpled shirt, and he hadn’t even cleaned up the muck of the Upside-Down off his clothes. He looked like he’d slept maybe an hour, if he’d even slept at all. His unwashed hair hung over his eyes as he stepped forward and leaned over the hospital bed. “was the one thing I told you not to do, Munson?”

Eddie gulped. “Be a hero?”

Steve's voice shook. “ And what did you fucking do? ”

Eddie’s lips twitched, and then, because he was Eddie, he grinned. “Go be a hero?”

Steve’s face was red, and for once, he had nothing to say. His eyes were bright, glimmering in the light of the hospital room, and his jaw was a tense line. His expression was nigh unreadable. He held Eddie’s gaze for a moment more before tearing his eyes away, and storming out of the ward.

“ Shiiiiiit ,” Robin whispered, her face pale as she started after her friend. “Uh — s’cuse me, I’ll just —”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice sounded faintly strangled. He stared at the thin blanket over his abdomen, his eyes pink. Robin shut the door, and Eddie let out a strangled laugh that might’ve been to cover a sob. “Well. At least you guys are glad to see me.”

Dustin was still staring at the closed door. He glanced back at Eddie, a look of utter confusion on his face. “Well, this makes no sense.”

Erica’s brow furrowed. She was reclined in a chair, one leg kicked over the arm. “What do you mean?”

“I mean — he’s been weird about you, since you — y’know —” Dustin made a vague hand motion to communicate got half-eaten by bats, ‘died’, and sucked into a hive-mind-void-prison. “And when he found the cocoon in Vecna’s house, he was hell-bent on getting you out of there. Like, he knew it was you.” He glanced between Eddie, and the door Steve had just stormed out of.  “So —?”

Erica made a face. “Dustin, are you really this stupid?”

“Oh, well,” he snorted, crossing his arms. “If you think you know the answer, then please, feel free to share with the class, Erica —”

“Uh, no.”

“Really? And why not?”

Erica was still looking at Dustin like he was an idiot. Will had no idea how Dustin was able to bear it without simply dissolving. “Because it’s not my secret to share, dumbass.”

“A likely story!” Dustin snorted. “Sounds like you just don’t —”

“Jesus H. Christ, guys,” Eddie snapped, shooting the two a look that shut them both up. He rubbed his forehead, letting out a wry laugh. “You’re just like my goddamn hallucination said you’d be.”

Lucas’s brow furrowed with concern. “Hallucination?”

“Yeah, in the Void,” Eddie said. “That’s what happens to a guy when you lock him up in a dark room for an indeterminate amount of time, he starts fuckin’ hallucinating. Why mine had to be that Mayfield girl, telling me you all were loud and annoying as shit, I have no idea.”

He might as well have set off a bomb in Lucas’s face. “Wh —” 

Eleven lurched forward, her eyes wide and intense. “Tell me everything.”

Eddie blinked, eyeing her. “Uh . . . excuse me?”

“You saw Max in the Void,” El said. 

“Uh, yeah, I hallucinated her,” Eddie repeated, drawing out his words. “Seriously, Supergirl —”

“But, you saw me, too,” Will countered. His heart was quickening, and for the first time in hours, not out of fear. “How did you know I wasn’t a hallucination?”

“Because you were solid,” Eddie replied. He raked a hand through his ratty brown hair, swiping it out of his face. “Trust me, that Mayfield chick tried to hit me a few times, and it didn’t work out.”

“You found Will, though,” Dustin pointed out, turning to El. “When he was in Vecna’s void prison. How’d you find him?”

“I found his body,” Eleven said. For the first time in hours, her eyes were bright again. “His location. I knew he was alive, but I couldn’t get into his mind. Just like how I can’t get into Max’s.” She turned to Eddie. He was still, his dark eyes fixed on her in an unreadable stare. She held his gaze with steady ease. “The way Max appeared — can you describe it?”

“She . . . was there, but at the same time — she wasn’t,” Eddie said slowly. “She was like a ghost. Half there, half not. Sometimes, I could talk to her, and she’d talk back.” His lips twitched, and something kindled in his eyes as he looked up at the rest of them. “You think she was real?”  

“What —” Lucas’s voice came out strangled. He coughed, and took a deep breath, his eyes bright as he continued, parsing his words carefully. “What did she say?”

“Said I was a shit singer.”

Lucas’s eyes widened, and then as joy flooded his face, he let out a raw chuckle. “That’s Max.”

Will drew in a sharp breath. “But — then why didn’t I see her too, while I was in there?”

“She’s in a coma,” Dustin blurted, his face lit up as the dots connected in his mind. “She didn’t get fully taken by Vecna, only partially. Part of her is still here.”

Silence fell over the room. The six of them sat pensively, caught breath and wide eyes. If they were right, then —

The door burst open, and Robin tumbled through again, this time without Steve.

“Robin!” Dustin jolted. “What’s up with Steve? Is he —?”

“He’s out,” Robin panted. Her eyes were wide. “Mike’s out of surgery.”

The doctors didn’t know when he would wake up.

Will laid across the folding chairs in that little hospital room, frozen like a corpse, watching the rise and fall of Mike’s chest like each one might be the last. One whole half of his head was wrapped in bandages. The doctors had been able to save his eye, but he would have to wear a patch for a while to let it heal. It might never work the same way again. 

If he woke up.

Will was the last person in the room. Everyone else had left after a while, unable to sit in the still, grim anxiety that hung in the air. Even Nancy had hurried out, her hands in her hair, blinking back tears. The other Wheelers had been called, and now that curfew had been lifted for the morning, were struggling through downtown to get to the hospital. Dustin, Lucas, and Eleven had sat in the ward with Will for a while, and together, they’d helped each other through the worst of it. But then, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair had arrived, as had Dustin’s mother, insisting to speak with (berate and fuss over) their children. Joyce and Hopper were busy with damage control, and getting the lay of the land after the military’s excursion, but she dropped by every hour to check on Will, and made sure he ate something. Eleven had closed herself off in the waiting room with her headphones and a book, trying to shut out the world, and Jonathan was looking after Nancy. Robin had taken Steve out to ‘get some air ’ a little over an hour ago, and as far as Will knew, they still hadn’t returned. Eddie was in his ward, sleeping like a rock. 

And Will remained in this little hospital room, lying across the folding chairs, curled over the gaping hole in his heart. 

My fault, my fault, my fault, that little voice in his head had whispered, circling like sickening nausea around Will’s mind as he gazed at Mike’s pale face. He slept so peacefully. When he’d been hooked up to all those tubes and monitors, Will had never been able to get comfortable, but Mike might as well have been wrapped in blankets on a feather bed. His dark hair flared around his face like a halo, his limbs sinking into the flimsy hospital mattress like — well, like someone in a coma.

Idiot, Will thought. His limbs shook slightly, and he couldn’t wipe those last few moments from his mind, before everything had fallen to shit. The part he hadn’t told anyone about yet.

You said I’m the Party’s heart.

You’re mine.

I love you.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. Will’s eyes burned, and he curled in on himself, his chest quivering. Why did you do that? Why —?

He knew why.

It only made it hurt more.

“Please wake up,” he whispered, gazing desperately at Mike’s battered profile. His voice shook amidst the hum and beeping of the hospital ward. He felt stupid, but he kept talking. “Please. I — I swear, if you don’t, I’ll never forgive you.”

Beep. Beep.

Mike remained still.

The lights flickered, and Will buried his face in his hands. God, he was useless. He hadn’t been able to protect Mike. He’d barely been able to protect Holly. 

Useless.

Queasiness wracked him, similar to that he’d felt only yesterday, but much, much worse.

How the hell had Max done it?

It had been easier when he’d been the one leaving. There had been a peace to it, a certain tranquility, a sense of letting go, but also an almost subconsciously sickening finality. Now, the finality was all that remained, with everything else being a cold ocean of dread and fear. 

I can’t do this, he thought, again and again. He remained frozen, his vision blurring as continued to watch Mike’s features, as slack and peaceful as a corpse’s. I can’t watch you die, I can’t let you go, I can’t —

He couldn’t stay in that room any longer. Will shot to a sitting position and staggered upright, lurching for the door to the ward and stumbling out into the hall. He turned and made a beeline for the elevator, for the floor above, the more long-term patients. Every step away from that room was likea step in quicksand, but even so, he breathed in fresh air. The elevator ride was short, and when Will got to the fifth floor, he knew which ward he was looking for.

Max’s room was distinctly more comfortable than that of more temporary patients. It was a bit larger, for one, with cushioned chairs and a bed that looked soft to lie on. On her nightstand, a potted cactus stood cheerfully despite the dark. It sat amidst a stack of books — all her favorites. Lucas would read to her.

Despite the amount of change her room had gone through since March — the books, the many vases of wildflowers El had brought, even a few drawings Holly had made — Max herself remained much the same. Her broken bones were on the mend, but that was about it. Her skin was just as sallow, her hand just as limp over the blanket, her eyes just as gently shut. 

Will’s knees buckled, and he collapsed in the chair next to her bed. He’d never visited her alone before, and it was chilling. Silence hung like a weighted blanket, something he so rarely experienced in Max’s presence. When all five Party members visited, the room would be full of conversation, be it soft or loud, excited or melancholy. Now, the quiet stuffed Will’s ears and threatened to climb down his throat.

He reached out, and carefully clasped Max’s hand. Her skin was cold. His eyes stung as he saw her nails: yellow. He and Erica had shaped and painted them the last time they’d been here. 

“Max.” Will’s voice was a desperate croak. “Max, I need you.”

Of course, nothing happened. Her eyes remained closed, her porcelain face as still as ever.

A wave of despair crashed over him, and Will squeezed his eyes shut against it. El wasn’t able to find her. Why would I stand a chance?

He clung Max’s hand, holding on gently but desperately. He was fresh out of tears, his throat raw and dry as sandpaper, but he kept talking. “Max, I don’t — I don’t know what to do. M-Mike, he’s — he’s hurt, and I — if he doesn’t —” Will choked. The possibility was a cord around his throat, pulling ever tighter, sending the world to black. He clung to Max’s limp fingers. “I’m not strong enough for that. I’ve never been strong enough for that. I — I had a hard enough time saying goodbye to everyone, even when I thought they’d be okay, and now —” Will’s eyes stung fiercely, and so he shut them again. His breath rattled as he whispered, “Now, if he doesn’t wake up, it’ll be because of me.”

Hearing it out loud felt like a death knell, the bang of a judge’s gavel. Will tried to swallow, but there was a stone in his throat. He gazed at Max’s still features, desperately trying to imagine what she’d say. 

“How do you do it?” he asked, his voice a strangled half-breath. “How do you stay strong? How do you — how do you —” His throat closed up. 

How do you say goodbye?

The hospital room was silent, except for the faint beeping and sighing of machines. Out in the hall, footsteps grew louder, then quieter. The back of Will’s neck prickled. 

You don’t, mopey. 

Will and his sister bolted through the hospital hand in hand, their hearts in their throats. They found Lucas slumped next to the vending machine, exhausted from talking to his parents, and though their explanations were nothing more than a jumbled mess of half-finished sentences, he understood immediately. Within seconds, they’d found Dustin, and the four of them were dashing down the hall to Max’s hospital room. 

“It makes sense! It makes sense! ” Dustin kept blurting, fiddling with his radio for a static channel as they ran. “Will got into the Hive Mind where Eddie was, so it makes sense that he’d have a way back!" They blew by Eddie’s ward, and Dustin banged on the door as they passed. “Eddie! We’re gonna wake up Max!”

Will only heard a raspy, bewildered, “You’re gonna what?” before the four of them were out of earshot again.  

“You’re sure?” Lucas asked Will, for the fifth time. Hope was dawning in his eyes like sunlight, starting to ease the worry that had been ingrained into his features since March. His voice had gone from strained to breathless in a matter of seconds. “You heard Max?”

Will nodded rapidly. He’d heard her voice, just as clear as if she’d been sitting next to him: You don’t, mopey. His heart pounded as they burst into the stairwell — screw the elevator, too slow, goddammit they were going to do something — and took the steps two at a time. They were on the fifth floor within seconds, bolting down white linoleum halls, and skidding into the room they knew so well. 

Max hadn’t moved, but everything had changed. Will fell into the seat he’d been in earlier as Dustin fumbled with the radio, Eleven hovering behind him. Lucas sat down next to him, his jaw tense, lacing his fingers together tight enough to make his knuckles pale. His eyes were wide and desperate as he gazed at Max, but for the first time in months — full of hope. 

“Alright!” Dustin called, followed by a loud squeak of static. He glanced towards Will. “You think you can pull this off?”

Will nodded. He’d never done anything like it before, but he’d heard El describe it, and fuck it, he had to try. Max had been trapped in this cosmic limbo for months. He had to get her out of there. 

“Be careful,” Eleven told him, her voice hushed as she handed him one of her favorite bandanas. Her eyes shone. “I’ll be right here if you need me to pull you out. And if you can’t manage it —”

“I will.” He took the pink bandana and tied it around his head, covering his eyes and plunging the word into darkness. “I’ve done it before.”

Will reached forward and took Max’s hand, the same way he’d done before. Her fingers were still cold, but he felt the brush of smooth nail polish, and remembered all the afternoons they’d spent together: talking, complaining, gossipping, just hanging out. Max always grounded him, just as much as El. She never belittled him, never judged him; just took him as he was and talked to him all the same. He couldn’t help but smile, feeling tears well even in his closed eyes.

“Max.” Will gripped her hand, and searched for what had come over him before — the silence, the narrowing of the world, how every quiet detail slowly became obvious. His voice instinctively dropped to a whisper. “Come on. Help me find you.”

He could hear the sounds of his friends’ breathing: Lucas, hitched and hesitant; Dustin, steady and hopeful; El, strong and sure. Will tried to draw on a bit of that strength, and pushed his mind further. Gradually, silence fell over him like a blanket, until even the beep, beep of the heart monitor faded into background noise. 

“Come on, Max,” he whispered. In the darkness of his eyelids, Will spotted something that could almost be the ripple of the Void’s liquid surface. His breath shuddered, and he thought he could hear its echo. “It’s time to get up.”

Chapter Text

When Mike opened his eyes, he found he could only open one of them.

He was lying on a flat bed, covered in a shitty blanket, there were things poking every inch of his skin, and there was something over his right eye. Mike lifted a hand to brush it off, and caught sight of the tube protruding out of the back of his hand.

What the fuck?

Mike blinked his sole eye, trying to gain some kind of focus on the situation. It sucked only being able to use one eye, the whole world looked almost two-dimensional, but he was pretty sure that thing on his hand was an IV.

Which meant he was in a hospital.

Which meant —

Mike lurched forward. Instantly, the world spun, but he pushed through it, blood roaring in his ears as he scrambled to rip all the wires and sticky things off his arms and chest. His heart pounded like a drum, probably tattooing the outline of his ribcage on his skin. Once he’d ripped out the IV, leaving a sting he barely even felt, he swung his legs off the bed.

The world went from spinning teacups to Tower of Terror, and within seconds, Mike’s face was pressed up against something cold and hard. He blinked. It was linoleum.

Shouts echoed from somewhere beyond him, and Mike struggled to push himself to his knees. His mind was spinning, but he remembered — he remembered firing at the sky. He’d watched the horses bolt and felt a wave of tragic relief, grief choking him as he watched Will’s face go from shock to horror, but swallowing it down. He remembered running at the thessalhydra and getting a few good hits in, before everything went black. And then, he remembered — vaguely, as if from a dream —

Will. Standing between him and the monster. Arm outstretched.

Mike scrambled to his feet and lurched forward a few steps, crashing into something and stumbling past it towards the door. He had the vague idea that he was yelling. He didn’t know when he’d started, only that now his voice was echoing down a hall instead of just in a tiny room, and his throat felt like sandpaper. He swayed in the glaring white hallway as he shouted Will’s name, his single eye flicking from harsh lights to carts to doors upon doors to people in blue scrubs —

He was nowhere to be seen. 

No. No. No. Mike’s knees buckled. Dull pain throbbed through his limbs, face, and now his throat, near hoarse as he screamed, “ Will! ”

Cold fear gripped him, and then Mike was running, crashing into walls that appeared out of nowhere, tripping over his own feet, blindsiding arms that tried to grab him. His heart was in his throat, panic crashing onto him like drowning as he was thrown back to that horrible night in ’83, and then the one not so long ago, when he’d been helpless, stupid and useless and unable to do anything but sob and scream. “Will! WILL! ”

A hand grabbed his elbow. Mike tried to shake it off, but the world pitched, and his legs fell out from under him. He let out a howl, kicking and clawing because Will was out there and Mike had to get to him, he couldn’t leave him, not again, not when —

“ Mike! ”

A familiar face filled Mike’s vision, and those sharp eyes made him falter.

“N—” His voice was barely a breath. “Nancy?”

His sister’s face, scuffed with a few new cuts, softened with relief, but her eyes remained hard. “Mike —”

“Where’s Will?” he blurted, panic and dread clawing up his throat. “Is he —?”

“He’s alive. They’re all alive, idiot, so stop running around, or you’re going to reopen your stitches —”

The relief that swept over Mike was so overpowering, it made his vision dim. Alive. They’re alive. All alive. He let out a sound between a breath of relief and a sob. Will’s alive. I got him. I got him out of there .

That was Mike’s last coherent thought, before the world tipped sideways into darkness again.

Chapter Text

Mike drifted in and out of consciousness for what could’ve been hours, or days.

He vaguely remembered his parents and sisters coming to visit him. Holly had cried, and he’d groggily assured her I’m okay, it’s okay, before losing his grip on the world and falling right back into exhaustion. He remembered a voice — Nancy? — telling him that he’d been hit in the head, and the doctors had barely been able to save his eye. He’d managed to ask for Will, and Nancy had promised to come back with him, but then the world had faded into darkness again.

When he woke up the next time, it was better.

Sunlight streamed into his little hospital room, warming his face and body through the thin blanket. Mike still felt drowsy, but no longer as heavy — his mind was a circle of warm, stay, cozy, warm, yes, and not just because of the sun. 

A soft, familiar voice had led him back to the world, and Mike didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was, or what book he was reading.

“After a while Pippin fell fast asleep, and was lifted up and borne away to a bower under the trees; there he was laid upon a soft bed and slept the rest of the night away. Sam refused to leave his master. When Pippin had gone, he came and sat curled up at Frodo’s feet, where at last he nodded and closed his eyes. Frodo remained long awake . . . .”

Mike lay still for a while, following that voice back to consciousness, and once his eyelids no longer felt so heavy, he opened them. 

Will sat in the path of the setting sun as it streamed through the window, edging him with gold. The old, battered book in his hands was angled up to catch the light, and his eyes travelled along the well-known lines, his voice a low, soft lull as he read them. 

“‘If you don’t come back, sir, then I shan’t, that’s for certain,’ said Sam. ‘Don’t you leave him! they said to me. Leave him! I said. I never mean to. I am going with him, if he climbs to the Moon; and if any of those Black Riders try to stop him, they’ll — they’ll have Sam Gamgee to reckon with.’” Will’s voice hitched, and he paused, dipping his head. His fingers worried the edge of the page, shaking slightly. 

Mike’s voice was barely a croak. “Damn right they will.”

Will froze for a moment. Then, he snapped upright, moving so fast he dropped the book, and the look on his face made all of Mike’s pain go away.

Mike smiled as much as he could. “Hey.”

“You —” Will’s voice trembled. He was on his feet, his eyes bright as his face twisted and he yelled, “You idiot!”

“Oh.” Mike clammed up immediately.

“You should’ve run!” Will couldn’t tear his eyes away from Mike, his face flushing red. “You were supposed to leave me, but you didn’t, and you — you —  God, you’re so stupid, Michael!”

Mike couldn’t disagree with that. He especially wasn’t about to disagree with the very pretty boy who’d stolen his heart years ago, and was now yelling at him. 

“And then, you just had to — to fucking run at it alone?” He choked on his words, clawing his fingers through his hair. A tear dropped down Will’s cheek, and Mike’s heart quivered. Will’s voice was tight, shaking as he stood there with disheveled hair and worry lines etched into his face. “Like you’re the only one who’d fall apart? Like I — like that wouldn’t —”

Will’s voice broke. He was looking at Mike like he was the only thing in the world, those warm hazel eyes welling with tears, and all of a sudden, the anger seemed to rush out of him. Will’s shoulders trembled, and then he fell back into his chair as if dragged down. His back bent, his shoulders hunching inward as he buried his face in his hands.

“H-hey,” Mike rasped. He fumbled for the bed control to raise him into a sitting position, and slowly, it eased him upward. His heart was lodged in his throat. “Hey, keep yelling at me.”

Will let out a sound like a choked laugh. His shoulders trembled. 

“C’mon, you know I deserve it,” 

“You —” Will looked up. His eyes were glimmering, turning green and gold in the sunlight, bright with tears as his breath shuddered. “You’re so stupid.”

Mike couldn’t help but smile. It was something he’d told himself a million times before, but coming out of Will’s mouth, he knew it meant something different. “I know.”

“You — you could’ve died,” Will said, his voice breaking on the word. The look on his face was raw in a way Mike hadn’t seen in years, and it took his breath away. “I mean, God — what were you thinking? That you’d somehow kill that thing? That it wouldn’t — it wouldn’t —” He inhaled sharply, gripping his hands and blinking rapidly. 

Mike’s heart tightened. “Will —”

“Don’t.” Will glued his eyes to Mike’s covers. “Don’t start talking, because you’ll find some asinine way to justify it, and I —” He let out a sound between a laugh and a groan, resting his forehead on one hand, and really, he had no right to look that attractive. “I’m trying really hard to stay mad at you right now as it is, the last thing I need is for you to go and weasel your way out of it.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to — to weasel my way out of anything,” Mike laughed. His voice was hoarse, but something about being around Will made him feel lighter, stronger. “I’m just saying, what I did was arguably very noble —”

“Shut up,” Will groaned, covering his face. “That’s exactly what Lucas said —”

“And I’m saying, when has Lucas ever been wrong —”

Will’s hands fell away from his face, and when he looked up, Mike found himself unable to breathe. Will’s hazel eyes glimmered as his lips twitched; worry lines lingering but mostly smoothing out as relief swept over his face, bringing a few tears with it. Will shook his head softly, a shuddering, helpless breath rushing out from his mouth. “You’re still an idiot.” 

What vision Mike had went blurry with tears. He was smiling, his heart swelling, his chest quivering with delayed relief and realization. A sound escaped his lips, something between a gasp, a sob, and a ragged laugh. Will was here, sitting in the sunlight, cheeks flushed and bright with life. Mike’s brain was still recalibrating, but the simple fact of Will nearby made the whole world easier to bear.

Almost immediately, Will leaned closer, his eyebrows furrowing with worry. One of his hands rested tentatively on the thin covers of the hospital bed. “Hey. What is it?”

Mike struggled to speak. When he finally managed it, his voice was a rough, choked, “I missed you.”

Will’s expression softened, his lips twitching as his eyes glimmered. “I wasn’t even gone for a day.”

“I know.” I don’t care. It felt like eternity. It almost was. Mike hadn’t gotten a single easy breath, not since the moment Will froze up until they’d pulled him from the vines. He remembered, in vivid detail, the shock that had crashed over him; and the way his heart had only quieted when Will had been in his arms. He remembered the exhilaration of wind blowing through his hair, warm laughter in his ears, Will’s arms around his waist. Mike remembered seeing the thessalhydra, and the decision that hadn’t even taken five seconds. All the same, he’d bit back his tears and stalled, his heart whaling against his ribcage as he’d carefully tucked Will’s fingers around the reins. He remembered how Will’s eyes had widened in complete shock, his stammered, wh-what? and how slipping off that horse had felt like throwing away a coat in a blizzard. Mike had kissed Will’s hand, because he’d known that if he were to do anything more, he wouldn’t be able to go on. He remembered gazing up at a face he thought he’d never see again, cheeks flushed pink and slack with shock, and he’d wanted to spend a thousand years in that moment. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it until now.”

Will’s eyes brightened. “I —” His cheeks flushed again, and he glanced down at the ground, looking as though he were trying to suppress a smile. His voice came out quiet, but raw. “I missed you too.”

Mike was grinning like an idiot. He glanced down at his hands — pale, scuffed from everything that had happened — and subtly looked back over at Will. He seemed unharmed. Mike couldn’t remember much after feeling the thessalhyrdra’s tail hit his head, but he vaguely remembered seeing Will, hand out, facing that thing down —

And then it had gone flying.

Mike blinked. He had hit his head, but —

“So.” Mike cleared his throat. “Did I hallucinate, or do you have superpowers?”

He expected Will to laugh, shake his head, and give some practical explanation for how they’d both survived getting run down by a monster the size of a house. Or maybe Will would stare at him and ask what the hell he was talking about. Maybe Mike had hallucinated Will even being there, maybe his brain had swam through the haze of pain and concussion and conjured up —
“Uh.” Will looked up, half-smiling. “Kind of?”

“Wha — what?” Mike jolted, and they probably could’ve heard him in China. “WHAT? You have —?”

“Shhsh!” Will lunged forward, gently covering Mike’s mouth with his hands. Mike’s brain went out of commission for a minute — wow, his hands were really soft — but not for long. “Don’t tell the whole goddamn hospital, geez — aah!” Will jerked back, frantically wiping his palms on his jeans. “Did you lick me, Mike? Ew —!”

“You’re changing the subject!” Mike struggled to sit up, grinning. “You have superpowers?”

“I — yes!” Will hissed. “Don’t shout it —”

“Oh, right — sorry, Clark Kent.” Mike cleared his throat, forcing himself to look serious. “I totally didn’t see you, like — fight a monster with your mind. That didn’t happen.”

Will stood. “Where’s the goddamn hand sanitizer?”

“Fuck if I know, I’ve been asleep —” 

Mike’s jaw dropped as Will stretched out his hand, and a bottle of clear liquid shot across the room.

It hit Will in the face.

Mike couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, already halfway to wheezing as Will scrambled to scoop up the hand sanitizer from the floor. His head started to hurt, but hell, it was more than worth it.

“Glad I can entertain you,” Will remarked, his cheeks as red as his nose as he cleaned his hands. He narrowed his eyes. “You probably shouldn’t be laughing that hard. You’re injured, remember?”

“Oh, yes,” Mike coughed, lying back on his pillows. His head ached, but he could hardly give a fuck. “Injured, very injured. I’m missing an eye, you know.”

“You’re not missing it, it’s still there.”
“Oh, for all the good it’s doing me,” Mike snorted, rubbing the patch. “I can only see you with one eye. Sucks.” He cleared his throat. Wow, he was bad at flirting. 

Speaking of —

“Wait.” Mike’s fingers twisted in the fabric of his hospital gown. “Where the hell are my clothes?”

“Oh. Um. Uh, the doctors had to cut them off, to make sure you weren’t —”
Mike yelled ‘fuck’ a lot louder than he probably should’ve. He struggled to get out of bed, but one of Will’s hands ghosted over his, and his brain promptly short-circuited.

“They’re in a bag somewhere — hold on,” Will got up again, and this time dug around the hospital room with his hands. He brought a plastic bag out from under a duffel — Mike had a vague memory of his parents bringing that by — and put it on Mike’s lap. “They’re, uh — kinda — covered in blood —”

Mike ripped the shitty plastic bag open and heaved a sigh of relief when he saw his flannel and bomber jacket. They were both soaked in blood, which sucked, he loved that jacket, but when he reached for the breast pocket of his flannel, the contents were still there.

A wave of butterflies swept over him. Mike bit his lip, suddenly very aware of the fact that he probably looked like shit. Forget the injuries — he didn’t even want to know what his hair was doing right now. 

“Um.” He swallowed, his fingers brushing the letter, and the little cloth pouch. “How — how long was I out?”

Will shuffled in his chair, those eyes green and gold in the sunlight, and just as bright. He rubbed his knuckles, and Mike was almost tackled with the sudden urge to take his hand. “Two . . . two days.”

Mike blinked. Cleared his throat. Blinked again. “What.”

“You got hit in the head pretty bad, man,” Will said. “The, uh. The bones around your eye, they were all . . . .” He went pale, and looked down. 

Now Mike really wanted to hold his hand.

Instead, Mike reached up, and brushed his fingers over his right eye. It was covered in some weird gauze, and taped in place. His gut pitched, but he took a breath, and tried for a smile. “Does this mean I’ll have to wear an eyepatch?”

Will met his gaze again, looking significantly less pale. His lips twitched with a kind of fondness that made Mike’s heart do somersaults. “Not forever.”

“Aw, damn,” he muttered, sinking back into his pillow. “I probably could’ve gotten a parrot for half-off.”

Will snorted, rolling his eyes. “You will have to wear one, though, at least for a bit.”

“Oh, the horror,” Mike grinned, imagining himself with a sick-looking eye patch. “This is gonna be so cool. I bet Eddie —” His heart seized. “Wait. Is Eddie okay? I remember —”

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s okay.” Will’s eyes softened, then flickered with wariness. “Do you, um — do you remember much?” He drew in a quick breath, picking at the cuffs of his shirt sleeves. He tried to keep his tone nonchalant, but there was a faint tremor in his voice. “The, uh — the doctors said you might not be able to remember what happened right before — right before, um —”

Mike could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

He knew what Will was talking about.

God, it was so much easier to be brave when nothing mattered — when he was about to die anyway, so who fucking cared about the consequences, but now . . . .

Mike was afraid. He always had been. But, he supposed that was the point of bravery: it couldn’t exist without fear.

“I —” Mike’s voice cracked. Of fucking course it did. He tried to pass it off as a cough, and Will, sweet, caring Will, immediately jumped up to get him a glass of water. Mike took it, but almost dropped it when their fingers brushed. He still had one hand in the pocket of his flannel. He downed the water, gulping until his throat wouldn’t dare inflict that on him again. Jesus Christ. Eventually, he cleared his throat, set the glass down on the table next to the hospital bed, and looked Will in the eye.

Will’s eyes slowly narrowed, his lips twitching in a way that was half amused, half worried. His eyes were the same. “Mike? Are you okay?”

Nope, absolutely not, he wanted to say, because his heart was beating out of his goddamn chest, but he found he couldn’t say anything at all, and so he drew out the little cloth bag instead. 

His hands were shaking as he held it out. Will took it, brows furrowing. “What —?”

“O-open it,” Mike stammered, like a man who didn’t know whether he was about to be kissed or shot. His stomach was twisting itself into fucking macramé. He was very, very aware of the fact that he probably looked half a mummy and half an emo teenager on six cans of Red Bull, but goddamn it, the suspense was going to kill him. 

“Okay,” Will said, half-smiling to himself. Gently, he pulled open the little drawstring bag, and immediately, the skeptical look on his face vanished. 

Mike could hear his own heartbeat.

“It’s — uh — it’s your birthday present,” he blurted. “I know, it’s late. It’s really, really late, but it — I — um —”

Mike stopped mid-sentence. Will’s face had gone white as a sheet, and his eyes were fixed on something in Mike’s lap — his flannel. 

The other boy’s voice trembled. “Is — is that the fucking letter?”

“Wh — oh.” Mike looked down. The yellow paper was peeking out of its pocket. He smiled, feeling his cheeks grow warm. “Oh, yeah. Um —”

“Did — did you — did you —” Now, it was Will’s turn to stammer. He looked utterly vulnerable, his eyes shot wide with a dazed kind of fear, but also —  

Mike bit down on his bottom lip and brushed aside his covers, scooting closer to Will. “See —” He cleared his throat. Fuck it. He reached out and brushed Will’s hand, pointing to the inscription on the ring. He focused on those little characters, written not in Black Speech, as they were on Sauron’s ring, but in the tongue of the Elves.

“So — so the thing about this inscription, it’s, um —” He laughed, partially because he was so goddamn nervous. He could feel Will’s gaze on him like the heat of the sun. “It’s not what’s on the One Ring. Obviously. I, um, I had Gareth do it. He’s one of Eddie’s friends. His mom makes jewelry, and he knows Elvish.”

“Elvish.” Will’s voice was faint. “Like . . . Sindarin?”

“Yeah, Sindarin. He’s got all these books about it and stuff, I mean — the work Tolkien put into his languages is wild, there’s all sorts of dialects and things, and Gareth — he, um — he said this was the closest approximation of, um — what I wanted.”

Will’s breath brushed against Mike’s forehead. His words were barely inaudible, but they sealed it. “What does it say?”

Mike was very, very aware of the fact that their hands were still touching, but he couldn’t find it in himself to pull away. He didn’t want to. He didn’t ever want to. He ran one finger along the short inscription, pointing to each word. “So — so, my pronunciation's shit, but it says ‘gomín olatham ellin’. Which means, um. Roughly. ‘Crazy together’.”

Will was dead silent.

Mike started panicking. His palms were sweating. He didn’t dare look up, but he didn’t dare shut up, so he kept talking. “I think it’s, um, more literally, ‘we will become crazy together’. Actually, I think ellin means, like, ‘strange’ more than ‘crazy’, but, y’know, same sentiment —”

Will’s hands spasmed. He almost dropped the ring, but quickly caught it, and slipped it onto his index finger — the same one Frodo always wore his ring on. Mike glanced up, and all the air left his lungs.

Will was looking at him wide-eyed, lips parted, golden-amber in the sunlight and glimmering with tears. Mike couldn’t help thinking that he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It was mesmerizing. His heart tugged at him, and finally, he ran with it.

“Look.” He swallowed. “I know I’ve been a — a piece of shit, lately, and I think it’s because I was scared. I’m not scared anymore. I know what real fear is now, and it was when I thought I’d lost you.” Will’s eyes were bright, blazing, but Mike didn’t look away. He was caught in it, like a ray of sunlight, and he didn’t ever want to leave. “I’m your Sam. I’d go with you to the moon, to Mordor, and the West, too. There’s nowhere I wouldn’t follow you.”

Mike let out a shaky breath. He’d best just shut up for now, he sure wasn’t going to top that anytime soon — but he immediately short-circuited and went absolutely still when Will’s fingers brushed his cheek. 

“Mike.”

The ring was cold against his skin, but quickly warming up from the light burning in Will’s eyes, and the heat of their breath as the air between them mixed. 

Mike could barely speak. Their faces were so close together, he could see every way the light refracted in Will’s eyes. “Y-Yeah?”

A tear dropped down Will’s cheek, and he was smiling, brighter than Mike had ever seen; and it had all been worth it. Will’s breath hitched as he inhaled, his thumb brushing under Mike’s good eye, and he whispered, half-laughing, “You are an asshole.”

Then, Will kissed him. 

Mike’s mind went completely and utterly blank. For a second, he couldn’t think of anything — anything beyond how soft Will’s lips were, those lips Mike had spent years stealing glances at, wondering in the back of his mind. He was still for a moment, suspended in disbelief and bliss and oh my God oh my God oh my God before he regained control of his limbs. His mind imploded, and then it was like all the strength suddenly flooded back into his body, because his hands were in Will’s hair and his heart was pounding. Will gasped, and Mike captured the sound with his lips. He was dizzy. Kissing Eleven had been nothing like this. The whole world felt bright — then Mike realized it literally was bright, the lights were going crazy. 

Superpowers, he thought giddily, his mind a rush of I did that, I did that, I can make him feel that happy as he leaned forward, chasing the way Will’s lips moved, wanting to feel more —

“Jesus, Mike!”

“Wh — oh, shit!” Mike realized what was happening way too late, and slid off the hospital bed. Will lunged to catch him, managing to slow Mike’s fall, but they both ended up on the floor, tangled in each other’s arms, Will laughing in a way Mike hadn’t heard in years. 

He was beautiful. His cheeks were flushed pink, his hair mussed up, his nose scrunched as he laughed, and the whole world twinkled around them. 

“Dude,” Mike gasped, his fingers curling in Will’s sleeve. “The lights.”

“Oh —” Will laughed, his eyes bright and glistening as he looked up at the pulsing, flashing fluorescents. He focused on them for a moment, and the lights slowly dimmed, evening out into a steadier glow. Even as the light faded, Will’s eyes kept that brightness to them. He looked — wait, he looked like —

“Are you okay?” Mike leaned forward, his heart in his throat. Will looked like he was about to cry. “Is — is this okay —?”

“Yes,” Will blurted immediately. He kept smiling, even as he dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve. “Mike, this is — this is so okay. More than okay. It’s just, I — I’ve wanted this, for —” His voice caught, and his eyes darted away. “For so long, and I’d just — I’d convinced myself it wouldn’t happen.” He took a shaky breath. “But —”

"But it is,” Mike breathed. He laced his fingers through Will’s, rubbing the warm, engraved metal of the ring. He half said it to convince himself — it all felt like a dream. “It is.”

“Yeah,” Will choked out. His voice trembled, but his smile was unwavering, even as tears welled in his eyes. “Yeah, it is.”

Mike could barely find it in himself to breathe. A sob of his own was fighting its way up his throat, and he nearly choked on it. 

“Don’t. Cry,” he blurted, reaching up to brush the tears from Will’s cheeks with trembling fingers. “If you cry, I’m gonna cry, and I already probably look like shit from being half-dead and not having any product in my hair for two days —”

“Shut up,” Will scoffed, sniffling and grinning. “You have an eye patch, and you’re already hot —”

“You —” Mike’s brain short-circuited again. “You think I’m hot?”

Will grabbed his shoulders, his face alight. “Mike, you fight monsters with a fucking sword —”

“I mean, that comes at the cost of looking stupid and getting my ass whooped by Hopper and Murray first —”

“You came and rescued me from the Upside-Down on horseback —”

“Well — the horses were Lucas’s idea —” 

“And you — you’re — I mean —”  Will looked as though he suddenly became very aware of the fact that he was touching Mike. His cheeks flushed, but he didn’t let go. “I mean, what do you see in me?”

Mike stared at him for a solid ten seconds. “I’m gonna give you a chance to take that back.”

“Wh — I mean —” Will laughed nervously, his eyes darting everywhere. “I mean — I’m not — I’m just — me, I guess —”

“That’s it.” Mike leaned forward, the pink flush of Will’s cheeks making him bold. “You’re you. You’re Will Byers, my best friend, the sweet, insanely kind and caring boy I’ve known since I was five years old. You’ve survived things that would’ve destroyed anyone else, and you walk through the world with the same kind, selfless heart. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. You keep running back to face this stuff because you can’t bear the idea of anyone else getting hurt, and you protect us. You protected Holly. You protect Hawkins. You protect me every day. You’ve seen things that would make grown men want to drink themselves to death, but you’re still here, and you’re still yourself. That’s strength. That’s what I see in you.” Mike’s breath caught. Will was gazing up at him, apprehensive, but a teary smile spreading across his face. His hands slipped down from Mike’s shoulders so their fingers could tangle together. Mike’s emotions strangled him, to the point where he could only say something that would hopefully make Will smile more. “And you have superpowers.”

Will laughed “Right, yeah.” He raised an eyebrow at Mike, grinning. “Seems to be a pattern with you, the superpowers —”

“Hey, El gave me her blessing, I swear to God she did —”

“Wait.” He stilled, studying Mike’s face. “What?”

“Before we went out to rescue you. She kinda — well. You know that thing she does, where she looks at you, and kinda reads your mind? She, uh. Did that. And — she wasn’t mad.” Mike shrugged. “I mean, honestly, I think I was the last person to realize, how. Um.” His cheeks flushed. “Y’know.”

Will shook his head slowly, but his brow was furrowing, and his eyes were dawning slowly.

“Dustin read me like a book, dude,” Mike laughed. “Like, the day I broke up with El, he was grilling me. And I told him I — I thought I might be gay, and he was cool about it.”

“He was cool about it,” Will repeated.

“And Lucas, too — I’m pretty sure Lucas knows. And Jonathan definitely knows, man, he kinda cornered me —” Mike’s heart squeezed as he noticed Will was holding back tears again. “Hey, what’s up?”

“They’re cool with it,” Will said, a smile twitching at his lips. “You’re — you’re sure?”

“Yeah!” Mike cupped his face, wiping away a tear that dropped down Will’s cheek. “I’m way worse at keeping secrets than you, you know that. I mean, I — I could keep . . . this . . . secret, if you wanted to — I mean, we’ll have to, to some extent, but — but I mean, honestly dude?” Will’s eyes were bright, and Mike felt like he was standing in sunshine. He couldn’t keep from smiling. “Who cares? There’s fuckin’ demons crawling up from cracks in the road. I got bitchslapped by a slime dinosaur. The military’s fighting demon dogs with teeth flowers for faces. The world’s ending. The world’s ending, and I love you. That’s all I really need to know.”

Will took a shaky breath that came out in a raw laugh, and he was looking at Mike like he’d hung the moon in the sky. 

“Shit,” he whispered eventually, shaking his head. “What’s a guy supposed to say to that?”

“I — um. I mean,” Mike stammered. The way Will was looking at him was making every coherent thought flee for the hills. Except for one. “You could, um. Kiss me.”

Immediately, Mike wanted to slam his head against a wall. Will’s eyebrows rose, and Mike felt his cheeks heat up.

“Oh, God,” he moaned, ducking his head. “There we go, I’ve ruined it —”

Will just laughed, making butterflies swirl in Mike’s stomach, and when Will cupped his hands around Mike’s face and gently guided him back up, Mike stopped thinking. Will was kissing him, softly, and that was everything that mattered. Mike melted into it, into him, his fingers sinking into Will’s hair and caressing the shape of his face. Will shivered. Mike urged him closer, and Will followed, one of his hands slipping into Mike’s hair and the other travelling further down his neck —

“About fucking time!”

The two of them spasmed, holding onto each other even as they broke apart and twisted to see —

“Max!” 

Max Mayfield reached into her bag of Gummy Bears, grinning like the devil as she bit the head off one of them. She was wearing full-coverage sunglasses that made her look a bit like Robocop, but Mike didn’t need to see her eyes to know that they were glinting like coins. 

“You’re — you’re awake!” Mike stammered, even as his heart tried to pound its way out of his chest. 

Somehow, she grinned even wider. “And you finally grew a pair.”

“Oh my God.” Will’s head dropped against Mike’s shoulder, but he was laughing. His face was red, and Mike was sure his was, too. 

“The hell are you guys doing on the floor?” she remarked, biting the head off of another gummy bear. She leaned forward, craning her neck at them. “That is you on the floor, right? Not a pile of possessed clothes or anything? Lucas — Lucas!” She wheeled back to the door and shoved it open with her cane. “Will and Mike are on the floor, right?”

Lucas poked his head into the room, and his eyes lit up like a scoreboard. Immediately, he ducked back out, bellowing, “DUSTIN! You owe me five bucks!”

Will choked on air. A muffled, “No fucking way!” came from down the hall, followed by the rapid slap slap slap of shoes against linoleum. 

Lucas leaned forward to help Will hoist Mike back up onto the bed, grinning like a goblin. “Hey, man, glad you’re up and at ’em —”

Mike sat back on the mattress, gaping, his fingers curling in Will’s sleeve. His brain felt like it was exploding, but he managed to blurt, “You — you placed bets?”

“Oh, yeah!” Lucas nodded excitedly. He looked brighter, happier, and not just because of the won wager. The weighted lines of sorrow in his face had lessened slightly, and smiling seemed to come more easily now. “You just won me five bucks!”

Dustin tumbled into the room, holding his hat down on his head. His face brightened when he saw the scene, but then his eyes turned to Mike, and he put his hands on his hips, heaving a sigh. “Seriously, man? You couldn’t have waited, like, a day or two?”

“What did I say?” Lucas asked, looking smug. “‘The second he wakes up. The second —’”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Dustin groaned, forking out a few bills and shoving them at Lucas. “Go buy yourself a New Coke or some shit —”

“Wait, wait!” Eleven’s curly-topped head appeared bouncing in the doorway. “What’s going— Mike!” She beamed, and squeezed past Dustin. “You’re awa—” She saw the full scene, and her face lit up like a fireworks show. “Oh my God!” She clung to Max’s shoulder, practically exploding with excitement. “You did it! You actually did it!”

Mike was sure his face had to be on fire. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of dignity, but it was immediately lost when Will leaned against him, squeezing his arm as though he wasn’t sure whether or not this was real. Will was smiling, his eyes darting over each of them as he stammered, “So, how — how long have you all —?”

“Three months,” Dustin volunteered. Next to him, Lucas shrugged.

“Two days!” El said cheerfully.

“Oh, fucking years, dude,” Max scoffed. “Wait — guys, we need to tell Robin and Eddie, they’re gonna lose their minds — um.” She glanced back in Will and Mike’s general direction. “Only if you guys are okay with it. Obviously.”

Will glanced at Mike. His eyes held a deep-rooted fear, but also burning bravery. 

Mike felt it too. Something about Will — something about the two of them together, joined at the hip like they always had been, made Mike feel like he could do anything. His fingers brushed Will’s. He could feel the other boy’s pulse, rapid but slowing down, and like instinct, their fingers tangled together. Mike felt a dizzying rush of joy, and saw Will’s lips twitch in a teary smile. Their hands were twined together, something they hadn’t done since they were kids, and it felt like coming home.

Mike shrugged, and he couldn’t help grinning. “I mean, the world’s ending.”

“That’s — pessimism,” El piped up, carefully pronouncing the word. She gave Mike a sharp look, but her eyes were bright, and soon she was smiling again. She clapped her hands, giddy, and soon hurried forward to envelop both of them in a gentle hug. “I’m happy for you,” she whispered, squeezing Mike as tight as she dared. “You guys are so cute!”

“El,” Will complained, his cheeks pink, but she just giggled and ruffled his hair. She looked bright, happy — happier than she ever had when she’d dated Mike.

“So, I get you two want couple time, and all that shit,” Dustin said, waving his hand at Will and Mike. The word hit Mike like a gust of wind. Couple. Couple. Oh my God, are we a couple? WE’RE A COUPLE AREN’T WE OH MY GOD—! Someone was snapping their fingers in his face. “— Mike! We’ve got some updates to give you.”

Mike felt like he was about to explode with happiness, and even that wasn’t dampened by the Party’s updates on the situation in Hawkins. A few military guys had died in their assault, which, yeah, no shit, and they hadn’t managed to capture or kill Vecna — double no shit. On the bright side, activity around the rifts had somewhat ceased — either they’d actually managed to strike a blow, or Vecna was now just playing his cards more carefully. Either way, the military was taking all of them more seriously now. Holly was safe, Karen was now pushing for her to live at camp with the rest of them, which Mike felt more than a bit thrilled about. The idea of her nearby, easier to protect, definitely made him feel better. There was also the way she and Will made each other smile so often, how having both of them nearby helped Mike’s heart beat a little easier — ooh, and they’d be able to pull everyone else into their D&D campaign, too —

A sharp knock came from the door, and everyone jumped. “El?” Hopper’s gruff voice called. “Is the kid awake? Owens has some ques —” Hopper came in through the door before either Mike or Will could react, and his eyes landed on the two of them.

On the hospital bed. Holding hands. 

“Um.” Mike said. His mouth went bone dry. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. This man is actually going to murder me. He tried for a sheepish smile. “Hi.”

Hopper stared at him for a long, long time, his expression unreadable. Then —

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he muttered, and dug a bottle of Tylenol out of his pocket.

Chapter Text

Hopper hadn’t been mad — at Will. He’d grumbled something about you could do better than him, but hugged Will and made him promise to tell if anyone tried to give him shit. Will had hesitantly hugged him back, looking as though he could hardly believe any of this was real. Hopper had then turned to Mike, given him a shoddily-veiled threat that had made both Will and El protest in embarrassment, and Max had cackled like a witch until he left the room. Will had only let go of Mike’s hand when the nurses came in for a check-up. They made him lie back down, which he only complained about a little, and actually did shut up when Will shot him a look. Everyone left while the nurses helped Mike take a shower, and Mike was sure he could hear Eleven’s excited squealing through the wall as she no doubt interrogated him.  By then, it was late. Now that Mike was up and lucid, his friends felt secure enough to head back to camp and reinforce it.

“We’ll have to score it the fuck up,” Dustin had said, his eyes already only half-focused in the way he got when he was drawing up plans. “Like, not just tripwires and shit anymore, Vecna knows we’re on his ass, we’re gonna need booby traps, and ditches —”

Lucas, El, and Erica had rushed him out after that, insisting he get some modicum of sleep and calling goodbye to Mike. Max had hung around for a bit longer, mainly to make fun of Mike (but in that weird way of hers where it didn’t really hurt), until a nurse found her and dragged her, protesting, back to bed. 

Will, however, stayed.

“Aren’t you, um.” Mike swallowed. “Aren’t you gonna head back?”

Will’s lips twitched in a wry smile. He was back in his chair, to Mike’s dismay, but the simple fact of him still being there was more than enough. Mike’s stomach jittered with anxiety at the thought of him leaving. It had gotten dark outside. The idea of Will heading home after now — alone, when it was so dangerous, without Mike or anyone else —

“I’m not in the mood to get kidnapped again,” Will said. “There’s a cot in the hall. I’ll take it. I have, for the past — um.” He glanced down at the ring on his finger, and twisted it.

Mike’s heart swelled like a balloon. 

“Speaking of cots, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Will gave him a sideways look. “The nurse said you should be sleeping.”

“I slept for the past two days.” Mike rolled his eyes, even as he fought back a yawn. “I’m not — tired —”

“Uh-huh.” Will laced his fingers through Mike’s, and Mike abruptly shut up. The whole world felt warmer now, the crappy hospital bed softer, the ache in his head less apparent. Will glanced sideways at Mike, his eyes sparking. “I’m still mad at you, by the way.”

Mike nodded, laughing hoarsely. “Good.” He poked Will’s wrist. “You don’t get mad nearly enough. It freaks me out.”

Will rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile. “I do, I just . . . .” He cleared his throat. “I haven’t burst out like that in a while. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Will.” Mike tugged at the other boy’s hand. “You yelled for a perfectly good reason, I almost got myself killed.”

Will’s lip still quirked downwards, but one of his eyebrows raised. “So you do admit it was stupid.”

“Yes.” Mike cleared his throat. “That being said, I would absolutely do it again.”

“Mike —”  

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Mike said. “You deserve to make it out of this just as much as the rest of us, and I’m not going to do it without you.”

Will was quiet for a moment, running a gentle thumb along the freshly-scabbed scrapes on Mike’s knuckles. “Counterpoint,” he said, his voice soft but strong. “I’m not doing this without you.” He met Mike’s gaze, his eyes shining like gems. “I got a taste of what it’s like to live without you, and I never want to do that again.”

Mike suddenly found it very hard to breathe. 

“So,” Will continued. “Here’s my offer: no more of that self-sacrificing shit that gives me a heart attack.”

“On both sides,” Mike said, pointedly. His cheeks still felt very warm. “You know how stupid I get when you’re in danger.”

Will’s mouth twitched in what was unmistakably a suppressed smile. Gently, he lifted Mike’s hand to his lips, and his answer was a soft rush of breath against Mike’s scraped knuckles. “Deal.”

A whole fucking storm of butterflies swirled in Mike’s stomach, and he must’ve been smiling like an idiot, because Will blushed and looked back down. Mike hung onto the other boy’s hand even as his mind threatened to drift, wanting to savor every moment of this, lest it slip away. He still couldn’t fully believe it was real. Every time he opened his eyes and saw Will sitting there, alive, holding his hand, his breath caught as the force of it swept over him again. 

“Um . . . .” Mike’s breath caught. “Dustin called us a couple.” Will’s eyes were glinting, and suddenly, his tongue felt like lead. “Are we, um. A, uh —?”

Will smiled nervously. “Do you want to be?”

“Yes,” Mike blurted immediately. His cheeks went warm. “That is, um, only if you, uh, want to —”

“I — I do,” Will stammered. He was smiling huge now, his face pink and his eyes bright. “I’d like that. A lot.”

“Really?” Mike was breathless. He struggled to sit up, but Will was there, gently pushing him back down by the shoulders.

“You need to rest,” Will laughed, but his voice was soft with joy. His face was just inches from Mike’s, and Mike was already dealing with a flood of exhilaration that refused to be contained. That freckle at the corner of Will’s mouth was just teasing him, really, and before Mike knew it, he was kissing him again. Will dipped down, his fingers curling in Mike’s hair, and Mike let out a soft little sigh as every other thought was chased from his mind.

“Really,” Will breathed, his voice soft against Mike’s lips. He drew back, one eyebrow raised. “And you really should be sleeping.”

Mike’s fingers were hooked in Will’s sleeve. “Does that mean you’re leaving?”

“Well — I, um —” Will got a little flustered, his eyes darting around. “If I’m distracting you —”

“Oh, just —” Mike held out his arms. “C’mere.”

Will’s eyebrows shot up, his cheeks flushing again. “Mike — you’re injured, you’re recovering —”

“Yeah, yeah, and I thought you were dead, like, yesterday. And the nurse won’t come back for another few hours.” He pouted. “Please?”

Will closed his eyes briefly, as if praying, and then kicked his shoes off.

“Yaaay.” Mike held out his arms, feeling giddy as a kid as Will gently laid next to him in the hospital bed, wrapping one arm around Mike’s waist. Mike draped an arm around Will and leaned against him, reminding himself: He’s here. He’s here. He’s safe. I got him back.  

“Two days ago,” Will corrected.

“Mmph. Whatever. Time doesn’t exist for me anymore.” Mike leaned into the crook of Will’s shoulder, knowing he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. The smell of Will enveloped him: warmth and familiarity, safety, comfort, the feeling of the world slowing down and going still for a moment. Sanctuary.

Will laughed softly, tracing circles on Mike’s back in a way that was oddly mesmerizing. “Did the nurses give you more painkillers?”

“Fugg’f I know.”

Will let out another soft laugh that rushed past Mike’s ear like summer wind, and he pulled Mike closer. 

“I love you,” Mike whispered, smiling uncontrollably. The words were sweet on his tongue, exhilarating even as his eyelids drooped. He knew in his soul, he’d never get tired of saying them. “I love you, Will Byers.”

“I love you too,” Will said softly, and Mike could hear the smile in his voice. Will’s lips brushed against his forehead. “Now get some goddamn sleep.”

Mike did as he was told.

For the first time in months — years, perhaps — Mike slept easy. The feeling of Will in his arms, soft, warm, and safe, grounded him better than a weighted blanket. He was faintly aware of a doctor coming in at some point — a woman with long, curly dark hair — but Will seemed to recognize her, and instead of giving them shit, she just smiled. Will arranged his coat over him and Mike, an extra layer against the cold of the hospital, and wrapped Mike in his arms to keep him warm. Mike fell asleep after about a minute, fighting to stay awake and savor the moment for as long as possible, but sleep soon took him. He found solace in the idea that, when he woke up next, Will might still be there.

And he was. 

It was dark, but Mike could tell Will was also sleeping. Though — his brow was furrowed. His fingers twitched on Mike’s hip, and he pulled in quick, careful breaths. He had to be dreaming. At first, Mike hoped it was a regular dream, but then Will’s breathing turned erratic. His lips parted, and his chest heaved as he sucked in air, his hands shaking —

“Will?” Mike whispered. His fingers brushed Will’s jaw — his pulse was racing. 

Will began to twitch. His face was twisted into a look of agony, his breath shaking in what was becoming a sob, every inch of him trembling —

“Will!”

Will’s eyes flew open, dark and blown wide. For a moment, he was dazed, lost in panic, but then his eyes landed on Mike’s face. A breath rushed from his mouth. His hand came up, and his fingers brushed against Mike’s bandages, gentle and shaking. Touch confirmed what sight might not.

“Hey.” Mike wiped a tear away from below Will’s eye. He’d never heard his own voice go so soft. “Hey, it’s okay.” 

Will’s eyes were still fixed on the bandaged half of Mike’s face. He hung onto the sight of it like a life raft, his throat bobbing, his eyes glistening in the faint light of the medical machines. 

“I have them too,” Mike whispered. His heart was cracking in two at the sight of Will like this, because he knew exactly what it felt like. “I know they seem real. But they’re not, okay? I — I’m still here. And I’m not leaving. I promise.”

Will’s breath shuddered again. He met Mike’s gaze, and his eyes were bright with tears. 

“It’s okay,” Mike promised. His fingers carded through Will’s hair. “Nothing’s gonna hurt us here. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Will squeezed his eyes shut, and tucked himself against Mike. Mike held him close, his fingers covering the back of Will’s neck. He could feel Will’s pulse against the heel of his palm, rapid, but gently evening out. Mike was sure he’d fallen back asleep, and was well on his way himself, when Will whispered, “I’ve got you, too.”

Something bloomed in Mike’s chest that brought tears to his eyes. He kissed Will’s forehead, and murmured, “I know. Superpowered boyfriend. With a gun. No one’s messing with me.”

That brought a smile to Will’s face, and he drifted off to sleep like that, in Mike’s arms.

Eddie summoned them.

That was the exact phrasing Dustin used — summoned. As soon as he could walk, Will helped Mike over to Eddie’s ward, keeping him from running directly into any walls, and the second Eddie saw the two of them, he crowed with delight.

“HELL yes!” he cackled, lurching forward to pull Will into a hug. “You did it! You did it, Baby Byers, fuck yeah —”

Will was laughing, his face red as he carefully hugged Eddie back. He’d told Mike about how the two of them had been trapped in some kind of Void prison together, and though it sucked that that was what it had taken for the two of them to meet, Mike was glad they’d at least had each other down there. It didn’t surprise him in the least that it had apparently taken two seconds for Eddie to basically adopt Will. The two were similar yet complete opposites, in the best kind of way. Mike couldn’t help but smile as he saw them together. 

“I mean —” Will laughed. “If we’re talking details, Mike was the one who really —”

“Right. You.” Eddie leaned forward, fixing his eyes on Mike.

Mike, who’d just sat down and regained relative use of his brain, awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uh. Yeah?”

“If you even think about hurting this little ray of sunshine —” Eddie fisted a hand in Will’s shirtsleeve and pointed at Mike, pinning him with a stare that made him feel like a bug on an entomologist's wall. “I’ll take that sword Dustin’s been telling me about and shove it so far up your ass —”

“Eddie.” Will forced a smile, shooting Mike a wide-eyed I am SO sorry look. “Please stop threatening my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. The word circled Mike’s head like a merry-go-round, faster and more exhilarating with every time he heard it. Soon enough, he’d break the speed of light and go shooting into space. He couldn’t believe it. Boyfriend. I am Will Byers’s boyfriend. BOYFRIEND. WILL IS MY BOYFRIEND.

“AH!” Eddie clapped his hands, looking all sunshine and rainbows again in an instant. “Oh, I’m so proud of you, Baby Byers! Look, you’ve fried Wheeler’s brain!”

Mike blinked. “Huh?”

“In all fairness, he fried mine, too,” Will laughed, twisting the ring on his finger. He’d taken to fidgeting with it, and every time he did, Mike’s heart warmed.

“Oh?” Eddie’s brow raised. “What’s that, Byers?”

“Um.” Will smiled down at his hand. “Something Mike gave me.”

Mike wanted to kiss him right then and there, but Eddie had different plans. “A ring.” The young man’s gaze slid from Will to Mike. “You gave him a ring.”

“Uh.” Mike blinked. “Yeah.”

Eddie’s face glinted with a demonic kind of light. “A gold ring.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you —?”

“Oh, nothing! Nothing,” Eddie said, schooling his face into blankness. “You might want to re-read the History of Middle Earth, that’s all. What’s it say?”

“Um.” Will rubbed the engraving, a small, soft smile on his lips. “Something we used to say to each other.”

Mike bumped his shoulder against Will’s. He looked up, and that smile grew stronger. Their fingers laced together.

“Jesus.” Eddie propped his hand up on his fist. “This shit is so goddamn romantic — Wheeler, where do you get your ideas?”

“I — I dunno,” Mike stammered. Will was smiling and leaning against him, and all other brain functions had been shoved aside. “I just —”

The door banged open, and Robin tumbled through, her eyes lit up like a fireworks show.

“Hold on!” she was saying, practically stumbling over herself but bursting with happiness. “Hold on, I heard there were — Max said —” She saw Will and Mike holding hands, froze, slowly shut the door, then covered her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. “Shit,” she laughed, her voice suddenly quiet and raw. “I — I’m really not the only one, am I?”

“Nope,” Will said. He squeezed Mike’s hand, then got up. “We never are.”

He hugged her. Robin trembled for a moment, then fiercely hugged him back, squeezing her eyes shut. She let out a choked gasp, and then a smile broke across her freckled face.

“Where there’s one, there’s always more,” Eddie said sagely, twirling his hands. His eyes were suspiciously bright, and his lips twitched.

“Sorry,” Robin laughed, fanning her face as Will pulled away. “Sorry, I am a mess — wow, there goes my eyeliner —”

“Oh, fuck, no.” Eddie sat up, his face drawn in seriousness as he peered at Robin’s makeup. “Okay, it doesn’t look too bad.”

“Too bad?” she snorted, unable to keep from grinning. “Fuck you, Munson.” 

Will laughed, and to Mike’s pleasure, sat back down next to him again. Robin chose the edge of Eddie’s hospital bed, tucking her beat-up Converses under her knees as she gave Will and Mike a bright, almost conspiratorial grin.

“So.” She glanced between the two of them, lacing her fingers under her chin. Her eyes sparkled. “Exactly how long has this been going on for?”

Chapter Text

Faint sunlight filtered through the trees above, for just a moment. Will closed his eyes and lingered in it, feeling the warmth play across his face. It would fade soon, but it was here now. The clouds around Hawkins were patchy on a good day, but sometimes, like now, they let light shine through.

He opened his eyes. Their little camp in the woods had slowly but surely grown from a ragtag knot of tents and trailers to a full-blown paramilitary base. Wooden walls were going up around the perimeter of their trailers and Hopper’s cabin; and Lucas, Murray, Eddie, and Dustin were collaborating on what sort of booby traps should go around them. None of those traps were set quite yet, and so Holly could run around as she pleased while they put up the walls. 

“Will! Will!” 

He turned, and saw Holly running over to him, her pigtails bouncing as she darted through the trees. Will couldn’t help but smile as he saw her. Karen Wheeler had practically ordered them to take her in after the whole fiasco with Vecna, especially now that their camp in the woods was probably one of the safest places in Hawkins. Two telepaths and a bunch of trained adults tended to have that effect. Holly’s face was bright with a smile, and as she got to Will, she held out her cupped hands. 

“What do you think of this one?”

Will bent down and squinted at the rock as though he were studying a prime specimen. It was flat and circular, about the size of a hockey puck, and a rather pale shade of gray — exactly what he’d asked her to find. He held out a hand. “May I see it?”

She dumped it into his hands. “Will you be able to paint it for the campaign? To make the Altar of Razzah?”

Will held the stone up to the sun, and after studying for a moment, nodded. “Oh, yeah.” He smiled. “This is our altar.”

Holly beamed. “I — I think I want to find a stick, for my wand. Would you be able to paint that, too?”

“Yeah, sure! Just tell me what you want, and I’ll —”

“Yay! Thank you!” Holly flung her arms around him in a brief, crushing hug that almost squeezed Will’s lungs out before immediately bolting off, her hair flying as she ran like a pale will-o-the-wisp floating through the trees.

“Don’t go too far!” Mike called, jogging up next to Will. His hair was up, and he was wearing his old bomber jacket over a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, his sword at his belt. His face was flushed and sweaty from training. He was still learning how to fight with his newly diminished depth perception, and while he wasn’t quite as quick or accurate as he’d been before, he was improving every day. Mike’s brow furrowed as he watched his little sister, but his expression was soft and fond. “God. She’s gonna shave, like, a decade off my lifespan.”

Will gazed at him, giddy for the millionth time that he could without worrying. They hadn’t been able to find Mike a legit eyepatch yet, and he had to settle for wearing a medical one that fit over his healing eye like a large white band-aid. Will felt a twinge whenever he saw it, but it was more so gratitude than anything else — gratitude that Mike had survived, that the only thing he’d lost to the thessalhydra was 20/20 vision. The wounds he’d gotten from both the thessalhydra and the demodogs had also scarred more than a bit. Will had chided him when the bandages came off, saying that’s what you get when you charge a horde by yourself, dumbass, but it’d been half-spluttered.

Because — holy fuck. Now, there was a steadily healing battle scar along Mike’s neck and jawline, and many more around his left eye. The biggest was a still-puffy red mark that cut through his eyebrow, but there was also a smaller line under his eye, a mark of the surgery that had saved his vision. 

Even though Will felt a jolt every time he saw those scars, it was always followed by a wave of jittering relief. He survived, those scars said. He’s still here. He faced death and came back from it. Mike would let Will trace them with his fingers, reminding himself as many times as his panicked heart needed. 

“They make me look hot, don’t they?” he’d asked one night, grinning. They’d laid their sleeping bags out next to Lucas, Dustin, and El, close together in case anyone had a nightmare. Will and Mike were closer than the others, but no one cared. Hopper had halfheartedly threatened to wake Mike up with an ice bucket if he tried to close the three-inch gap, but Will was sure he was slowly warming up to him. 

Will had spluttered, feeling his face grow warm, and Mike had laughed. Will had tried to pull his hand away, but Mike had laced his fingers around his and held him there, pink-cheeked and smiling. The scars and the patch made him look grim, hardened, tough and fierce — but when he saw Will, his whole face would light up, and he was the boy Will had always known. 

He’d thought Mike couldn’t get any hotter, and as he looked at him now, sunlit in the bomber jacket they’d bleached halfway to hell, his hair pulled back into a ponytail, Will was more glad than ever to have been wrong. 

Mike’s lips twitched. “What?”

“Um.” Will realized he’d been staring, and quickly looked away. He coughed, twisting the ring on his finger. “Uh —”

Mike laughed, and Will knew his face had to be like an open book right now. He leaned forward, his fingers tangling in Will’s, sweaty and calloused from training, but Will didn’t care one bit. When Mike kissed him on the cheek, Will couldn’t help but smile. 

“Coward,” he murmured softly, and cupped one hand under the base of Mike’s ponytail to pull him into a proper kiss. Mike laughed again, and Will captured the sound with his lips, giddiness bubbling up in him just like the first time. He was more than content to stay like that forever, but a shout of “BOYS!” made them startle apart. 

Hopper was standing on the porch, a cutting board piled with sandwiches in his hands. His face was pulled in only a slight glower as he called, “Lunch is ready!”

“God damn,” Mike huffed. When Will looked over at him, his freckled face was just as flushed as Will’s probably was. “Is he ever going to let up on me?”

“He’s being nicer than when you dated El,” Will laughed. 

“True, he hasn’t tried to shoot me yet.” Mike’s eyes tracked his sister, scrambling through the underbrush, and he cupped his hands over his mouth. “Holly — lunch!”

“In a minute!” she called back over her shoulder.

Mike sighed, dragging a hand over his face. “Dude, I can’t eat until you do —!”

“I’ll get her,” Erica shouldered past them, smirking at Mike. She’d eagerly joined in as another one of Murray’s sword students, and even though she was solely on sticks at the moment, half the bruises on Mike’s arms were still probably from her. “Cool your jets, Mama Wheeler.”

“I —” Mike spluttered, and it devolved into a sigh. “Sue me for caring about my little sister!”

Will laughed, and hooked an arm around Mike’s elbow, dragging him along. The rest of them were all coming out from the woodwork of their little camp at the promise of food: Lucas and Dustin wandering out from the trailer that held their radio equipment, Eddie hobbling after him with the help of the stick he’d deemed his wizard staff, Eleven helping Hopper carry food to the clearing where they usually ate, and Steve and Robin helping Max out of the backseat of his car and into her wheelchair after a morning of physical therapy. Despite Max’s complaints about the exercises the doctors put her through, she was slowly but surely regaining some of her mobility. Lucas jogged over and greeted her with a kiss on the forehead, which had the miraculous effect of diminishing her post-physical therapy frown. 

“Hey!” Jonathan jogged out from the cabin to Steve, holding up a hand. “Nance needs me to pick her up from the radio station, can I —?”

Steve tossed him the car keys. “Scratch it and I’ll kill you, Byers.”

“You could try,” Jonathan muttered, but only low enough for Will to hear as he leaned over to ruffle a hand in his hair as he passed. Will laughed, swatting at him, and Jonathan shot him a smile as he walked towards the car. 

They all got sandwiches except for Eddie, who hadn’t quite graduated to solid foods yet, but seemed relatively content with Progresso chicken noodle soup in the meantime. Joyce had set about ‘fattening the kid back up’, and now when he grinned, he no longer looked so gaunt. He seemed to be smiling a lot more now that he was at the camp with the rest of them, and it likely had more than a bit to do with the fact that Holly had looked up at him with her big blue eyes and asked tentatively if he would DM a campaign for her. Eddie had accepted with a gruff nod, but he’d since thrown himself into planning it with a kind of dedication that was almost scary. Now that she was living at camp, Holly had successfully roped the rest of the Party into the campaign as well — along with Robin, whose eyes had lit up as she blurted out a response way too fast for any of them to discern. Even Steve had grudgingly muttered that he might sit in on a session or two.

Despite the fact that the situation in Hawkins was arguably worse than it had been a month ago, everything felt a little easier.

“God, I fucking hate physical therapy,” Max groaned by way of greeting, taking her sandwich from Eleven. “My legs feel like twisted spaghetti stuck through with needles.”

“At least you can feel your legs,” El said, giving Max a pointed look as she sat down on a tree stump next to her wheelchair.  

“Mm, I second.” Dustin shucked off his coat to sit on, inspecting his sandwich. “Baloney, cheese — oh, lettuce! The height of luxury!”

“Dad got oranges, too,” Eleven said, reaching for the burlap bag at her feet and handing them out. “He said we need our vitamin C.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Mike laughed, reaching over. “When was the last time Bradley’s had oranges?”

“Ahhh.” Next to Steve, Robin stuffed her mouth with orange slices and leaned back, her eyes fluttering shut. “Tha’s th’ shit.”

On Steve’s other side, Eddie sighed loudly, nodding as he opened his tupperware of soup. Robin snorted and swatted his arm. 

“Agh.” Max grumbled, picking at the orange. Her sight was returning, but it wasn’t all there yet. She chewed on her lip in frustration. “Fuckin’ shit —”

Lucas glanced over. “You want help?”

“Nah, I got it —” The orange slipped from Max’s hands, and she swore loudly. Before it could hit the ground, an invisible force caught it, and the fruit floated in the air.

“Will,” said Eleven, and he knew from the look in her eyes what she was thinking.

“El,” he complained, already feeling a headache coming on. “You said we were done with training for today —”

“Training is never done,” she said stubbornly. A mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “Peel it.”

“Yeah, Will,” Max said, a hint of a grin on her face. “Peel the orange for your poor, disabled friend.”

“You don’t need twenty/twenty vision to peel an orange!”

“And you might not even need hands, so —”

“Aw, come on, Byers,” Eddie said, between spoonfuls of soup. “Do your wizard shit.”

“Ooh, please,” Robin leaned forward, grinning.

Will sighed, turning his attention to the fruit. It seemed relatively fresh, which was impressive for army rations. The skin was slightly loose from Max’s efforts, and there were areas where it had been picked at, which he hoped would make this easier.

Will narrowed his eyes, and sent the force of his mind hurtling towards the orange. It quivered slightly in the air, and then a small nick on one side began to widen, shaving off patches of orange peel as Will grit his teeth. Fuck, this was complicated. He had to apply enough force to break the skin, but not too much to pulverize the fruit inside, and it was really hard to concentrate on keeping that level of finesse while the people around him were hooting and hollering like five year olds.

“Woah!” Robin leaned forward, laughing as bits of orange peel fell to the ground. “This so fucking wild —”

“WITCH!” Eddie yelled between gulps of soup, grinning like a demon, but watching on with fascination. At his side, Steve rolled his eyes. “Witchcraft, I say —!”

Will stifled a laugh as he broke his focus, the orange badly but finally peeled. He leaned against Mike with a sigh, giving El a pointed look. “And now I have a headache.”

“El!” Mike’s hand came up around Will’s forehead, cradling him. “Stop making my boyfriend give himself headaches!”

El snorted, smiling, and she sent the peeled orange floating across the circle to Max.

Will laughed, sinking further into Mike’s touch as the other boy’s lips brushed the top of his head. 

“Goddamn,” Eddie said, shaking his head. He pointed his spoon at Will and Mike. “If you were any more cute, you’d create a cute paradox, opening a rift in space and time, and this whole town would get sucked through a wormhole.”

“Maybe that’s how we’ll defeat Vecna,” Max offered, popping an orange slice into her mouth. “Give them a tandem bike and send them through the Upside-Down. That shit’ll be gone within minutes.”

“I do not approve of this plan,” Mike said loudly, over Lucas and Dustin’s snorted laughter. “I like Hopper’s idea to just keep shooting the bastard until he doesn’t get up again —”

The crunching of sticks heralded the arrival of Holly, who was practically dragging Erica by the arm. Her face was streaked with dirt, and there were bits of dead leaves in her hair, but she beamed as she held out a stick to Will. “I found my wand!”

Will hummed appreciatively, leaning over to see it better. It was about a foot long and fairly straight, with most of the bark already peeled off and leaving the pale wood underneath.

“A fine choice,” Eddie said, nodding his approval from across the circle. Holly straightened her posture immediately, practically vibrating with the beaming smile that spread across her face.

Erica grabbed a sandwich from the center of the circle and sat down next to Eddie, looking way more exhausted than she had after sparring. “There were plenty to choose from, believe me.”

There was a sound like a bang, and Murray shuffled out of one of the trailers, blinking up at the sunlight. As per usual, the guy looked like he hadn’t slept in three days. His hair was a mess, frizzing up in all directions like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket, and he wore a rumpled Grateful Dead t-shirt under a cardigan that looked like it had been fished out of an attic. He was often going back and forth between the lab and the radio station, and he usually didn’t get back until way late. Will wasn’t sure the guy ever even slept. Murray’s nose twitched, and his eyes flashed at the sandwiches. “S’that food?”

“More inside,” Steve pointed to the cabin. “Welcome to the land of the living.”

“Oh, go f—” Murray saw Holly, and cleared his throat. “Go — jump in a lake, Harrington.”

“Is that mine?” Holly chirped, making her way into the circle to the last sandwich on the cutting board. “What's in it?”

“Cheese, baloney, and lettuce,” Mike answered. Holly made a face at the mention of lettuce, and Mike opened his mouth to retort, but someone else beat him to the punch.

“Jesus,” Murray said, rubbing his eyes with a sigh. “Kid, do you have any idea how hard it is to get lettuce these days? Forget the oranges, we’re damn lucky to have any sustenance other than the cheese the government’s been stockpiling since the fifties —”

As they all did whenever Murray started talking about the government, Holly just blinked and carried on with what she’d been doing. She reached for her sandwich, but at the sight of the dirt all over her fingers, Murray stammered into a tired wince.

“Oh, goddamn — you can’t eat with dirty hands, you little monster —” He let out an exasperated sound and shooed his hands after Holly, who snorted before running up to the cabin to wash her hands. “Really,” Murray huffed, rubbing his forehead as he watched her go. “It’s a miracle that kid hasn’t gotten sick from accidentally eating bugs.”

“Oh, she definitely has,” Mike said, his voice muffled by his sandwich. “Eaten bugs. She hasn’t gotten sick yet, though.”

Murray stared at him for a moment before throwing up a hand. “And this is why I don’t spend all my time with you children.”

“Evidently,” Eddie remarked. Murray’s brow raised, but Eddie held his gaze, lifted the tupperware to his mouth to drink the last of his soup. Come to think of it, Will wasn’t sure the two of them had ever had a chance to fully meet, between Eddie’s recovery and frenzied campaign planning, and whatever the hell Murray was doing. “You don’t know how to fortify a camp, that’s for sure.”

Murray blinked, stifling a scoff. “Pardon?”

“You’re the one who’s organizing the wall building, right?” Eddie said. “You’re gonna need a ditch. Like —” He snorted, his eyes raking the landscape. “At least three fuckin’ ditches, man, if you’re planning to actually defend this place —”

“You’ve made your point,” Steve told him, giving Eddie a look. 

“I — excuse me, for offering my expert advice, Stevie, but this place needs a fucking ditch if we’re gonna keep your — what, seven children safe —?”

Murray cleared his throat. His dark eyes were narrowed at Eddie. Slowly, he lifted a finger, and pointed at the still-scrawny young man. 

“You,” he said. Slowly, he smiled. “I like you.”

Eddie beamed, and hissed, “See? At least someone appreciates me.”

Steve covered his eyes, muttering something indistinct. Eddie threw back his head and laughed, bumping his shoulder against Steve’s before he got up and led Murray off along the perimeter of the camp, leaning on his staff as he pointed out suitable ditch locations. Steve watched him go, chewing on his bottom lip with a strange look on his face.

Robin leaned next to him, smirking. “Ooooh —”

Steve’s face was pink, but his eyes didn’t leave Eddie. “Shut up.”

“What?” Dustin immediately perked up, his eyes flicking between the two of them. “‘Ooh’ what? What?”

“Steve has a crush,” Robin sang, grinning like a goblin. 

Jaws dropped all around the circle. Steve coughed, thumping his chest. “I just — have, um, something in my throat —”

“He thinks you’re hot.”

Immediately, Steve went still. “What.”

“Eddie,” Will said. His cheeks were burning, but he repeated, “He thinks you’re hot.”

Dustin gasped, his eyes lighting up. Lucas laughed, El squealed, Mike was grinning as he glanced back and forth between Will and Steve, and Max slurped loudly from her juice box. Robin turned, shaking Steve like a ragdoll, practically screaming as his face went redder and redder. “Oh my God! Oh my God, Stevie —”

“Um.” Steve cleared his throat, and brushed her off. “I, uh — there’s something I just remembered I need to —”

“Yeah!” Dustin yelled. He looked like he was watching a dream come true. “Go, Steve! Go get him!”

“Shut up!” Steve yelled over his shoulder, but his voice cracked in the middle of it, and he practically ran away — towards Eddie.

“Fly, little bird!” Robin called, laughing as she collapsed on the ground next to Dustin. Her eyes sparkled like stars. “Ah, they grow up so fast.”

Max turned to Will, grinning like a goblin. “I have trained you well, Padawan.”

Will laughed and reached over to high-five her. It was a bit awkward, high-fiving someone whose vision was still returning, but they were figuring it out. 

“Holy shit,” Mike glanced over his shoulder, watching Steve jog after Eddie. “I mean — I can’t say I’m not surprised, but —”

“Oh, you should’ve seen them in March.” Robin slurped from her juicebox and leaned forward, grinning. “We were at Watergate, and Steve took off his shirt to dive down, and Eddie immediately tried to smoke a cigarette. And then, when we were stealing the trailer — ooh!” Robin dropped her juice box to clap her hands around her cheeks, beaming. “Look at them. Look at them, oh my God!”

They all turned. Steve had run up to Eddie and was now talking to him, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Eddie was staring at him like he’d dropped from Mars, and Will would’ve paid good money to know what they were saying.

“What d’you think’ll happen?” Mike asked, his voice low. 

“Eddie’s gonna lose his mind,” Will whispered back. He was beaming, practically jittering with excitement, and he reached over to grab Mike’s hand. “No, ’cause, if Steve does like him back — if Steve asks him out —”

“Holy shit,” Dustin laughed. “Holy shit, Will, I think you’re onto something.”

“I know I am,” Will said, and Mike squeezed his hand. Will looked over at him, and Mike’s good eye was shining, stray wisps of hair falling over his face, his freckles catching the light as he smiled — and Will knew how many there were, now. He’d counted them: thirty-two. Just a month ago, things like this had been impossible. Everything had been impossible, every step he took like just one more to his grave. He’d been trapped under a cloud, but now that it had finally passed, the whole world seemed brighter and more vibrant than before. 

These past two weeks, Will had allowed himself to start hoping. The ring Mike had given him was a light but grounding weight on his index finger, shining bright and gold around the engraved promise. Whenever the world seemed to swim around him, or panic came out of nowhere, Will found himself rubbing that ring like a worry stone, his fingers tracing over the Elvish letters as he reminded himself, again and again. 

This is real.

Will felt tears well in his eyes and he was smiling, smiling like crazy, and then Mike kissed his forehead and pulled him into a hug. Will closed his eyes against Mike’s bomber jacket and wrapped one arm around the other boy’s waist, basking in it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this hopeful. Before two weeks ago, he hadn’t been sure he’d ever escape the overhanging shadow of the Upside-Down. But, now . . . between having escaped Vecna, getting superpowers, finding other people like him, and dating Mike Wheeler — 

Hell, what wasn’t possible now?

Chapter Text

Now that Eddie could walk without immediately collapsing in pain, he was taking full advantage. He’d had the good luck to be moved out of the hospital early, but damn it to hell, he still got hit with dizzy spells and was only allowed to eat food that came in the form of a liquid. 

At least he’d found a cool staff, one that he could use to steady himself, point out where they should probably dig ditches, and look like a cool warlock all at once. Small victories. Murray seemed generally receptive to the ditch idea, which was a fucking relief, because Eddie was in no shape to dig them himself and they’d probably all die otherwise. The camp hadn’t been attacked in months according to Dustin, but with the stunt those crazy kids pulled two weeks ago, Eddie was surprised there weren’t demobats actively falling out of the trees. He supposed having two telepaths in the same place served as some kind of deterrent. Or, at least, he hoped.

“Well, would you look at that,” Murray remarked suddenly, and a smirk tugged at his mouth. Eddie turned from the spot he’d been inspecting, about to ask what was so goddamn funny, and —

God fucking dammit, Harrington was walking up to them. Eddie gripped his staff and drove it into the dirt, pasting a smile on his face as he tried to keep his heart from constricting his lungs. 

“Um — hey.” Steve skidded to a stop in the dirt, awkwardly glancing between Eddie and Murray. He cleared his throat. “Um, Murray, do you mind if I talk to Eddie? For a second?

The man’s smirk just grew larger. He studied Steve for a second, then glanced at Eddie, then back at Steve.

“Okay,” Murray said at last, slowly backpedaling into the trees with eyes that glinted like sharp glass. “I’ll go . . . scout, for . . . ditch locations . . . .”

Eddie watched him go, bewildered. Dustin had told him this guy was weird, but even Eddie wasn’t sure where the fuck that had come from. 

He snorted a laugh, and looked back at Steve. “Where did you even find this guy?”

“A bunker in Illinois. And I didn’t find him, Nance did.” Steve cleared his throat and promptly drilled his gaze into the ground. He was quiet for a second, picking at his jeans in an agitated sort of way Eddie had never seen before.

Fuck, Eddie thought dimly, and hoped Steve wasn’t about to drop some kind of bombshell on him. At least now that Steve wasn’t looking at him, he could look at Steve as much as he wanted. Eddie let his eyes travel up and down the other young man’s body, leaning against his staff. Steve was wearing basketball shoes that were somehow still shiny, a beat-up old jacket, acid-washed jeans that fit absurdly well, and a stupid striped polo Eddie wanted to rip off him. Really, how anyone could look even remotely good in a striped polo was a mystery to Eddie, but trust Harrington to somehow figure it out —

“I’m sorry,” Steve blurted suddenly.

Eddie stared at him, going frozen for a moment. “For . . . what?”

“For, um. Yelling. When you woke up.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I kinda . . . lost it. I’m sorry about that.”

Eddie scoffed. Yeah, that had been weird, but it wasn’t like Eddie hadn’t warranted it. And he definitely, definitely hadn’t been thinking about the fact that Steve had been quite literally shaking as he chewed Eddie out. Which was normal. Had to be normal. Just a guy, pissed at his guy teammate for almost getting himself killed. Normal. Right?

Eddie just shook his head. “Steve, that was like, two weeks ago.”

“I still yelled at you.” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets. “Wasn’t cool. Even though — I mean, yeah, I was pissed as hell, and — to be honest, I still kind of am, but . . . I shouldn’t have done that. Wasn’t cool.”

“You’re completely ignoring the fact that I kind of deserved it.” Steve looked up, and Eddie smirked. “What? I did hero shit, when that’s clearly your area. I stepped on your turf. Anyone would be mad.”

“That’s not —” Steve broke off, and sighed. “You’re messing with me.”

Funny thing for a guy like you to say, Eddie thought. Messing with me all the goddamn time. He just grinned. “What are friends for?”

Steve smiled at that, nodding. His eyes darted down, and he began to fidget with the hem of his jacket.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed slightly. Something was up. That usual Steve Harrington swagger was plagued by some sort of restless energy that Eddie would mistake for nervousness, had he not known better. And why could he not make eye contact? Eddie had had difficulty with that when he was a kid, and still sometimes now, but Steve had never seemed to have an issue.  

“Uh —” Steve coughed. Come to think of it, he looked rather red.

Eddie leaned on his staff. His sides still hurt, and he felt a bit dizzy, but he was sure he couldn’t be imagining the way Steve’s eyes were flickering around the forest floor. “Harrington, are you dying?”

Steve cleared his throat. “Dyouwannacatchamoviewithme?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you, uh —” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked up. His hair swept over his eyes. “D’you wanna catch a movie?”

Eddie blinked.

“With me?”

Eddie stared.

“Like — um.” Steve shuffled. “As a, uh — like, a —”

Eddie gaped. There was no fucking way this was happening. No goddamn way, and so he joked, “Harrington, I thought you had more game than this.”

“I’m out of practice,” Steve muttered, but he was red as a tomato. His eyes bored into the ground. 

Something exploded in Eddie’s head. Why — why wasn’t Steve denying it? Why wasn’t he —

“You mean —” Eddie blurted. “Like — as — a date?”

Steve was as red as a tomato. His voice came out as a muffled breath. “If you wanted.”

Eddie’s newly-patched stomach practically exploded with butterflies. He stood there for a moment, or for hours, leaning heavily against his staff as his knees shook. What. What. What. How — possible? Possible, how? How — WELL DON’T JUST STAND THERE, FUCKING SAY — “Uh, yeah! Sure!”

Steve’s face broke into a soft smile, and it hit Eddie like a breath of fresh air. “Cool.”

“But I’m choosing the movie.”

“You —” That soft look broke, and Steve scoffed — which was somehow even more attractive. “Oh, come on!”

“You haven’t watched Labyrinth yet!”

“Yeah, ’cause it’s for kids!”

“It is not just for kids, Harrington, you should see the leggings Bowie wears throughout all of it —”

Steve blinked. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Oh, I’m sure —”

“You’re baiting me.”

“And you’re lying to me.”

“And you think I’m hot,” Steve said, and smiled that stupid fucking smile. “According to Byers.”

Eddie felt his stomach flip over. “I will — have a firm conversation with that kid.”

“I dunno. He knows his stuff.” Steve shrugged, and looked sideways at Eddie. “Maybe it goes both ways.”

Stupid Steve Harrington stupid fucking Steve Harrington stupid goddamn Harrington and his stupid eyes and stupid sideways looks and stupid —

Eddie coughed, looking back over his shoulder to where Murray was kicking through sticks about thirty feet away, definitely not eavesdropping. “I should, um — get back to, uh —”

“Oh — yeah.” Steve swiped at his hair. “Uh — I was thinking — Friday? There’s a TV in that trailer we stole, I could bring some tapes —”

“I’m bringing the tapes,” Eddie corrected, grinning. “You’re watching Labyrinth.”

“Fine,” Steve huffed, but he was smiling. He caught Eddie’s eye. “I’ll buy snacks?”

“Well, well.” Eddie leaned against his staff. “You sure know how to treat a guy, Harrington.”

“Oh, yeah.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to get you the finest ration applesauce in Hawkins.”

Eddie laughed, ducking over his staff. When he looked back up, he caught Steve’s gaze, and his breath hitched. The way Steve was looking at him —

“Uh.” Steve cleared his throat and looked at the ground, his face bright red. “I’ll let you, uh —”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded, feeling dizzy. Is this real? “Yeah, I’ll just — uh. See you later?”

“Yeah.” Steve looked back up, and his smile — nervous, but adorable — made Eddie’s heart flip over. “Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

Eddie turned around as quickly as his staff would let him and hobbled over to Murray, his brain bouncing around the inside of his skull. His knees were buckling. He was grinning like an idiot, he knew it, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t thanking whatever God or devil existed that he was alive, alive to have Steve Harrington to get flustered over, and to get flustered over him.

Fuck, he thought, half delirious with it. Maybe I’ll get laid in June after all.