Archive of Our Own ^beta

❦❧

“Stop! This is cheating,” Mike’s stomach bubbled with joy at Will’s laugh as he used one hand to try to swat Mike’s from covering his eyes. 

Mike fought back in an attempt to keep blocking the small screen from Will, a childlike laugh escaping his lips. He shoved Will - not enough to hurt but enough to throw him off balance so Mike could keep the upper hand. Will yelped and released his controller to steady himself on the bed and he took the opportunity to move his army tank closer to Will’s and shoot the final shot. 

“Player 2 wins!” filled the screen but Mike didn’t get a chance to bask in the glory of his victory before he was shoved by the boy next to him. 

“You asshole! You only won because you were cheating!” Mike can’t help but laugh again at the faux annoyance painted on Will’s face.

“I think it’s called using strategy,” he beamed, setting the controller down in front of himself and leaning back on his hands. 

“Covering the other players' eyes and shoving them isn't a strategy. It’s cheating,” Will crossed his arms. And in response, Mike let out a playful, dramatic sigh.

“Look at the screen, Will,” he leaned up, a teasing smile strung across his face as he tapped the small television in front of them. “It still says player 2 wins,” he turned his head over at Will, and now their faces were close, almost touching. Mike could clearly see the smile Will had been fighting off struggling to remain hidden. 

God he wanted to kiss them. 

“Work smarter, Will, not harder.” Mike brought his hand up to tap the side of Will’s temple and his laughter filled the room. Mike felt his right shoulder being shoved - which he honestly should have expected - and he fell back onto the bed. 

“You’re such an asshole, do you know that?” Will’s words had no real malice behind them. He adjusted his position so he was leaning on his elbow beside Mike, slightly elevated, and if Mike were totally honest, giving him a beautiful angle to stare. 

“So I’ve been told,” Mike hummed, taking the opportunity to run a hand up and down Will’s clothed arm. He moved his gaze back up from his arm to meet his eyes. “But you still love me,” and Mike truly meant it as a statement but a questioning tone lingered with it.

He expected Will to playfully roll his eyes and mumble something like ‘unfortunately’. Instead, Will’s smile softened. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Mike’s. Mike sighed onto Will’s lips, toying with the rolled up sleeve of his boyfriend's sweatshirt. The kiss was short, too short, but when Will rested his forehead against his, Mike didn’t mind anymore.

“Of course I love you, dummy,” Will finally answered, voice soft but thinner than usual, against sounds from the radio drifting through the room.

A calm smile washed over Mike’s face, and he finally relaxed. Of course Will loved him- how could he ever have doubted that? He tilted his head, meeting Will’s lips again and breathing in the familiar scent he’d missed during these hectic weeks.

This is the first time he had actually hung out with Will in nearly a week, despite living in the dorm hall next to this one. Will had grown distant since they first got here two months ago. Unlike Mike, he seemed to find his footing and make friends relatively fast. Typically, Will spent his time hanging out with those new friends.

And Mike wouldn’t mind, except Will had made no attempt to introduce him to these new friends. Every time he mentioned meeting them, Will would smile but look away, promising, “Yeah, soon,” in a tone that never quite matched his words. 

But soon hadn’t come and deep down he was a bit hurt about it. Of course he was happy his boyfriend finally found his place and made friends but now, Mike kind of felt like he was getting tossed to the side. 

Unlike Will, he hadn’t made any friends, unless you count that one guy from Mike’s biology class who likes to lean over and crack jokes about the professor during lectures. But they never talked outside of that class, so in Mike’s book, he was an acquaintance at best. Even Mike’s roommate hated him, which was fair considering he had been telling Mike for weeks to clean the room and he still hadn’t. 

Mike can feel himself getting in his head again and begin spiralling, something that’s been happening a lot recently. So instead, Mike focused on the gentle dance his and Will’s lips were doing. He focused on the way Will’s body leaned into his own, creating a warmth against the October cold that was beginning to make its presence. He focused on the smell of sandalwood from the candle burning on Will’s desk, which he wasn’t supposed to have but snuck in because it reminded him of home. 

It was Will who finally broke the kiss, much to Mike’s dismay. His eyes fluttered open and he almost began to protest, but he met Will’s hazel eyes and everything in him softened, just happy to be around Will again, kissing or not. They were still close, Will’s leg thrown over one of Mike’s and their noses nearly touching. He brought the hand that was on Will’s arm to his face, gently caressing his cheek. He watched as eyelids covered Will’s hazel eyes and leaned into Mike’s touch.

“I miss you,” Mike breathed out in a soft whisper, the words feeling too intimate to say any louder.

Will’s eyes opened and lips parted but before he said anything, his lips closed and a gentle smile appeared, a smile that made Mike’s heart skip a beat. He felt Will shift and the weight of their heads touching again. 

“I miss you too,” he whispered back. 

Mike took a second to settle into the calm atmosphere he’d been craving all week.

“So, I guess this means you forgive me for totally destroying you in Combat?”

Will scoffed, leaning back just enough to squint at him. “You mean do I forgive you for cheating?”

“Hey,” Mike moved his hand from Will’s cheek and held up a finger, all mock seriousness. “Strategically winning,” he corrected, flashing a teasing smile.

Will rolled his eyes, that familiar grin returning. “I was winning before you covered my eyes. You know that right?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Alright,” Mike’s smile went from teasing to dopey. “Let’s try again. No strategy this time.” He offered. 

Will let out a breath. “As much as I would love to kick your ass in Combat - and then again in Super Mario Bros - this was supposed to be a study date.” Will’s shoulder slightly jutted in the direction of the forgotten textbooks on the coffee table they had abandoned earlier.

Mike’s smile faltered as he was reminded of the reason Will had finally agreed to hang out. To study. He was able to fit Mike into his busy schedule, but only if he could multitask and have it be a time where they sit quietly and do their own work from opposite sides of the couch in Will’s dorm room. 

Mike would be lying if he said it didn’t send a pain towards his heart. 

He was grateful Will felt comfortable enough to sit with him as they both independently work, sometimes looking up or making a side comment to make one another laugh. He knew there was something intimate about their comfortability where they can be around each other and sit in comfortable silence. But Will had been making time to hang out with his new friends. He was still going to group hangouts, going to see movies or plays, and going bowling. Just not with Mike. 

Instead, Mike got to come over while Will was working and couldn’t talk or hang out. 

The only reason he had even gotten Will to play the last game with him was begging him for a break after studying for over an hour. And Mike knew he couldn’t keep doing that or else Will would stop letting him come over even for these quiet study dates altogether. 

“Okay,” Mike finally answered, trying not to sound as upset as he was. 

Will looked at him, and Mike could see the gears turning in his head. He opened his mouth for a moment, contemplating on saying his thoughts and Mike waited, hoping he would follow through. Ultimately, he shut his mouth and Mike felt a tug of disappointment. 

Will leaned down and gave him one more quick kiss before moving from their entangled position, off of Mike and walking towards the couch. 

A soft sigh left Mike’s lips and he stayed back for a moment, listening to the sounds of Will returning to his studying. He should study, he knew that. He was already almost failing out of his classes and midterms and a sudden improvement to his attendance were all that could save him now. But the will to do anything was only shrinking each day and school was something Mike just couldn’t deem as important right now. 

As he laid back and procrastinated, his mind began to wonder. He thought of life in the last couple of years and how much things had changed. He thought of him and Will and how they ended up together in the middle of the greatest war of their lifetime. He thought of El and her sacrifice for their lives. He thought of the kids, all their blood and cries. The way Will attacked them and his possession.

Mike’s heart raced as memories of the past flooded him. He sat up, breath uneven, throat dry, tongue thick, trying to push the thoughts away. His breath hitched as he thought of Vecna’s cold fingers, Will’s terrified face. Fearing for his life as him, Dustin, and Lucas carry a dying El while being chased by government agents and a demogorgon. 

“Mike, are you okay?” Will’s firm hand on his shoulder and voice drew Mike back to reality. His voice wavered, a panicked tone slipping through subtly. Mike swallowed hard, looking over to see concern covering Will’s face. His breathing calmed.

He took a steadying breath, letting his shoulders relax. “Yeah… I’m okay,” he said softly, giving Will a small, reassuring smile. “Just… lost in thought.”

Will studied him for a moment, concern lingering in his hazel eyes. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, not wanting to be another concern for Will, especially not with this. He already had too much on his plate. Plus, Will hated talking about the upside down.

“Really. I’ve got it under control.” He reached out and brushed a hand over Will’s, just enough to ground them both. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Will looked hesitant to believe him but after a moment, his shoulders dropped and he nodded. “Okay,” his voice was gentle. “But if something was wrong, you’d tell me?” 

Mike nodded, his brown eyes meeting Will’s own. “Yeah, totally,” he said, voice just as gentle. 

Will nodded again and moved his hand from his shoulder to intertwine with Mike’s own. “Cmon, let's go study.” 

❦❧

The world around him was red again.

The air burned cold against his skin, thick and heavy with ash that fell like snow. The smell hit him next, wet earth, iron, rot. It was all too familiar. Mike blinked into the dark, and the sky pulsed like a wound above him. The air thrummed with the sound of distant footsteps.

“Will?” His voice cracked when he called out. 

No answer. Just the sound of something shifting nearby, too close and too wet.

He tried to move and see what the sounds were coming from. But the ground pulled at him, thick like tar. He watched as the thick red vines carried themselves around his feet and up his leg, and panic surged through him, rising fast. He tried to bend down and yank the vines back but they were stronger. The vines jumped to his arms and the flickering shadows around him began to take shape as the vines twisted around his torso towards his neck. 

“Will?” Mike yelled again, voice hoarse and dry, desperate for an answer. “Dustin? Lucas? Anybody?” 

And then he saw him.

Will stood a few feet away, head tilted, eyes black as oil. “You did this, Mike,” he said, though the voice wasn’t his. It was deeper. Cold. Wrong. “You couldn’t save any of us.”

Mike’s lungs seized as the vines snapped around his chest. He gasped, but the air wouldn’t come as the vines reached his neck and their grip tightened. Will’s face was empty now. But it wasn’t Will, Mike knew that. The thing wearing his face took a step closer.

“You tried to be a hero and look what happened,” Will’s face changed and in the blink of his eye he morphed into one of the kids Mike had failed to save. 

“You got us killed,” the figure morphed into another kid, another voice. “We’re dead and it’s your fault!” Another kid, another voice. “It’s your fault! It’s your fault! It’s your fault!” The voice and figure in front of him kept changing with each blame thrown and Mike couldn’t handle it anymore, a broken sob escaping his lips as the vine tightened around his neck. 

Unable to look away, he squeezed his eyes shut. In response, the voices only got louder, screaming blame at Mike. “St-stop,” he desperately choked out. The vines continued to grow, stretching towards his face. Mike attempted to scream but it was too late, thick layers of vines covered his mouth.

The voices stopped as the vines continued to his temples, stretching in an effort to force his eyes open. In front of him was Holly. 

“How could you let this happen, Mike? Why did you let him take me?” Holly sobbed, a terrified and hurt look on her face. Mike tried to scream, throw his body towards her, but the vines' grips were too much. 

“You’re my brother, you were supposed to protect me! All my friends are dead because of you! I was taken because of you!” 

Mike gasped, jerking upright. His chest heaved as he coughed on air that didn’t burn, hands clawing at his throat as if the vines were still there. It took a few seconds to realize they weren’t.

No vines, no red sky, no screams. Just his dorm room.

He pressed a trembling hand over his chest, feeling the hammering heartbeat beneath. Sweat soaked his shirt, the sheets twisted around his legs. The dim glow from the hallway cut through the dark, catching on the edges of his desk and the pile of clothes that had long since replaced his chair.

3:43 a.m.

He tried to steady his breathing. It was just a dream, he told himself. Just a dream.

Across the room, his roommate’s bed was still empty, a small mercy. He’d had nightmares before and woken Justin, his roommate, up, but this one… this one was by far the worst. It felt too real.

He looked back at his watch. 3:45. No way he was going back to sleep.

For a minute, he just sat there, staring at the floor, trying to figure out what to do with himself. He could study- God knows he needed to. Midterms hadn't gone great and unless Mike seriously got his shit together, it looked like he would only pass one class. 

Or he could clean, another task he had been putting off forever. Justin would probably appreciate that. 

None of those felt right. The quiet in the room was suffocating. He just needed noise.

With a quiet groan, he pushed the blankets off and swung his legs to the floor. The air hit cold against his damp skin, and he shivered as he stripped off his sweaty shirt and rummaged through the pile on his bed for something cleaner. Everything smelled like the inside of a gym bag. He finally found a shirt that passed the sniff test and tugged it over his head. 

He grabbed his keys, his backpack, and doused himself in enough cologne to count as “fresh.” When he stepped outside, the October air slapped him in the face. It was cold but oddly grounding.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

The streets were quiet except for the hum of streetlights and the occasional passing car. Most of the city was still asleep, but he knew a few coffee shops nearby opened early for restless students like him.

Brew Haven’s bell chimed when he walked in, and the warm air hit him like a wave. The barista looked half-awake, eyes glazed from the early shift. Mike offered a small smile and ordered a hot cappuccino.

He sat down in the back corner with his drink and pulled out Frankenstein, a book he hadn’t started reading and had a report on due this week. With the sounds of the coffee shop beginning to pick up, the tension in his chest started to ease. The nightmare was still there, lingering at the edges of his thoughts, but at least here, surrounded by the low hum of coffee machines and the faint smell of cinnamon, it didn’t feel so close.

...

The words on the page blurred for a moment as he continued Frankenstein, a flashback of the nightmare rang in his mind. He took the final sip of his now cold cappuccino to calm his nerves and focus on the book, trying to avoid the connections the words held to his real life. 

As he read Victor Frankenstein's recollection of his want to create the monster, he felt anger rising in the pit of his stomach. Dr. Frankenstein had created something he didn’t understand for what? The pursuit of knowledge? And then he what? Abandoned it? 

His thoughts traced back to Dr. Brenner. El had told Mike about what he did. The sterile hallways, the flickering lights, the constant experiments. How Brenner called her “his child,” but treated her like a project. 

“He created life,” Mike read under his breath, “but could not bear to be responsible for it.”

It hit harder than he expected. Because that was Brenner too. He wanted power and control, not love or responsibility. He couldn’t love El. He built something beautiful, something human, and tried to break her and leave her for dead when he realized she had become too powerful.

Mike grabbed the napkin from the table and stuck it in the book to mark his place, even though he doubted he would pick it up again. It cut too deep, especially now.

And Mike could recognize he was reading into things. Will always teased him for being dramatic. But the connection between Dr. Frankenstein and Dr. Brenner seemed uncanny. And the connection between El and the monster made his heart ache even worse. 

Because their stories are similar, aren’t they? They were created as some experiment, some man's hunt to pursue new, grand knowledge that could change the world. And then, when they became too powerful, they turned from prideful creations into monsters. 

And that’s the irony to it, isn’t it? Neither of them were monsters. They were just made in a lab and trying to survive. But the monster spent his entire life believing he was one and El… she spent too much of hers thinking the same. 

And Mike had been a part of that.

He thought back to that day in California, their final big fight before breaking up. El called herself a monster, believing everyone saw her as such. Guilt panged Mike’s chest. He made her see herself as a monster. 

Mike took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the nerves that had been arising. The sun was beginning to peek through the horizon and cast a golden light into the cafe. People would soon begin flooding in as they stop by before dropping their kids off to school or rushing into work. 

He glanced at the clock on the wall. 6:42 a.m.. Will would be waking up soon for his 9 a.m. math class and Mike wanted to be there the second he woke up to soak up every minute with Will he can. 

Really, Mike just couldn’t be alone with his thoughts anymore. Placing the book in his bag, he slid out of the booth and went to the counter, ordering another cappuccino for himself, a chai for Will, and two breakfast sandwiches for each of them. 

He waited for his order and as expected, people slowly began piling in and demanding coffee before they started their simple day in their simple lives. His order was up and he grabbed the bag and drink carrier before leaving the diner, careful not to run into anyone as he hurried through. 

It wasn’t a long walk to Will’s dorm building. He walked in, offering a quick hello to the security guard upfront before skating in the elevator and pressing the 7th floor. 

Originally, Mike had thought him and Will would be roommates for college. He thought it made sense. They had lived together before, spent their lives attached at the hips besides a few small bumps. Plus, with Will’s (and apparently Mike’s) nightmares, he figured it would be better to live together, since the two of them were the only people here who knew what happened. 

But about a month before they left for school, Will had barely looked Mike in the eye when he told him that Joyce and Hopper were able to pull some strings and he was going to live alone. 

And Mike would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt. But he didn’t say that to Will in an attempt to be understanding. But now he was left living with Justin, who truthfully isn’t that bad and Mike knows he’s the problem in their dynamic. And he barely saw Will, despite him assuring Mike could come over all the time and they wouldn’t have to worry about being caught by a roommate walking in. 

The ding of the elevator pulled Mike from his thoughts and he hopped out, walking down the hallway to his left. It was quiet, not yet early enough for the lively chatter of young college students to fill the air. 

A gentle smile pulled at his lips as he reached Will’s room, already hearing his 7 a.m. alarm beginning to go off. Right on time, he thought. He adjusted the items in his hands so he could reach one to the door. As he heard the alarm clock quiet, he gave a couple of knocks, trying not to be too loud but loud enough where Will heard. 

It took a couple of moments before the door swung open and a clearly sleepy and confused Will stood in front of him. Mike smiled at the sight. Will was always out of it the first few minutes of being awake and honestly, it was one of Mike’s favorite versions of him. 

Well, Mike loved every version of Will. 

“Mike?” Will asked, voice horsed with exhaustion. “What’re you doing here?” Mike took in this version of Will. Of course he had spent the night a few times and got to wake up with this almost sleepwalking Will before. But his hair was slightly disheveled and his cheeks were coated in a tired blush. The Hawkins High AV club shirt hung over his shoulder in an oversize fashion, and under, you could barely see the end of his boxers. 

“You open the door in your boxers?” He ignored Will’s question, a teasing smile forming against his face. He watched as Will glanced down and groaned, now fully aware of his clothes. He stepped behind the door. 

“Fuck off,” he tiredly mumbled, leaning his head on the door. “You knocked the second I woke up. I wasn’t gonna change.” 

Mike gave a hum in response and used Will’s new position behind the door as his excuse to sneak in. “I’m glad you didn’t. I want the whole world to see you in those Spider-Man boxers,” he snickered. 

Will groaned, shutting the door. “I hate you,” he mumbled with no real bite.

Mike sucked in his breath, a faux betrayal look taking over his face. “I can’t believe you’d say that to me, right after I romantically show up to your place right as you woke up with your favorite coffee and breakfast,” he sighed, using his freehand to press against his chest. “I don’t know how I’ll recover from the heartbreak.” 

Will gasped slightly and Mike could see the sleep leave his eyes at the mention of coffee. “I take it back. I love you and you’re the best boyfriend in the world.” 

Mike laughed and pulled the coffee tray from Will’s reach and tsked. “I don’t know,” he hummed teasingly. “I mean, I haven’t even gotten a kiss yet.” 

Will’s face scrunches up slightly. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.” And Mike should care and think that it’d be gross to kiss before brushing your teeth but honestly he didn’t even brush his yet this morning and he’s been up for almost four hours. 

“Don’t be grossed out but dude that really doesn’t bother me,” he admitted with a slight shrug and Will’s scrunched face morphed into amusement. He shook his head as he laughed before stepping closer and placing a short, closed mouth kiss to Mike’s lips. 

“Mm I love you, Will,” he smiled. Just being in the presence of Will, his Will, the real Will, made the nerves from his nightmare melt away and he began to relax. 

“I love you too, Mike,” Will said sweetly. “But you stink and your shirt has a ketchup stain on it.” Mike looked down at where Will was pointing to see a giant red stain down the front of his shirt. 

He grimaced, cursing his earlier self for not checking the shirt for stains before putting it on. “I’m like … out of clean clothes,” he admitted and Will laughed again. 

“Mike you need to do your laundry,” he said, as if Mike wasn’t aware he needed to. But knowing he needed to and finding the energy to do it were very different. But he couldn’t explain that, knowing it would lead to a further discussion of why Mike doesn’t have the energy, which is a conversation he didn’t want to have right now. 

“I know, I’ll do it tomorrow,” he assured. “But can I borrow some clothes and maybe take a quick shower?” 

“Of course - but only after you give me my coffee,” Mike laughed at the eagerness and lowered the tray back in front of Will. 

“The front one’s yours but you can have some of my cappuccino,” he said, knowing Will also loved cappuccino. When they did get coffee together, they usually both split two drinks because Will could rarely decide what he wanted. 

Will beamed at Mike as he took the tray from his hands. He leaned to Mike and pressed a couple more short kisses to his lips. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person ever?” 

Mike’s grin was dopey, he knows it, but he looks away and shrugs. “Once or twice,” he replied, looking back to see Will already sipping his coffee. He took the second to glance at the room, which had returned to its normal, tidy state since midterms had ended. 

He moved away from where they stood near the doorway and over to Will’s dresser, rummaging through his clothes for something tolerable for the day. He found a shirt and pants that would do, grabbing a pair of boxers before he turned around, seeing Will on the couch, eating his breakfast sandwich. 

A smile tugged at his lips and he made his way over to his boyfriend. Leaning down slightly to reach his level, Mike placed a kiss on his head. “Thank you, Will,” he hummed. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he assured before stepping into his bathroom.

The water almost burned as it hit his back, Mike having the temperature higher than he needed in an attempt to burn off the dream and memories from earlier. His muscles relaxed, more tense than he realized, and he breathed in the steam before quickly washing his body and stepping out, ready to return to his boyfriend. 

He brushed his teeth with the extra brush Wil kept in here for him before stepping into the clothes that were slightly too big for his lanky frame. 

Steam burrowed out of the bathroom as he opened the door and he saw Will right where he left him, sitting on the couch, coffee in front of him, reading one of the three design textbooks he had. Soft music filled the room from the stereo by Will’s desk.

His body was still damp and meeting the air in the room left a shiver down his spine. He grabbed a blanket Will had folded on the end of the small couch. 

“You look better,” Will glanced up at Mike, closing the book but holding his spot with his finger. 

“Did I look rough before?” Mike asked, laying in the spot next to Will and leaning his head into his boyfriend's side. 

He felt Will shrug and a hand on his head, fingers running through his damp curls. “Just a little out of it,” he admitted. “But I know you aren’t a morning person so I figured it had something to do with that. Why are you up this early?” 

The feeling of Will’s fingers in his hair settled a relaxation over Mike he hadn’t felt in a while. “Wanted an excuse to see you,” he mumbled into Will’s side. He placed a kiss there and it must have tickled because Will’s body flinched slightly at the contact. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Will’s voice was soft and sincere, different from the Will in his dream. They settled, and Mike closed his eyes, breathing in Will’s scent. The hum from the heater buzzed through the room and Mike listened as Will opened his book back up and continued to read, still playing with Mike’s hair. 

They stayed like that for a while and Mike almost fell back asleep, but eventually, Will closed his book. “I got to start getting ready for class,” he reminded, which was fair because Mike had forgotten about that. 

He whined, moving an arm to snake around Will’s waist as a way to keep him from getting up and beginning his day. “Just stay here with me,” he offered, squeezing his arm slightly. 

Will hummed. “Trust me, I’d much rather spend the morning with you than listening to a college algebra lecture, but I can’t miss it.” Of course Will couldn’t because unlike Mike, he actually cared about school. 

It wasn’t that Mike didn’t care about school, he just didn’t see the point. He watched a powerful being take over his town, possess his boyfriend, kill his best friend and his father, kidnap his sister. School just didn’t seem to matter to Mike after that. 

“Can I stay here until you get back?” Mike asked, finally moving his head from Will’s side to look up at him. He stopped charting his fingers through Mike’s hair at the position change, instead just resting his hand there and rubbing his thumb. 

“You can,” Will assured. “But I’m not gonna be here much. I’m getting lunch with Allison after class and then hanging out with Tina and Brian this afternoon.” Mike tried not to show his disappointment with Will’s already packed day. 

He clearly didn’t hide it well because Will’s face shifted. He hunched over slightly, placing a kiss on Mike’s head. “I’ll be here for a few hours this afternoon. We can hang out before your 1:00 class,” he compromised. 

Mike nodded a bit, taking whatever he could get with Will. “Okay,” he mumbled, the disappointment lingering in his voice. Will’s thumb kept moving against his head and he looked at him like he wanted to say something and Mike looked back, hoping he would. 

But Will didn’t, just pressing another kiss to Mike’s head before moving his hand from his waist and getting up from the couch. Mike held back a sigh as he readjusted his body and watched as Will began his morning routine. 

...

Mike didn’t mean to fall asleep. After Will had left for his class, he went through their shared collection of movies they kept in Will’s room, since he had the tv. He found their copy of Return of the Jedi, a comfort movie for the party. 

It was the last movie they had gone to see together before Will was taken and everything changed. They had scrounged up enough money to go see it three times over that summer and eventually, once released, bought their own copy to watch it in Mike’s basement whenever they pleased. 

The movie reminded Mike of life before, even if truly there wasn’t much of a life before. But as he held the fast forward button past the ads and the opening theme began to play, a child-like comfort washed over him.

He hadn’t remembered falling asleep but knew it had to have happened towards the end of the movie. The bright sun peeked through the blinds on Will’s window and Mike squinted, covering the light from his eyes. 

He heard the familiar sound of sketching nearby and removed his arm from his face, glancing to see Will, on the floor with his back against the bed and sketchbook in hand. He hadn’t noticed Mike was awake, any sound he’d made probably drowned out from The Rolling Stones playing in Will’s ear from his Walkman. 

Mike tilted his body forward to get a glance at what Will was drawing. It had to be in the early stages but Mike could make out the beginning outlines of a face and body. 

Carefully, Mike leaned over the bed and wrapped his arms around Will’s shoulder, dipping his head into the crook of his neck. He felt his boyfriend jump and heard his gasp and tried to hide his smile. 

“Jesus, Mike, you scared the shit out of me,” Will caught his breath, taking the headphones off. 

Mike snickered quietly, sleep still present in his eyes. He planted a few small kisses into Will’s neck as an apology of sorts. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “You just looked warm.” 

Will’s body calmed from the initial panic. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “Did you get some good sleep?” He asked. 

“Eh,” Mike answered truthfully. Really, he didn’t feel any more rested than he had already felt. “It was alright,” he said. “How was class and lunch?” 

Will hummed. “Good. I brought you some pizza. It’s in the fridge,” Mike felt Will gesture over there and God, was he thankful for that, his hunger becoming more prevalent. “You slept through your class.” 

For the first time since he had woken up, he glanced at the clock on Will’s bedside table and groaned as he read 1:47. Truthfully he wasn’t upset over missing class, but sleeping through his alone time with Will since he would probably be leaving in less than an hour to hang out with his friends. 

“It’s okay,” Will assured. “You needed the rest,” he pressed a quick kiss to Mike’s cheek. 

“C’mere,” Mike mumbled, unwrapping his arms and laying back on the bed, holding a hand out for Will. He seemed to get the hint, Mike watching as he put away his sketchbook and walkman and turned on the radio at his desk. Will returned to Mike, taking his hand before laying down, the low sounds of Fleetwood Mac filling the room. 

“What were you drawing?” Mike asked, voice quiet as he dipped his head down and pressed a gentle kiss to Will’s jawline. 

“I have to redesign an album cover for my design class,” Will tilted his head slightly. “It’s supposed to be digital but I like sketching my ideas first so I don’t have to spend hours at the library computers,” Will’s hand ran up Mike’s back as they laid, an easy comfort. 

“What album are you doing?” Mike asked, moving his face to rest in the crook of Will’s neck, relishing in the scent of his oatmilk bodywash.

“I’m thinking of Dirty Work by The Rolling Stones.” 

Mike paused, trying to remember that album cover in his head. “Oh yeah - that one is really bad,” he mumbled against his skin, causing Will to shiver. 

Will let out a short laugh. “Oh, it’s awful. Like, it’s a nightmare. It's like they picked every color that shouldn’t go together and said, ‘yeah, that’s the one.’ It looks like they were on their way to be a guest on Sesame Street.” 

He kept going, voice warming as he spoke. “And it doesn’t even fit the tone of the album at all! Like the album is really good but the cover looks like a soap ad. And the typography,” Will went on, his hand tracing lazy lines up Mike’s back. “It’s just, like, sitting there. I couldn’t even find the album's name the first time I saw it. I don’t know what they were going for.”

Mike breathed a soft laugh against Will’s neck, a warm feeling settling in his stomach. He loved when Will got like this, quick, passionate, and a little bit nerdy. Will had always been quieter than most, soft spoken in a way that would typically cause his words to be overshadowed by a louder personality. But somehow, Mike had always been the person he felt safe to ramble to without fear of interruption. That meant more to him than he could ever say.

There weren’t a lot of constants left in their lives, but Will talking and Mike listening felt like one of them. It grounded him in a way nothing else could.

Will laughed softly, and Mike felt him shake his head against the pillow. “It just bugs me, you know? The cover just doesn’t feel like the album and that’s what it’s supposed to do. The album cover tells just as much of a story as the music.”

Mike grinned against Will’s skin. “What’re you gonna change it to?”

“I’m not sure,” Will admitted. “I’m gonna relisten to the whole album before I decide.” 

“Smart,” Mike mumbled, taking the lull in conversation to plant kisses up Will’s jaw until his face was in front of his. “Hi,” he smiled down at his boyfriend. 

A smile tugged at Will’s lips too and he brought his hand up from where it rested on Mike’s back and wrapped them both around his shoulders. “Hi,” he smiled. 

Mike dipped down, catching Will’s lips in a sweet kiss. 

Their lips danced together in a slow but comforting motion. Mike could still taste the ruminates of the pizza Will had from lunch, but didn’t mind. One of Will’s hands found its place in Mike’s hair again, a habit he adored. 

Mike used one of his hands to press on Will’s hip, offering slow, gentle movements with his thumb. He deepened the kiss and moved his body closer, realizing just how desperate he had been to feel this close to Will again. 

Will didn’t seem to mind though, following Mike’s lead and pulling himself closer as well. The sounds from the radio shifted from Stevie Nicks, to a radio host, and then Matthew Morrison but truthfully, the music was the last thing on Mike’s mind. 

They hadn’t kissed like this in a while, slow and deep. It was usually simple pecks or short kisses, and even the few longer ones weren’t like this. Their chests pressed together like this let Mike feel Will’s heart and the feeling grounded him. With their noses bumping and lips moving, Mike’s mind didn’t feel so loud. 

They broke away a few times to breathe but only for a moment before dipping back in as if they never stopped. 

Will pulled away and Mike breathed, before attempting to go back in. But the hand around his shoulders moved to press against his chest, blocking him from reaching Will’s lips. 

“I have to get ready to hang out with Tina and Brian,” Will recalled, his other hand still combing through Mike’s hair. 

Maybe it was the lack of sleep or food he had today but Mike’s stomach dropped at the reminder Will was leaving him again to hang out with someone else. 

Not wanting Will out of his vicinity, Mike moved down, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. “Just cancel,” he mumbled, moving the hand that sat on Will’s waist to wrap around him as an attempt to keep him from moving.

The breath of Will’s sigh tickled his ear. “I’m not gonna do that, Mike.”

Mike knew he was wrong. He shouldn’t be jealous over Will making friends. If anything, he should be happy since Will had always struggled in that department. But Will’s denial hurt and he could feel a small anger fester inside of him. 

He moved from his comfortable position cuddled on Will to sit up and meet his face, removing the hand that was around his waist. “Why not?” He asked, feeling his desperation slip through. 

Will’s brows furrowed slightly and pushed his head back, like the question offended him. “What do you mean why not? I’m not ditching my friends. We’ve had these plans for over a week.” He removed his hand from Mike’s hair and sat up, any physical connection between them lost. 

The air felt colder in the room without Will’s touch. Mike sat up fully now, sitting face to face with Will. The pit in his stomach grew with his defense.

Mike scoffed. “So you have time to make plans with these people a week in advance but I have to hunt you down just to sit in your room and get ignored while you work?” 

Mike watched Will roll his eyes and cross his arms over his chest in defense, a tense look in his shoulders. “You’re being dramatic.” His tone was sharp. 

“Am I?” Mike’s jaw clenched, maintaining eye contact with Will. “Because we’ve hung out, what, maybe four times this entire month. And every single time you’re either studying or working on some random project and acting like I’m not even here.” 

“It was midterm season!” Will’s voice raised slightly. “I’m not going to apologize for studying!” 

“I’m not asking you to!” Mike raised his voice to match Will’s but the underlying softness still lingered. “But you still found time to hang out with Jess and Tina and everyone else!” 

Will’s mouth fell open slightly, eyes shifting slightly. “So what, I can’t have friends now?” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Do you even hear yourself, Mike?”

Mike stared back, jaw tight. “That’s not what I said.”

“Yeah, but it’s what you meant,” Will shot back, standing from the bed. “Every time I hang out with someone who isn’t you, you act like I’ve betrayed you or something.”

“I just want you to actually care about us!” Mike stood up too. “I’m the only one who’s been putting any effort into this relationship for months!” He gestured between him and Will. 

“Don’t do that,” Will held a sharp glare, shaking his head. “Don’t say I don’t care.” 

“Why not? It’s not like you’ve done anything to show it recently,” Mike started, a mix of anger and hurt filling his chest. “I’m the one who showed up and asked to hang out today. I’m the one who’s been hunting you down just to get one fucking afternoon with you! I’m the one who’s been actually trying and it feels like I’ve just been thrown to the side for people you barely know!”

“Just like what you did after I moved to California?” Will’s words were cold. “Or when you started dating El and Lucas with Max?” Mike was taken aback by the mention of that time. He knew he had been an asshole to Will and still carried guilt from that time to this day, having apologized multiple times over the years. 

“That’s not fair.” He glared back at Will. 

“No, what’s not fair,” Will interrupted, jabbing a finger into Mike’s chest not to hurt him, but to stand his ground, “is you making me feel like I’m doing something wrong for wanting to spend time with people. You act like I’m some kind of monster for trying to have a life outside of you, for just wanting something normal.”

Mike froze, the word monster echoing in his mind, heavy and familiar.

His breath caught, his mind flicking back to Frankenstein, to the way Victor made something beautiful and then hated it for becoming too human. He thought about Brenner, about El calling herself a monster because that’s what everyone else had made her believe.

And now Will was looking at him like that.

“That’s not - I never said that!” It felt like the vines were tightening around his throat again. 

“But that’s what it feels like,” Will snapped. “I’m sorry you feel lonely, but that’s not my fault. And it’s not my job to make it better every time you do.”

The words hit Mike harder than he expected, sharp and final, like a door slamming shut. For a second, he couldn’t even look at Will. The vines on his neck grew tighter, and the room suddenly felt smaller. 

It was quiet in the room for a moment, only the sound of Paul McCartney quietly playing from the radio. Mike sucked in, looking at Will again. 

“Fine,” he said, voice quieter and calmer than it had been. “I’ll try not to burden you with that anymore.” 

He stepped away, walking to the couch and grabbing his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. 

“Mike-” Will called from behind him, but Mike didn’t stop, the ache in his chest was too strong as he made his way to the door and left without another word. 

❦❧

The air was heavy, wet, and humming, like it was alive. The familiar smell of rot hit him before he saw the black vines curling along the walls, pulsing faintly under dim blue light.

“Will?” he called out, his voice sounding small in the stillness. The word hung in the air too long, swallowed by the dark.

Somewhere ahead, faintly, came the echo of a younger Will. “Mike?” Will’s voice was terrified.

Mike started running. His lungs burned, the ground slick under his shoes, the fog curling around his legs and sending a shiver down his spine. He followed the voice until the shape of someone appeared ahead, small, still, shoulders trembling.

“Will!” Mike’s voice cracked with relief, running up to him. But his relief faltered when Will turned toward him. His face was pale, almost grey, his eyes glimmering faintly with that same eerie, red light Mike had only seen once before inside Vecna’s mind.

“You found me,” Will said softly. His voice was his and not his. It was layered, echoing like something was speaking through him.

Mike froze. “Will, what- what’s happening to you?”

Will's smile was small and sad. “You already know.”

He stepped closer, and the air warped around him. Black veins ran up his neck like spilled ink.

“I told you before, remember?” His voice cracked, but the echo stayed. “I was the spy. I let him in. I helped him see. Every scream, every death happened because I let him.”

“Will no, that wasn’t your fault,” Mike said quickly, stepping forward. “That wasn’t you.”

Will tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Then why do you look at me like it still is?”

Mike froze. His mouth opened, but no words came.

The vines on the floor began to move, slithering closer around Will’s feet, wrapping up his legs. He didn’t fight it. His expression stayed calm.

“You treat me like I’m a monster.” Will whispered. “You pull me close and still flinch like I might break. Like I might turn into him again.”

“I don’t-” Mike’s voice caught, the toxic air thick in his lungs. “I don’t think that, Will. I swear I don’t.”

Will looked down at his hands, blue veins growing from his finger tips up his arms, and when he looked up again, his eyes were hollow, tears streaming down the face that wasn’t quite his anymore.

“You said you’d save me.” His voice cracked. “But what if I was never saved? What if he’s still here, still inside me, and you just can’t stand to look long enough to see it?”

Mike stumbled forward, reaching for him. “Stop,” he begged. “Please, that’s not true!”

But his hands met only air. Will’s form flickered, fading into the mist, until the only thing left was the echo of his voice.

“You can’t save me from what you still believe I am.”

Mike jolted awake, breathing heavy. The walls of his room came into focus, the small light from the streetlights below slipping through the blinds. His sheets were twisted and damp with sweat. 

The sounds of his roommates' light snoring helped ground him back to reality. He took several deep breaths, bringing his palms to his eyes and squeezing them tight. 

The low buzz from the heater filled the room and Mike wished he could stop it, still feeling the heavy air from his dream.

Everything was getting too much. His dreams, his guilt, the fight with Will - their first fight since they got together at that. His chest burned and his thoughts began to speed run again, remembering the way Will said Mike made him feel like a monster. 

The word clung to him like cigarette smoke. Monster. It echoed, bouncing off the corners of his mind until it was all he could hear. He’d spent years trying to convince El that she wasn’t one. And now he’d made Will feel the same way.

He sat up, running a hand through his greasy hair. The room felt small. Every shadow in the room seemed to stretch closer, as if mocking him.

He didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean any of it. But that didn’t stop Will’s voice from replaying over and over again.

“I’m sorry you feel lonely, but that’s not my fault.”

Mike swallowed hard, his throat dry. He hated how true it sounded.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes again, trying to force the image of vein covered Will from his mind. 

3:18 a.m.

He needed air.

Mike removed his palms from his eyes, taking one last deep breath before swinging his legs off the bed and touching the cold floor. He almost shivered at the contrast to the burning inside of him. 

The heater buzzed louder. He slipped on the hoodie from the end of his bed and a pair of shoes before grabbing his keys and gently closed the door so as to not disturb his sleeping roommate. 

As Mike pressed the key into the door, the hallway lights seemed to flicker and shadows grew from the corner. He paused, inhaling deep to keep himself grounded. It was all in his head. He knew that. 

He went through the hallway and down the stairwell before pushing the outside doors. The cool October air nipped his skin so he pushed his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath. 

The air was easier to breathe now and he felt the tension in his chest alleviate just a tad. It wasn’t as quiet as the night before, drunk college students walking through the campus as they finished out their Thursday nights. Their drunken laughs helped. 

He let his feet carry him, mind not sure where he would go. It was too early for anything to be open other than a bar and Mike couldn’t exactly go sit for a beer. He walked through the sidewalk, careful to avoid the girl throwing up in a bush, a friend holding her hair back. 

His feet stopped at a payphone by one of the dorm halls, a little old and rusted. He fished a quarter from his pocket, unsure who he could even call at this hour. But his fingers seemed to know, dancing across the number keys as if there was an obvious answer.

He pressed the phone to his ear, leaning onto the box. The cold of the plastic was oddly comforting as the rings came in and out. As more rang without an answer, Mike felt defeated, sure he would meet the voicemail tone. 

But right as he was preparing to leave a message, the call clicked and the familiar but tired voice rang through. 

“Hello?” Nancy said, sleep and a touch of annoyance in her voice. 

Suddenly, Mike’s throat felt dry again. “Hey, Nancy,” he got out, voice quieter than he meant it to be. 

“Mike?” She asked, coming off confused and annoyed. “Why are you calling me at 4:30 in the morning?” Almost immediate, the annoyance was gone and fear took over. “Is everything okay? Did something happen?” 

Her worry panged his chest, a small reminder of how they were all permanently scared, stuck living half prepared for the next battle. 

“No, no,” Mike eventually got out, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Nothing happened.” He assured. 

“So you just decided to wake me up for no reason?” Her voice was sharp, slight annoyance slipping through. 

Mike rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I didn’t really think about the time.” He admitted. 

He could hear the faint rustling of her sheets and a quiet sigh. “You thought about it,” she said, not unkindly. “You just didn’t care.”

A faint smile pulled at his lips, a breathless laugh escaping. “Maybe.” 

There was a pause. “You sound awful,” she eventually pointed out, which Mike thought was unfair because he’d hardly said anything at all. 

He scoffed, no real bite behind it. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

“No- I mean,” Nancy sighed. “Are you okay?” 

And no, Mike wasn’t okay. At this point, he had to recognize how much of a mess he truly was. But Nancy was in Boston, going to her dream school and working towards her dream job. She was doing okay. What right did Mike have to bring up everything they had gone through to her? How could he drag her back down? How could he make her go through the same thoughts he was battling? 

“Yeah,” he lied, voice soft. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Mike and Nancy were never super close, not like Jonathan and Will. But after everything happened, with Holly being kidnapped and their dads death, their trauma had forced them to form some kind of a closer bond. 

He could practically hear Nancy roll her eyes. “Very convincing,” her voice was sarcastic. But then, gentler, “what’s going on?” 

Mike felt his shoulders fall and he looked at his feet, illuminated by the streetlight above him. He couldn’t tell her about the nightmares or the guilt. He didn’t want to talk about the fight with Will, despite knowing he probably already told Jonathan who would tell Nancy. 

So he went with something safer. 

“I don’t think I like it here,” he admitted. “College, I mean.” 

Nancy was quiet for a second. “You mean your classes? Or the people?”

Mike exhaled, the cloud of his breath visible in the cold air. “I don’t know. Everything, I guess.”

He leaned his shoulder against the payphone booth, the cool metal grounding him. “I mean, I can’t keep up with my classes. And just… everyone here has it figured out and knows what they’re doing. I haven’t really made any friends.”

The truth was heavier than that. It wasn’t just the assignments or the lectures that felt impossible. It was the noise in his head that never really stopped. The way every quiet moment left too much room to think. The way he’d look around campus and see others untouched by the monsters, death, or guilt. 

But how could he explain that?

So instead, he shrugged, even though Nancy couldn’t see him. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this. College, I mean. The classes are hard. I’m failing most of them.”

“Failing?” Nancy asked, and Mike could practically see her furrowed brow. “Mike, you’ve always been good at school.”

Mike held back a sigh because yeah, he was but clearly not now. “Like I said, it’s too much. I can’t keep up.” It came off a little harsher than he meant. 

Nancy was quiet for a moment. He could hear her shifting, maybe sitting up now. When she did speak, her voice was softer. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

Mike scoffed, which wasn’t fair but the exhaustion from the last few days was hitting him. “Yeah, I do. That’s kinda the whole point of college,” he mumbled bitterly. 

“No,” Nancy started, a slight attitude in her voice. “It’s supposed to help you figure things out,” her voice went softer again. “But if it’s not doing that, then maybe it’s okay to take a step back.”

Mike furrowed his eyebrows, fingers grazing the metal cord. “You mean drop out?” 

“I mean take a break,” the streetlights hummed above Mike. “It’s not the end of the world if you need time. You could come home for a bit and work. And if you want to go back, you can.”

He stayed quiet. The thought of going home twisted something in his chest. Hawkins wasn’t exactly peaceful, but it was familiar and in a strange way, safe. Still, the idea of facing everyone made his stomach churn.

“I don’t know,” he finally said.

“That’s okay,” Nancy assured, voice strong and understanding. “You don’t have to know.”

Mike went to reply before the machine interrupted, asking for more coins. “Shit,” he mumbled, digging in his pockets with the hand that wasn’t on the phone. “Sorry, Nance, I’m gonna have to go. I left my quarters in my room.” 

“Alright, just think about it, Mike,” she said. “I’ll see you at Thanksgiving.” 

“I’ll see you then,” Mike mumbled before the phone went dead. He let out a sigh, a cloud of his breath releasing. Setting the phone back down, he stepped away to see all the drunken students had returned to their room and now the campus was once again empty. 

As he stepped away and walked back towards his dorm, he thought of what Nancy said. The thought of taking time off, not having to deal with school, did sound nice. But he didn’t think he could do it if it meant moving back home.

❦❧

“Dude.” 

Mike lifted his head just enough to see his roommate, Justin, standing near the door, arms crossed. “This is getting fucking ridiculous.” 

“What?” He asked, voice horsed, having not spoken since his phone call with Nancy that morning. 

Justin gestured to the room like it was self-explanatory. “This. All of this. It’s disgusting, man.”

He was right, Mike knew it. The room was horrible, dirty clothes strung everywhere, dishes piled on his desk, and his trash overflowing and all over the floor. 

He let his head fall back onto the pillow, staring at the same wall covered in old drawings from Will that he’d been watching all day. “I’ll clean it later,” he muttered.

“Later? You’ve been saying later for, like, three weeks.” Justin’s voice was annoyed, clearly fed up. “I’m serious, Mike. It’s gross. You’re gonna start attracting bugs or something.”

Mike rolled his eyes before squeezing them shut, feeling frustration rise. “Then don’t look at it,” he mumbled. 

“It’s on my side of the room,” Justin scoffed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you but you need to figure it out. If you don’t-” 

“I said I’d get to it!” Mike snapped, his voice breaking sharper than he meant. The words came out hot, reflexive, the product of no sleep, too many thoughts, and the fight still echoing in his head.

Justin was quiet for a minute but in the silence of the room, Mike heard the frustrated breath. “I’m going home for the weekend,” Justin finally spoke. “It better be fucking clean when I get back.” 

Mike didn’t answer.

A few seconds later, the door slammed shut, and the quiet that followed felt heavier than the noise.

Now alone, forced with his thoughts, Mike pressed his palms to his head. Everything was too much and frustrations only seemed to be growing. 

Mike stared up at the ceiling, the quiet heavier than before. The sound of the door slamming still echoed in his head, but all he could really hear was Will’s voice. He replayed every moment of their fight in his head, remembering their words like scenes from a play. 

“I’m sorry you feel lonely, but that’s not my fault.”

“You act like I’m some kind of monster for trying to have a life outside of you, for wanting something normal.”

“Don’t say I don’t care.”

He wanted to be mad, angry that Will couldn’t see how simple it was, how he just wanted them back. Mike didn’t want to fight. He just wanted to matter again. He wanted to have a place in Will’s day, like he used to.

But despite Will’s words, the anger never came. Instead, he was filled with the hollow feeling that arose when there was distance between them and an uneasy sadness that Will didn’t feel the same way.

Will had been putting this distance between them and Mike tried to accept his excuses of new friends and school as the reason but he couldn’t. Mike knew the distance was bigger than that. 

He thought about going to Will’s room, knocking on his door and fixing things before they splintered any further. But Mike couldn’t bring himself to extend the olive branch. He couldn’t break their silence again, like he had all semester.

Because Mike couldn’t go back to how they were. Will was right, Mike’s loneliness shouldn’t be his responsibility. But the sad truth was that here, at this school, Will was all Mike had. 

Mike stared at the ceiling again, watching as the shadows shifted and disappeared as the sun began to set and the little light from the blinds evaporated, leaving him in still darkness. 

He laid, lost in his thoughts of the events from the day. Nancy was right, he could take some time off. He could go and maybe, somehow, get his head on straight and try this again. But that idea seemed farfetched. The issues in his head, the internal battle of guilt and grief, seemed too heavy and honestly, Mike wasn’t sure if it would ever go away. 

Truthfully, he wished there was a way to forget it all. He wished he could go back just to see what his life would be like if Hawkins lab never existed, if Will was never kidnapped. 

Holly would have never been kidnapped, left haunted by the memories of Vecna. Max’s life wouldn’t have been forever changed. Thousands of people's lives would have continued instead of being cut short from a top-government secret they are never allowed to talk about. 

But just as he had the thought, guilt twisted in his chest with the realization that if it never had happened, he would have never met El. 

His thoughts began spiraling, caught in the contradiction. Was it wrong to wish it never happened if it meant the possibility of El never existing? Or existing, but forever left in the hands of the people who treated her like an experiment? But, on the other hand, how can it be wrong to wish something never happened that left himself and plenty others traumatized?

The never-ending loop stopped with a soft knock at the door.

Mike sat up, looking at where the sound rang through. He watched the door in silence for a moment, unsure if it was just in his head. 

He knew who it had to be. There was only one person on this campus, in the city, who would come to his door. Still, his body wouldn’t move. 

Another knock came, this time, followed by a soft, almost desperate “Mike? Are you in there?” 

At the sound of Will’s voice, Mike snapped back. His body moved before his mind caught up, shoving the tangled blanket off of his legs as he stood. He stumbled over a pile of clothes, cursing under his breath, and made his way toward the door.

As he reached for the doorknob, he paused. For a second, he just stood there, staring at the metal. He wasn’t sure what would happen once he opened the door. Will could still be angry. He could still be hurt from the fight. He could be here to apologize. He could be here to break up with Mike. 

A bit of fear surged through Mike at the thought. But ultimately, it didn’t stop him from opening the door, because even if they did fight again, at least they would be in each other's presence and Mike wouldn’t be alone with his thoughts. 

Mike must have taken too long, because as he opened the door, Will had just begun walking away. Mike looked at him as he turned around, meeting his eyes for the first time since he last left his dorm yesterday afternoon. 

Before any words were said, there was a silence between them and Mike knew they were both taking in the sight of one another. Will looked tired, bags under his eyes that Mike was sure matched his own. His eyes looked dejected. There was a bit of puffiness in his cheeks and his shoulders were slouched in defeat. The headphones attached to his walkman were around his neck and in his hands, two cups of coffee.

He looked awful. 

An unsettling feeling festered in Mike’s stomach. 

Just as he noticed Will’s appearance, he knew Will took in his own. Mike was still in the clothes he had borrowed from Will the day before. He hadn’t showered or brushed his teeth since their fight, hardly having the energy to even leave his bed to go use the restroom. And the almost constant bags that existed under Mike’s eyes these days seemed bigger, being even more restless this last day and a half. 

“Hey,” Will finally broke the silence, staying a few steps away from the door. 

“Hey,” Mike’s voice was small, horsed from the emotional exhaustion and the lack of water he had been drinking. 

Will moved, closing some of the distance between the two. He reached one arm out, a coffee cup in his hand. “I, uh, brought you a cappuccino. I know it’s late but I don’t know…” he trailed off a bit, no real end coming to that sentence. 

“Thanks,” Mike said, reaching out and taking the drink, letting his fingers gently rub across Will’s as he did, trying to alleviate some of the awkward tension that existed between them. 

There was a beat of silence and Will curled his now free hand against the coffee cup in his other. “Can I come in?” he asked, voice soft with a touch of nervousness. 

Mike’s heart panged. 

He nodded almost immediately. “Yeah,” he nearly whispered. “Yeah, of course,” he moved back, opening the door to allow Will in. He almost forgot of the disaster that was his room, more focused on the fact Will was here. 

Will came first. 

But he remembered as soon as Will stepped and his shoulders tensed, looking around the room with wide eyes. 

Will hadn’t been over in a long time. Since he had a single with his own bathroom, it just made more sense for Mike to go over there. And because of that, he hadn’t seen the way Mike’s room slowly began to mirror his mental state: an unmanageable disaster.

Mike’s shoulders tensed, feeling exposed. He let his hand fall from its hold on the door and once it pressed shut, Will’s eyes met his again, this time, reflecting worry. 

Mike’s mouth fell open. “I can explain-” He said quickly but Will cut in, his voice gentle and careful.

“Are you okay?” 

A lump formed in Mike’s throat. There was an obvious answer. No, of course he wasn’t okay. No person who was okay would be living like this, a room in disarray, closed off from inviting anyone new in, and failing in every aspect of life. 

He avoided Will’s worried eyes, looking to the messy room. He wanted to tell him. He wanted to spill his guts about the nightmares, the spiraling, the vines that seemed to tighten on his neck anytime something seemed slightly wrong. 

But he couldn’t tell Will, not right now. They were too fragile, the fight lingering. Will had enough to carry on his own. He was continuing on with life, not stuck in reliving the nightmares they faced. He couldn’t burden him with his spiraling thoughts, his guilt, the way every moment, even in his sleep, he couldn’t escape their tortuous past.

“Yeah,” Mike finally let out, quiet and weak. “I’m okay,” he tried to assure, meeting Will’s eyes again. 

Will’s demeanor changed. His lips pressed together as he looked at Mike. 

“Okay,” he said slowly, eyes moving as he set his coffee down on the seemingly only clear spot on Mike’s desk. 

“Let me rephrase that,” he looked back at Mike, face serious. “You’re not okay.” It wasn't a question this time. It was a statement.

Mike swallowed, caught between relief and shame. Will didn’t need him to admit it. He already knew. And maybe, somehow, that was even worse.

A heavy moment passed. Finally, Mike’s shoulders fell and the truth came out. “No,” he whispered. “No, I’m really not.”

Will nodded slowly, eyes filled with more emotions then Mike could read. He seemed to hesitate as he stepped closer, reaching for the cup in Mike’s hand. Mike gave it to him, watching him wearily as he put the cup next to his on the desk. 

Will turned back, facing Mike, before he slowly came closer, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. 

Mike almost collapsed in his arms, feeling himself immediately fall into the touch. He squeezed Will back, hard, like if he loosened any, he would slip away. Everything hit him like a truck. The fight, his nightmares, school, his room - everything. 

He felt the tears well in his eyes as he buried his face in Will’s shoulder. It was out, Will knew, and even though they hadn’t gotten into specifics, Mike felt the weight beginning to be lifted off of his shoulder. 

He moved slightly, trying to get closer and he felt Will do the same, despite it being physically impossible. He felt Will’s hands squeeze the back of his shirt and his shaky breath on Mike’s neck and Mike let a couple of tears fall. 

There was silence in the room as they held one another, the hum of the heater and quiet sniffles coming from both of them. Slowly, Will started to let go and out of instinct, not wanting the comfort he’d been needing to end, Mike tightened his grip. 

“I’m sorry,” Will’s voice broke the silence. “I’m so sorry it took me so long to realize.”

Immediately, Mike shook his head into Will’s shoulder. “No,” he said, voice hollow with emotions. Will couldn’t carry that blame. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to deal with it on my own.”

This time, Will did pull back and the safety from hiding his face in his shoulder was gone, as Will’s hand left his back and instead, cupped his cheeks and forced them to look at one another. 

Mike took in the sight. Tears lingered in Will’s eyes, mirroring the ones he was sure were stuck in his own. His cheeks were red and a few tears stained them. 

“Don’t do that again. Please.” His voice was almost pleading, laced with worry and longing. 

Will’s concerned and pleading eyes were enough to break Mike’s heart so he nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as a few more tears fell and Will caught them with a swipe of his thumbs. “I won’t,” he promised. 

A silence followed as Mike dipped his head down to rest against Will’s own, closing his eyes. Will’s hands left his check, finding a spot resting on his arms. 

Once again, it was Will who broke the silence. He pulled their heads away, keeping his hands on Mike’s arms and rubbing up and down. Mike opened his eyes to meet Will’s, heavy with the emotional weight that was beginning to be lifted. 

“Okay,” Will said with a slight sniffle. “How about you go to my room? Go shower, change, eat something. Get your thoughts together.” His eyes shifted, looking at the room surrounding them before settling back on Mike’s own. “I’ll clean this place up a bit and then, when you’re feeling ready, we can talk. About everything.”

Mike almost protested, not wanting Will to have to tackle the mess he had created. It felt wrong to give that burden to Will, but he saw the way his eyes were pleading. He saw the look Will gave him, the bags under his eye. The thought that maybe Will needed this too, this second to be alone and think before they came together, settled the idea in his head.

Mike gave a small hesitant nod. “Okay,” he said weakly, thumbs rubbing the spot they still held on Will’s back. 

He pressed their heads together again. He felt the weight of everything press down on him. His exhaustion was met with relief and hope that things may just be alright. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Will’s hands found their way back to his checks and Mike felt the warm comfort of his thumbs caressing them. “Don’t thank me,” he said slowly. “This shouldn’t have taken me so long.” 

Mike thought of protesting Will for a second, not wanting him to blame himself. But he put a pin in it, knowing they would talk about it all in just a bit. 

They stayed there for a moment, in silence and holding one another, before Mike began to slip away. He met Will’s hand for a moment, giving it a squeeze. 

The cool floor pressed against his bare feet, grounding him as he walked. He grabbed his cappuccino from the desk before stepping into the hallway and heading toward Will’s dorm.

As he pushed open the dorm door, he was hit with the familiar scent of sandalwood and paint that lingered to every space Will inhabited. A comfort washed over him again and his breath evened. 

For a moment, Mike took in the room. 

The radio was on but silent, like the tape had ended and no one was here to restart it. Beside it, the box of cassettes was a bit dishelved, some scattering the floor in front as if Will had been rushing to search through. 

There were sketchbooks stacked on the desk, one Mike had never seen though it looked worn, like Will had used it for a while. It was open on a page smudged with charcoal fingerprints, dark and cold. Mike couldn’t make out the drawing, lines on the page like faint shadows, almost as if Will had tried to wipe it clean.

The trash can at the end of the desk was filled with crumpled papers. Some covered in the same black charcoal and others just blank, torn from sketchbooks. A few canvases leaned against the wall, turned backward, like Will couldn’t stand to look at them anymore.

Mike stepped further in, surveying the room. Will’s bed, usually made each morning once he begins his day, was pulled apart, covers thrown off almost like in a rush. The blanket Mike had used the morning before was still thrown over the couch, not folded neatly and put back in its place as Will normally would have. 

Mike sat down on the edge of the bed. He put his coffee on the nightstand and noticed three empty mugs sitting there too, none of which had been there the day before. He swallowed hard, seeing coffee stains tattoo the corners, all at different stages. 

Hands on his knees, Mike took it all in, recognizing the silent proof that Will wasn’t really doing alright. 

Mike’s thoughts lingered back to the fight. Will’s defensive tone, the way his voice cracked at words and his shoulders tensed. He remembered the way his eyes shifted and he crossed his arms, almost like he was trying to hide himself. 

“You act like I’m some kind of monster for trying to have a life outside of you, for just wanting something normal.”

The same sentence lingered in Mike’s mind but this time, he didn’t stay on the word monster. Instead, his thoughts focused on the later half. Normal, Will had said. 

Will just wanted something normal. 

The realization punched Mike in the gut, the way Will chased normalcy like someone running from a fire. The overworking, the late nights, the friends, the pretending. It wasn’t distance. It was survival.

While Mike had been stuck reliving every moment of their past, trapped in the echo of what they’d lost, Will had been running from it, searching for anything that could drown out the memories.

Mike put his head down, rubbing his palms over his face. How had he not seen it? How had he missed every sign?

He let his hands fall and looked around the room again, the truth clearer now in every small detail. He would ask Will about it, he had to. Maybe if they finally said everything out loud, they could start piecing themselves back together instead of falling apart in silence.

Finally, he stood up, rummaging through the dresser and pulling out a pair of blue plaid pajama pants and a The Cure t-shirt. He dipped into the bathroom and let steam fill the air before jumping in the shower and washing off some of the pain from the last few days. 

The air was cold as he stepped out and slipped into Will’s clothes and ran the towel through his hair. He went to the sink, wiping the steam from the mirror and looking at himself. The tiredness was still in his eyes and he ached to return to the cappuccino he left on Will’s nightstand. 

Mike brushed his teeth before returning into Will’s room and drinking the now cold cappuccino. The liquid soothed down his throat, hoping the caffeine would kick in soon so he could be more alert for the impending conversation with Will. 

It wasn’t that Mike was trying to delay the conversation any longer as he rummaged through Will’s fridge to find something to sustain him. Rather, he knew it would be honest and raw, more open than either of them had been in months. 

And despite the relief he felt knowing things would come clean and he maybe wouldn’t have to keep dealing with this alone, a bubble of anxiety was still settled in his stomach for what would come. What if Will couldn’t handle Mike’s suffering? 

But as Mike looked around the room, his nerves calmed. Because he realized now that Will was suffering the same as Mike, just dealing with it differently. The conversation wasn’t one he should be nervous about, he tried to tell himself. Rather, he should feel relieved that for the first time in months, they’d be really, deeply talking to one another. 

Mike quickly finished some cold chinese food he had grabbed from the fridge before finishing his cappuccino, putting Will’s dirty mugs in the sink, and beginning the walk back to his room. 

The walk back to the dorm was slow and the October air nipped his skin. Campus was beginning to fill with students scattering to go out, probably heading out to enjoy the upcoming holiday. 

When he reached his door, he hesitated for only a second before pushing it open.

The first thing he noticed was the warm glow from the lamp on his desk. He hadn’t turned it on in a while, truly a fire hazard with how many clothes had been thrown on top of it. The light was easier to digest than the harsh fluorescent one he had been using for weeks. 

His eyes traced to the desk, which was now clear. His books were placed neatly on the shelf and not just shoved wherever they’d fit. His desk chair had once again returned and the dirty dishes were put away - or honestly Mike couldn’t blame Will if he just threw them out, sure there was mold or mildew festering in one of two of them. 

Next he saw to the ground, actually seeing the small rug and wood floor he had covered for so long. The clothes from the floor were gone, and so were the ones on his bed. His bed was also stripped, all that was sitting there was the pillow at top. He tilted his head, seeing the empty closet and assuming his clothes and bedding were still washing. 

It looked livable again.

He leaned back on the door, observing the room. His eyes shifted to Will, who hadn’t noticed him. His back was turned, sweeping up the far corner of the room. His walkman was around his ears and in the quiet of the room, Mike could hear faint music he was sure was too loud for Will’s ears. 

Will turned around, startled at first, then let out a breath when he saw Mike. A small, cautious smile tugged at his mouth. He watched as Will rested the end of the broom, Justin’s broom that he must have grabbed from his side. 

“You scared me,” Will said as he pulled the walkman from his ears. 

“Sorry,” Mike’s smile was faint but still there as his eyes drifted back to the clean room. “You… really did a lot,” there was a slight disbelief and gratefulness in his voice. His eyes drifted back to Will’s.

Will's eyes scanned the room too and he rubbed the back of his neck. “It didn’t take that long,” he shrugged. “You had more empty coffee cups than actual belongings.”

Mike let out a small laugh, sitting up from where he leaned against the wall. “You didn’t throw those away, did you?” 

Will’s eyebrow curled up and his head tilted. “Of course I did Mike - they were disgusting.” 

Mike sucked in a breath, faux disappointment slipping out. “Will,” he whined, walking over to the bare bed and sitting on the edge, facing Will. “I was saving those!” 

Will let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “What could you have possibly been saving 50 used coffee cups for?” He asked, a smile hiding on his lips. 

Mike tilted his head, quick to think of an answer. “Well this kid in my biology class says it’s bad to keep getting plastic cups and throwing them away so I thought I’d do my part!” He watched as Will’s smile was hiding less, watching Mike with amusement, so he continued. 

Mike leaned back on his hands, letting out a breath and skiing his head. “I was just trying to save the Earth, Will, why do you not care?” 

Will’s laughter filled the room as he shook his head, looking to the ground. The sound was like music to his ears, beginning to ease the tension that still lingered between them. Will looked up again, meeting Mike’s eyes. The hazel circles were warm and inviting, showing tints of amusement and love. 

“You’re an idiot,” there was no real bite in his tone, only adoration. Mike knew the words weren’t meant to be true, rather a small, easy way to say I love you. 

Mike’s smile was soft and sweet, reaching his eyes. “Environmentally conscious,” he corrected. 

Will rolled his eyes, shaking his head in amusement. Mike watched him, noticing the relaxation that had grown since he first walked in on him sweeping. His eyes were tired but there was something gentler in them too. 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Mike said, his voice low, almost shy now.

Will shrugged again, moving the broom slightly so it wasn’t leaned against his shoulder, instead out in front of him and closer to the wall. “Yeah well, I couldn’t have you dying from a biohazard.” 

Mike’s head dipped as he let out a low laugh, his damp hair falling against his eyes. 

The tension that had been knotted between them was gone, replaced with a kind of tentative ease. For once, the silence between them didn’t feel like a barrier. It was calm and gentle, like the start of something whole again.

Mike watched as Will leaned the broom against the wall, wiping his hands against his jeans. He reached into his pocket and switched off his walkman, the low sounds of the music cutting out of the room. But even without it, the reminiscent of their laughter was enough to keep the atmosphere calm. 

Will joined Mike next to the bed, enough room between them that they weren’t touching but could easily reach over if either of them wanted. Mike shifted his body to watch Will. 

“Hey,” Will started, voice small and soft, eyes focusing on his knee. “About yesterday…” 

Mike's chest tightened, careful not to break the calm that had settled between them as he watched Will. 

There was a pause, a moment, and Mike watched as Will’s shoulders fell slightly, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he moved his head, meeting Mike’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice sincere, like the words had been burning into his mind all day. “I’m really sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was-” he hesitated, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek,  as if he were searching for the right word. “Tired, I guess. And stressed. That’s not an excuse, I just… took it out on you.”

Mike nodded slowly but stayed quiet. He didn’t want to push too hard, not yet. He wanted Will to keep going.

“It’s just… you were right,” Will’s voice was small and he glanced back at Mike, regret in his eyes. Mike fought the urge to pull him close. “I haven’t been putting effort in us lately. I know I’ve made this… I don’t know… distance between us.” 

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he added quickly, looking away. “Or maybe it was, but not to hurt you… or us. I don’t know.”

Mike saw the frustration grow in Will’s voice. He wanted to jump in, to say he understood, but truthfully, at this point, he didn’t quit yet. Will needed to get it out, to tell him what was going on. 

Will’s staggered, flustered breathing and the hum of the heater filled the room. Gently, to not startle him, Mike moved a bit closer, pressing a soft hand to Will’s back. 

He saw Will’s shoulders relax slightly at the touch. His head lifted up, looking across the room to Justin’s bed, but Mike knew it wasn’t because it was more interesting. It was because for Will, it was easier to wear his heart on his sleeve, to be so vulnerable, when staring away. 

“Since we got here,” Will started, eyes looking down as his fingers shifted together. “I started hanging out with all these new people. And for the first time no one knows anything that happened to me. No one..” Mike’s gaze was soft as he watched Will take a shaky breath in. “No one sees me as zombie boy.” 

“I mean, yeah, no one in California knew but that was different. I didn’t make any friends there and I was mostly just making sure El was adjusting okay,” Will’s Adam apple bobbed, eyes boring into the fingers. Mike curled the fingers against Will’s back as a sign of comfort. “But here, I’m connecting with people and it’s cool, they’re great.”

“But I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that it’s over and we’re out of there. But ever since we left Hawkins… I can’t escape it,” Will finally admitted, looking almost small at the way he folded into himself at the confession. 

“Every time I’m alone with my thoughts, I just get lost remembering everything. Every time I sleep, I have a nightmare and sometimes… I can't even tell if they’re real. I mean, fuck,” Mike watched as a couple of tears fell from Will’s face. “I can’t even be alone in a room if there's no music.” 

“And I figured if I just didn’t let myself be alone with my thoughts, if I put all my effort into other things like friends and school, they’d go away,” Will finally admitted. 

Words hung dry in Mike’s tongue, itching to tell him he understood. He thought of Will’s actions the last few months here. His constant denial to have Mike stay the night, always blaming it from his morning class. The way any time he entered Will’s room or found Will alone, his stereo was on or his walkman was around his neck and sounds drifted through. 

He wanted to reach forward, apologize for not noticing the even clearer signs that Will was struggling, but before he got the chance, Will continued. 

“And when I’m with you, I’m just… so relaxed,” Will’s eyes glanced up, meeting Mike’s for a moment, before falling again. Still, in that second, Mike saw the vulnerability stapled on Will’s face. “Like my body and my mind - when I’m with you, it’s the only time I feel… sane.”

Will’s voice was honest and vulnerable. Mike itched to wipe the tears that were falling. But the intimacy around them seemed too fragile, like too sudden of a movement would make Will stop, close off, and hide from Mike again. 

“I guess I’m just…” his voice was small and he stopped. There was a beat of silence, soft sound of rain trickling the window outside, before Will lifted his head and his shoulder fell.

“I’m scared that those memories - that, that place - is going to ruin us,” Will turned, meeting Mike’s eyes again. His face was tattooed with the streaks of fallen tears and Mike felt his own in his eyes. “Like if the memories see me being open, they’ll know to invade anyway.”

“This, us, it’s my safe space. And I don’t know what I’d do without it.” 

Mike didn’t restrain himself any longer. Carefully,  pulled his free hand forward, taking it into Will’s shaky one. He curled the hand on his back to wrap now fully around Will, the ache in his chest needing him close. 

“Hey,” Mike’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. “You’re okay - We’re, we’re okay,” he assured, squeezing his hand. Will was still tense as he listened to Mike, tear covered hazel eyes matching Mike’s brown ones. 

“Nothing - that place, those memories,” Mike swallowed, shaking his head. “They’re not going to ruin us. They can’t.” 

Will’s eyes fluttered shut, a small nod shaking through him. Then, Mike felt as he leaned forward, his forehead finding Mike’s shoulder.

Will’s weight against him was grounding. The warmth of his body, the way his breaths came uneven and shaky, pulled Mike out of his own head for the first time in days. He pressed his chin lightly against Will’s hair, inhaling the faint scent of shampoo and paint.

The question sat on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to ask why Will kept it from him for so long. He wanted to know why he thought he had to deal with it on his own. 

But really, Mike knew he didn’t need to ask because he knew the answer. Will didn’t want to burden him, the same way Mike didn’t want to burden Will. 

Silence settled over them again, soft but heavy. From the hallway came the faint sounds of laughter and footsteps from their classmates, a small reminder of life going on just outside of their small world. Inside, though, everything felt still.

Will’s confession lingered in the air, raw and fragile, and Mike could feel the weight of his own pressing at the back of his throat, waiting to be let out.

“I get it,” Mike swallowed, voice dryer than it had been before. “I do, to an extent, I think.” 

Will shifted slightly to listen more closely, and the thought of losing that warmth, the only thing grounding him, hit Mike like a pit in his stomach.

In an attempt to keep Will there, body leaning against his, head on his shoulder, hand and hand, he tightened the arm around his waist. 

“I’ve been feeling the same way. About everything kind of coming back since we left Hawkins,” he let out a shaky breath, trying to calm himself to explain what’s been going on. 

“I can’t escape it either. I can’t -” he paused for a moment and as if to encourage him, he felt Will squeeze their hands. “I can’t do anything without my mind bringing me back there.”

“I can’t do anything without my mind bringing me back there,” he said finally, the words quiet but heavy. “I’ll be trying to study, or clean, or just… exist, and suddenly it’s like I’m right back in it. Like I never left.”

He felt Will move again, and this time, Mike let him. He dropped the hold on his back, letting it dangle behind him. Will pulled back only slightly, just enough to be facing him. Their hands were still knitted together and Mike’s eyes focused on that, the sight easier than the worried hazel eyes above. 

“I see it all over again,” he started, the way Will’s thumb rubbed over his palm encouraging. “I wake up and I swear I can still feel it. Sometimes I’ll look at the walls or the shadows and-” Mike stopped himself, the familiar feeling of vines wrapping around his neck returning. “I know it’s not real, but it feels real.”

Will’s hand tightened around his.

Mike exhaled slowly. “And I know it’s stupid, but I keep thinking how I should’ve done more.” He admitted, shoulders falling. “I should’ve protected you. Or El. Or any of them. But I didn’t. I.. I couldn’t. And now it’s like I can’t stop replaying it all.”

“It’s..” he let out an air of exhaustion. “It’s completely taken over my life. I mean, I’m barely functioning anymore.” He closed his eyes for a moment.

“I can’t clean or sleep or eat. I haven’t made a single new friend because everytime I try I just get… I don’t know angry that they don’t get it. They don’t know anything that happened and they can’t. And now I’m probably gonna get kicked out of school because I can’t shut my brain off long enough to do a single assignment.”

He let out a hot breath. He felt Will squeeze his hand again and with his other, pressed into the arm laying behind him. The touch helped. 

“I just want it to stop,” he swallowed, meeting Will’s eyes again. “I just… I thought when it ended it’d be over. But I’m still there.” 

“I’m still there.”

A soft silence settled over the room. Will’s thumb still traced slow circles over Mike’s palm, and as Mike drew in a shaky breath, it felt like a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying finally began to lift.

“You did do enough,” Will said finally, his voice soft but certain. “You did more than anyone ever could.”

Mike’s throat felt heavy and his shoulders dropped. “I couldn’t save them,” his voice was quiet and broken, barely audible. 

“But you tried,” Will’s voice was sure, eyes boring into Mike’s own as if he was telling him a fact. “And that’s more than enough.”

Mike nodded slowly before moving slowly forward and resting their heads against one another. 

He wanted to believe it. He tried to let the words sink in, but the guilt still lingered. Still, as Will’s head pressed against his own, the pressure in his chest eased. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t suffocating anymore.

The vines from his throat were evaporating and the air didn’t feel so toxic.

❦❧

The May sunlight spilled across the room through the blinds, hitting Mike square in the eyes. Not wanting to wake up just yet, he attempted to shield with light by burying his face in his arms. 

But he heard the faint sounds of pages turning and scribbling beside him, and it should have scared him since he was alone in the apartment when he fell asleep, but he knew there was only one person it could be. 

With new motivation, he turned his head to face the other side of the bed and took in the sight of Will. There was a textbook laying in front of where he sat leaned against the headboard and notebook in hand that he was scribbling down in. He was already dressed for the day, looking like he had been up for hours, which Mike knew he definitely had been. 

Will had probably come from his morning class, like he usually did on Thursdays, so they could spend a little time together before Mike went into work and Will went to his afternoon classes. It was a small routine they had gotten in over this last semester, though this would be the last one since this was the last week of classes, finals following, and then Will would move in for the summer. 

Carefully, Mike wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, burying his face in his hip to shield the sun. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he could convince Will to skip his class, he would call into work, and they would spend the day together, in bed, ignoring responsibilities. 

“Morning,” Will’s voice was like honey, soothing and sweet. His scribbling stopped and Mike felt him shuffle ever so slightly, before a hand was placed in his curls. 

“Mmm” was all Mike was able to get out in response, sleepiness still in his eyes. He squeezed his arms tighter against Will in hopes he’d read his mind and oblige. 

He heard Will’s laughter fill the room, bubbly and awake. “Aww,” he started, and Mike could practically hear the teasing smile he was sure was dancing across his face. “Did you not sleep well?”

“Slept so good I don’t want it to end,” Mike’s words were muffled by Will’s shirt, but he was sure he got at least some of it. Finally, he removed his face and looked up at Will, blinking away some sleep. “Come back to sleep with me,” he offered. 

Will smiled down at him, fingers still charting through Mike’s hair. “We can’t do that,” he said. “I have class in two hours and you have work in three.”

Mike groaned at the reminder, throwing his head back into its comfortable place in Will’s hip. “Just skip. I’ll call into work. We’ll spend the day in bed and watch all the Back to the Futures,” he offered, despite knowing the answer. 

Will wouldn’t skip class. He hardly ever did, especially on the last week of classes right before finals. His history class, which is what Mike assumed he was studying for when he woke up considering the history book on the bed, was already stressing him out. Really, just the final season all together was stressing Will out, as normal. Will was explaining all he had to do for school in these last couple weeks and, well, Mike was glad he took a break. 

Since their fight, Will had really made an effort to not isolate from Mike or hide when he wasn’t doing well. But during the hectic weeks towards the end of the semester, he could easily fall into those same patterns. Mike had worked on talking to him about it and so far this season, their fourth finals season, Will was doing better at taking breaks and not distancing from Mike. 

Will laughed again, lighter this time. Mike’s heart swelled. “As awesome as that sounds, I can’t skip class and you can’t miss work,” his hand briefly left his hair to press on his cheek before returning. 

Mike let out a noise somewhere between a whine and a scoff. Will was right, Mike couldn’t miss work. He now was an adult with bills to pay so just “missing work” wasn’t an option, as much as he would like it to be. 

After their first semester, Mike took Nancy’s advice and withdrew from school. It was scary at first. Everyone else in their group was at school, starting their lives, and Mike had taken a step back with no plan. 

He tried to move back to Hawkins but somehow that made him feel even worse. There were some nice things, like being back around his mom and Holly, but all of his friends and Will were off in other parts of the country. He felt alone, stuck with constant reminders of fallen memories.

Will had suggested Mike move back to the city after one especially bad day. He was hesitant of the idea at first, not really sure if just moving to the city with no real plan was a good idea. But Will had mentioned a couple of places he saw hiring, so he came to visit Will for a couple days, do a couple of interviews, and ended up landing a job at a comic book shop. 

So now Mike couldn’t just call in to spend the day wrapped under the comforter in the cheap apartment. He had to go to work so he could afford the cheap apartment. 

“But this is so much better than comic books and school,” he buried his face further into Will’s side. 

“School maybe,” Will hummed, fingers dancing through his curls. “But I don’t know about comic books.” 

Mike scoffed, lifting his head again to look at Will. “You think comic books are better than hanging out with me?” 

“Oh I know comic books are better than hanging out with you,” Will’s voice was playful and teasing. “I mean, you’ve read the Sins Past comics.” 

Mike’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “You did not just suggest that reading the Sins Past comics is better than hanging out with me.” He sat up, moving his arms from around Will’s waist to hold himself. “It’s objectively the worst Spider-Man comic.”

“I wasn’t suggesting it,” amusement clung to Will’s voice. “I was stating a fact.” 

“Okay, you’ve officially lost your mind,” he said, shaking his head and pointing at Will. “You’re telling me Sins Past, the comic that single-handedly ruined Spider-Man’s reputation, is better than me?”

Will shrugged. “I mean, it’s got plot twists,” he said casually. “You? You’re just predictable.”

Mike gasped. “Predictable?” 

As a way to beat Will’s claim, Mike lunged forward, catching him off guard in a tackle. The notebook that sat on Will’s knee flew onto the floor as Will was pushed back, his laughter filling the room. 

 “Mike!” Will shouted. “You’re insane!” He tried to get the upper hand against Mike, and typically, he would. Will was broader and stronger than Mike would ever be, but because of Mike’s surprise attack, he was able to have the upper hand. 

“Take it back!” Mike demanded, using the leverage from pushing Will down to sit on top of him. “Say Sins Past sucks!”

“Never!” Will tried to pull Mike off but Mike quickly used all his strength to pin him down.

“Say it!”

“Fine!” Mike could feel Will’s laugh, a childlike nostalgia filling the air. “It sucks! It’s the worst comic ever written!”

Mike stopped, moving his body down so his face was above Will’s. “You didn’t sound very sincere.”

“Okay, okay!” Will laughed again, arms trying to squirm free. “You’re better than every Spider-Man comic ever written. Happy?”

Mike’s grin widened. “Even Kraven’s Last Hunt?”

Will narrowed his eyes, a smile teasing his lips. “Don’t push it, Wheeler.”

Mike fell back beside him, both of them breathless, the mattress creaking beneath their laughter. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their uneven breaths and the faint hum of cars driving in the city below them.

Will turned his head on the pillow, cheeks still flushed from laughing. “You know, you’re kind of annoying,” he said, but there was no bite. 

Mike smiled, eyes still closed. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.” This time, a statement, no questioning undertone. 

Will huffed, pretending to think it over. “Unfortunately.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t heavy like it used to be. It was soft and comfortable. Mike turned his head, watching Will. His eyes were closed and his hair, which had been brushed and styled when Mike first woke up, was disheveled from their wrestling. He looked relaxed and calm, mirroring the feelings inside Mike’s chest. 

For the first time in a long time, Mike didn’t feel trapped by the past or haunted by what they’d lost. He felt present. And despite not knowing what the future would look like, whether he’d return to school or try to find an entry level job he didn’t hate, he knew one thing. 

Will would be here. And no matter what weight life threw their way, they’d carry it together. 

Will glanced at him, catching the small smile on Mike’s face. “What?”

Mike shook his head softly. “Nothing,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Will’s expression softened. “Yeah,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

The days no longer felt heavy. The air was no longer toxic. The vines around his neck were no longer there. 

And even though faint memories of the past still lingered, they no longer owned him.