Archive of Our Own ^beta

The trip back to Hawkins could have been better, in Will’s opinion. It’s not as if it was bad, per se, just weird. Jonathan was still sobering up the entire time, Argyle even less so. If Mom had been on the trip with them, she would’ve been furious. And, of course, there was the thing about entering Hawkins and finally realizing all the horrors that occurred.

And he can’t forget about Mike. Mike, to whom Will had poured out all his feelings under the disguise of Eleven. Mike, who had believed him wholeheartedly and hadn’t said another word to him since they entered Indiana. Mike, who will hopefully never ask Eleven about any sort of painting.

Though Will finds it a little bit shameful, he’s overall feeling okay about his confession. Okay, so what if he’d said a few things out of turn that could’ve jeopardized Mike and El’s relationship? Mike hadn’t known then, and he doesn’t know now. And he’ll never find out, if Will has anything to do with it. He and El are happy, anyhow. As far as he’s concerned, at least.

“Oh, shit,” Jonathan says, and Will looks out the window and sees why. Traffic is being directed around a large, and very very menacing, gate.

“What happened?” Will hears himself ask, though he already knows part of the answer. El debriefed them slightly on the drive back on who 001 is.

“One,” El says simply, and Will knows now she certainly cannot read thoughts.

“Do you think the others ended up alright?” Mike asks, almost too quiet for Will to hear. Besides Max is left unsaid, though no one in the van misses it. Except for Argyle, maybe.

Jonathan makes a noise between a scoff and a chuckle. “They made it out okay. Otherwise this place would already be in ruins.” He follows the directions the police officers give, and Will finds it hard to think it’s not already in that shape.

Mike feels the same way, too, for he cringes.

Will’s alone in the very back of the van, and he takes the opportunity to look behind them. This is where he grew up, his home, and 001 has done nothing but ruin it. Ruin him.

He can feel his presence, even now. It’s the same as it started three years ago, and Will worries it will always be a part of him, that he will always be a part of him.

They drive to the Wheeler house first because Mike and Jonathan want to see that they are okay for themselves. Will understands, and he’s lucky enough to not have to stand to the side with El and wait, for Dustin is there with Steve and Robin.

Dustin opts to stay behind with the two of them while the others head to the hospital. Will was never truly close to Max, but he knew El was, and that makes all the difference to him.

She’s pale, covered in casts with blood stained under her eyes. The room is silent except for Lucas speaking in the back and the heart monitor beeping slowly.

“Her heart stopped, for over a minute.”

Will realizes it then, that El had brought her back to life. She’s comatose, but alive. And that’s all that matters to him. She’s alive, and she can wake again.

He’s grateful when they go to Hopper’s cabin. El’s been wanting to return ever since they moved away, to California, and he knows it’s what she needs, even if it can’t fix much.

He can’t remember much of what happened once they arrived; it was all such a blur, with his conversation with Mike, reuniting with his mom, and the air of the Upside Down leaking into their dimension.

Even more irritating is the headache that comes back when they are in the field. It had started just earlier, when they were leaving the hospital, and while it is impractical for his current situation, it’s nothing that a little rest won’t fix. He assures himself of this, at least.

His mom, El, and Hopper stay behind at the cabin to rebuild while the rest of them go back to the Wheeler’s. Argyle is already gone, Jonathan voicing his worries over his safety. Will wants to reply, to talk about his involvement with purple palm tree delight, partially because he knows Nancy is unaware of it, but also so Jonathan can finally say he doesn’t want to go to college with Nancy anymore.

(Though, Will doubts this, and thinks it’s truly just Argyle’s presence in Jonathan’s life that makes him believe it.)

But he doesn’t speak, and neither does Mike, for the remaining drive.

Will’s drawing when the next strange thing happens.

A few days have passed, enough to understand that the headaches aren’t disappearing anytime soon. He remembers the air of the Upside Down giving him a similar time when he was stuck there, and by just asking around, he’s able to confirm that it is in fact the air. He doesn’t recollect the throbbing being so bad the first time around, but then again, 001 has only grown in power since then. It makes sense the air would be just as toxic.

The time passed is also enough for Will to understand that he’ll be staying at the Wheeler’s until further notice. He’s currently in the basement, Mike next to him. They’re both waiting for Lucas and Dustin to get there, so they can discuss exactly what’s going on. Just the four of them, until things settle down and everyone can group together again.

He groans at the red now on his sketchbook. Mike glances over and frowns. “Is that blood?”

Will wipes his nose. It is indeed blood. He brushes it off on his jeans, not noticeable any longer. “Must be the air,” he says.

Mike stares for a moment longer, and Will shifts under his gaze. It isn’t often they find themselves alone like this. It hasn’t been, not since Will went missing.

“Yea,” he finally replies. It feels like it takes longer for him to respond than it actually does, as if Will’s perception of time is messed up. He hasn’t felt that in a long time, but it’s familiar all the same.

Dustin arrives just before Lucas, both carrying puffy eyes. Will didn’t know Eddie, but just by Mike’s reaction to his death, and the stories Dustin had shared, he meant a lot to the group. It doesn’t mean it stings any less for Will, who had wanted nothing but to play D&D the previous summer, to which the group had promptly ignored. Then, as soon as he’s gone, they’re suddenly interested again.

Will can also tell that he’s far behind on the group’s connections. High school had done them a favor, it seems. They each found their places and stuck together despite differences. Will had been across the country, more of an outcast than anything. It was as if the people in California could tell something was wrong with him, like he shouldn’t be alive. He truly still didn’t believe he should be.

He shakes his head to himself. He’s not in California anymore. It’ll be easy to build up his friendships again. Even so, it’ll have to wait, until they can find Vecna and kill him once and for all. And end the center of everything that’s happened since November of 1983.

They’re in the middle of discussing any plans that come to mind when Dustin blurts, “What happened with you and El?”

Mike and El? Will turns to Mike, confused. They’re doing fine, last he heard. So what did Dustin hear?

Mike clears his throat. “We, uh, broke up. She doesn’t want to be with anyone with Vecna on the loose.” He was pointedly avoiding Will’s stare.

“Woah, when did this happen?” Will’s even more lost now.

“At your house. In California,” he clarifies, and suddenly he understands.

“Oh. I’m sorry. If I had known—“

Mike holds up a hand, silencing him. “But you didn’t. Really, it’s fine, Will. It’s…It’s why I reacted the way I did at the painting El commissioned.”

Now Will’s frowning. He can’t really remember Mike’s reaction because he had been so caught up in his emotions, but hearing it makes it seem insincere nonetheless.

He stands. “I’m gonna go get a drink. Any of you want something?” They all shake their heads no.

Will still feels Mike’s gaze on his back as he approaches the stairs. He’s just opening the door at the top when he hears Lucas whisper, “Dude, he never lets anyone commission paintings.”

The kitchen is empty when he enters, and the entire bottom floor is silent. Will faintly hears Dustin’s voice through the basement door, but there’s no noise otherwise. He chooses water, in hopes of helping with his head and preventing any more nosebleeds.

He feels that, now that he’s back in Hawkins, all his bad memories are resurfacing. He remembers the taunts thrown at him in elementary and middle school, how they made fun of him for his dad and divorced parents. He’d let go of them for years, but he’s absolutely certain that his haunted hometown is trying to kick him out again.

He stares out of the kitchen window, sipping his drink. The flakes in the air have begun to dissipate after the military started filling in the gates with concrete and metal plates. Will had wanted to snort when it came on the news; concrete isn’t going to hold a telepathic psychopath back, but he supposes they don’t know that.

His thoughts flit back to Mike. They always do, especially more now that they’ve been reunited. Moving to Lenora had been hard, but for only one reason, and that’s the fact that his best friend wasn’t there to do it with him. He had missed Dustin and Lucas more than he could express into words, but nothing could ever compare to the moment they drove out of Hawkins and Will finally realized that Mike was staying behind. He could distinctly remember crying for the first hour of the trip, and though they had dried up by their first break, it didn’t stop the dread he felt at having to start anew.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts, filling up his cup once more and going back to the basement. Will thinks of asking the party to call in everyone else, but that seems rude, especially with this being the first time they have been able to actually talk and spend time with one another since Will has returned.

He feels Mike’s eyes on him as he sits down with the group. A flutter makes its way through his stomach, and his attempts to ignore it prove fatal, the same as every other attempt he’s made in the past. It doesn’t help that now Mike seems to want to repair their friendship. The distance between them over the past year only seemed to make Will’s feelings hit him like a truck every time he even tries to think about Mike.

Will ignores Mike’s gaze, and almost thinks he’s off the hook when a pain sharper than before surrounds his head. He winces, and suddenly Mike is up and alert.

“Will? What’s wrong?” Will looks at him, and Mike’s back to his younger self, the one who constantly checked on Will. Who checked up on him even if he shivered in class. Sometimes, Will even partially sees 12-year-old Mike when he stares at him long enough.

“Nothing.” Will gestures to his head. “Just a headache.”

Lucas eyes him warily. “A..headache?” Dustin’s looking at him now, too, and he feels like he’s been put on the spot.

“It’s just from the air. It-uh-was a common occurrence in the Upside Down. Just wasn’t expecting it, is all.”

Everyone relaxes, visibly, and he wonders for a moment what it was all about. It’s only a headache, after all.

Will’s looking at himself in the bathroom mirror at the middle school. He’s younger—so much younger—and frail, and so small and babyish it’s hard to believe that this was the boy who was stuck in the Upside Down for a week.

He remembers this moment, now that he’s reliving it. It was before his kidnapping, which is probably why he didn’t remember it at first. He tends to forget the memories from Before, the ones During and After being much more vivid, especially as he grows older.

Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are all waiting for him in the hall, and they all walk to lunch together. They’re all laughing, bumping soldiers and being kids, real kids. Mike tugs Will closer, both of them smiling in the moment.

Why is he watching this memory play out? Not that he’s complaining, of course. It’s just that he hasn’t felt such happiness in a long time. Not like he felt here.

He’s now out of his younger self’s body, looking at them from across the hallway. They all turn into the lunchroom, their laughter fading away. Will is content in following them, in finishing the memory and wishing he could truly be there. He never gets the chance, for the lights flicker and the entire school goes dark. No sound echoes through the halls anymore, or any nearby rooms.

Will feels lost. Well, he’s almost certain this didn’t happen back then.

The lights flicker back on, and Will sees vines coating the walls. Particles float through the air, the hue of his surroundings is blue, and a voice is behind him.

“William. Your time is almost up.”

He whips around, holding the sleeve of his jacket up against his mouth. There’s no one there, but he runs away anyway. He knows this school like the back of his hand, but despite it all, his panic distracts him, and it isn’t until he passes a clock on the wall that he realizes he’s stuck in a loop.

But for some reason, he can’t find the strength to move once he’s already stopped. He stares at the clock, where the hour and minute hand are nearly lined up at the top, the second hand just shy of the same spot.

When it hits twelve, the dying sound of a grandfather clock plays throughout the school. The lights flicker, and when they stay on for good, he’s back in the real world. Everything has warped around him, putting him in a different hallway. The exit is to his right, a single classroom to his left. He wants to leave, he has to get out of here. But something is calling him to the room, and he follows it. When he approaches, the door, originally shut, creaks open, allowing him to hear just a sliver of the action inside.

Will tries to back away, to change his mind and flee the school, but his dream has already sealed his fate, and he will be watching the next memory. He hesitates before pushing the door open.

He’s outside, on a playground. Kids are running all around him, and he ignores them as he walks forward. They do the same, but run around him, as if they sense his presence but don’t exactly see him.

There’s another younger Will in front of the slide, and he’s frowning at the two boys in front of him.

“Mouth Breathers,” older Will whispers, and he walks up the stairs to have a better view of the memory.

“We’re not letting you down until you admit it.” It’s Troy and James, the former smirking down at young Will.

Young Will juts his chin out, standing firm. “My mom says not to lie.”

James laughs, leaning over Will with his hands just above his knees. “Well then you better listen to her, freak.”

The more young Will resists, the harsher their insults become. Older Will hadn’t ever realized just how much their words stung until he was hearing them again, years later.

He wonders where Mike is. Usually by now, he’d be to Will’s rescue, getting them far away before they’d go off and play or talk or do something else. But it doesn’t appear he is coming this time.

Both Wills wince as the words are repeated again and again, and the older one finally decides to step in.

“Enough, both of you.” His words fall on deaf ears, but he continues to say them, continues to act as if he were Mike. He channels his stubbornness, his refusal for mercy. This time, it doesn’t work, but then again, when had it ever worked for Will?

He takes a step back when Troy and James grow taller and both take several steps forward. Younger Will looks at them both, fear shining in his eyes, and he turns and flees.

Older Will, now by himself, watches them carefully, but still finds his heart racing. He sees, though doesn’t quite believe, them both merge into one and their voices grow deeper.

Will doesn’t back down at the sight before him: it’s a person, certainly, but he looks as if he’s been taken by the Upside Down. 001, he thinks.

Troy and James stop chanting, and 001 looks down upon Will. His voice booms out across the now empty playground, “You and I have accomplished such great things together. But your purpose has been served.”

His hand rises above Will’s face, and he feels drawn to it, as if it is the only thing that can save him now. “When it’s time, do not resist.”

Will wakes in a cold sweat. He’s in Mike’s basement and hears Jonathan snoring nearby. Will takes a moment to sit up and catch his breath. He can tell he’d been thrashing in his sleep, for his body and joints ache. He wipes his forehead, breathing a sigh of relief. None of it was real. He’d known, deep down, that it hadn’t been, but the end was so realistic…

He shakes himself of the thought. No, he’s fine. 001 was gravely injured from Nancy’s hits, she’d told everyone. He wasn’t in his head, and he wouldn’t bother anyone for a long time.

Still, he can’t help but wonder how exactly everyone was attacked by him. He supposes it’s not the time to ask such curious questions, not when they have to find 001 first.

He lays back down on the couch, resting his arm underneath his head. He stares at the ceiling for a moment longer before closing his eyes and falling to sleep.

His nightmares continue for the next few days, startling but not surprising him. In California, they’d taken pause, as if Hawkins was truly the one haunted, and not Will himself.

His headaches are also persistent, almost never giving him a moment’s rest. They make him lash out at others if they’re talking too much, or too loud, or if they’re so bent on finding Vecna and not taking a second to just breathe. It’s strange, though; this is the case for everyone except for Mike.

Mike, who he’s now alone with in his room.

“It’s weird,” Mike starts. Will looks up from his sketchbook, shutting it to give him his full attention. “Being back in Hawkins, I mean. Now that it’s in this state.”

“Yea,” says Will. If he’s truthful, he’s not sure what to say in response to that. Of course it’s weird, and scary, too. He continues, “I mean, it’s as if we’ve seen it at its worst and best.” He sighs. “Sometimes, I just wish we could be young again.”

Mike nods along. “Before any of this happened.”

They exchange smiles, and Will’s stomach tightens so much he feels like he’ll be sick. His face gets warm, and he turns away before anything tries to go downhill.

“Hey,” Mike reaches for Will’s hand—grasps it. “We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. You hear me? We’re gonna find that sorry excuse of a monster, kill him, and make sure nothing ever comes back to haunt us. Not from the Upside Down.” His eyes are shining, and Will can’t quite discern why. “And, and afterwards, we’ll finish off high school and play as many D&D campaigns as you want. If you still want to.” He looks guilty, and Will scoots closer to him.

“I’m always up for a game,” he tells him, and he knows, despite it all, that it’s true. Despite the fact that the party had stopped playing with him that one summer. Despite the fact that they joined a different group once he left. Despite the fact that he’d lost his love for playing when he was in California.

Will glances at the clock on Mike’s desk and curses. “I’m supposed to be at the hospital with Max.” He never turned down the opportunity to visit her with Lucas whenever he asked. The hospital’s still recovering from the amount of people injured during the ‘earthquake,’ so he also takes the chance to help clean up around the place. It’s comforting, having that bit of the day to himself.

He grabs his sketchbook and pencils, shoving them into his bag. “I’ll be back later.”

Mike stays seated as Will grabs a few extra things. “Do you want me to come with you?” The question has Will stumbling a bit, and he turns back to him.

Will takes a few seconds to reply because his eyes are just so goddamn hypnotizing that it’s hard to even think when he’s staring into them. “No, it’s all good. I figured you’d want to go hunting for signs of One.”

Mike shrugs. “Nancy’s taken the initiative. Besides, I can’t help her even if I tried. That’s not my strong suit.”

Will laughs, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Right.”

The hospital is not as busy as it was the last time he was there. Clearly patients had healed from their minor injuries, leaving Will with plenty of breathing room in the elevator, thank goodness.

He knocks on Max’s door lightly before pushing it open. There’s Lucas, reading a book to her. He looks up, sighing in relief. Shutting the book, he gets up and hugs Will.

“I got worried you wouldn’t show,” he mumbles into Will’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I got caught up with Mike.”

Lucas pulls away and squints at him. Will realizes the implications of his statement.

“We were talking about Hawkins,” he adds, cheeks only reddening at Lucas’s smirk.

“Okay, Byers. I’m starving, so you stay here while I go try to get something out of the vending machine.” He claps a hand on Will’s forearm and walks past him to the exit.

Will sighs once Lucas is gone, taking the seat by the window so Lucas can still sit by Max. He stares at her for a second, wishing he could do something, anything to bring her back. She didn’t deserve what 001 gave to her, and yet, she still ended up here, in a hospital bed and a coma.

He hadn’t ever hung out with her all that often, but from his few interactions with her, he found himself seeing similarities between her and Mike. Both stubborn, both with fiery personalities, both having close connections with El. He finds it strange that way, how he never did attempt to grow closer with her, while enjoying Mike’s company the most out of the party.

He’s still in his thoughts when a chill runs across his neck. His hand automatically reaches for the spot, and he looks out the window. The height is beginning to make him dizzy the longer he stares, but the clicking coming from his left is what prevents him from looking away. See, he thinks it will just go away if he ignores it well enough.

It doesn’t, and when he finally turns around, he’s in Castle Byers, nestled deep in the woods of the Upside Down. Next to him is his younger self, and he’s repeating lyrics from “Should I Stay, Or Should I Go?” He cringes at the song, but he’s not sure whether it’s better than the Demogorgon outside of the fortress or not.

He hates having to relive these memories, but it’s as if Hawkins has given him no choice.

He waits beside his younger self and takes the time to observe Castle Byers. It’s still just as he remembers it being, still just as comforting to him as it was throughout his childhood. He briefly recalls tearing it all down after his argument with Mike that one summer, an event that changed Will’s view on himself, and now has him wanting to escape the memory.

Will gets up, having to crouch so he can get out. Everything is eerily quiet and damp, the twigs and vines squishing under his feet. He makes his way to his house—his old house, he corrects himself—and opens the door. He stops, heart beating wildly in his chest. No, it’s not real.

But Mike is in front of him, tied against the wall with vines, and looking so dead that Will rushes to him and cups his face in his hands.

“Mike, come on, wake up.” Will slaps his face lightly, but all it does is make his head hang forward. He has to step back, to look at his entire form with a hand cupped over his mouth.

He can feel the tears welling in his eyes, but he can’t cry, not while his life is at risk.

A whimper from behind causes him to whip his head around, and he nearly gags at the sight. Jonathan is here, too, so cut up from an attack that he was hardly recognizable.

“Will,” he croaks, and Will moves to kneel next to his brother.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, okay? Don’t move, I got you.” He reaches around Jonathan to pull him up, and Jonathan gasps.

“You…”

He goes silent, for so long that Will speaks up again. “What is it?”

“You did this.” His tone is so harsh that Will drops him to the floor, and this time he doesn’t make a sound.

“William.”

He’s shaking when he turns around. Just like in his nightmares, there’s no one there, but the voice is the same, as are the words.

“We’ll meet soon.”

There are footsteps near him, and the house around him fades. Mike’s body is the last to disappear, leaving an image in his head that is sure to haunt him forever. He opens his eyes, gasping.

He takes several deep breaths, putting his head in his hands. What was that? A nightmare, hallucination, vision? He’d nearly forgotten he was in the hospital before, too carried away in his panic to really focus on the reality of it all.

It’s then he discovers the footsteps were signaling Lucas’s return, and he’s so grateful for the moment he gets to compose himself that he doesn’t even notice him finally coming in the room.

He has a bag of Skittles in his hand, and he tosses Will one with Reese’s Pieces. He catches it, following it up with a smile. “Thanks,” he says, tucking them into his backpack.

“I hate the vending machines in his place,” Lucas huffs, taking his seat beside Max. “They always eat my coins. Took me four tries to even get those.”

Oh.” Will frowns. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I would’ve been fine, really.”

Lucas raises a brow. “You think I haven’t noticed?”

He feels like a deer caught in headlights. “Noticed what?” He can’t know, he can’t know, hecantknow—

“The bags under your eyes? You don’t have to talk about it, but you can at least be honest. Can’t be easy if you’re having nightmares.” A flare of concern makes its way through Lucas’ expression.

Will takes a breath. Being vulnerable is something he’s never been comfortable doing, even in front of his mom and Jonathan. Just because he’s older doesn’t mean it’s gone away. “It’s like…being back here. I thought I’d be fine, I mean, things were calm in Lenora. But here, here is where all my worst memories are, no matter how much Hawkins means to me. They’re all…resurfacing, now that I’m back.”

Lucas is fiddling with his hands, now facing Will instead of Max. “These memories…they’re the only unusual thing happening, right?”

Will has two options: saying yes, the partially true answer, the correct answer in his mind; or no, the answer that feels right to him internally, but something he just can’t admit to himself.

He’s a coward, though, and a liar. “Yea, if that’s what you call unusual. I’ve always had nightmares, Lucas. I was just better at hiding it when it was a normal occurrence.”

Lucas lets out a breath, as if the other answer would have been much, much worse. “Right, yea. I was just making sure. Can never be too careful now.” He looks back at Max, and Will follows his gaze.

Max, who might as well be stuck in a coma forever.

He leaves the hospital with a heavy heart and an even heavier conscience. After almost a year of no darkness present in his mind, he’d gotten used to it. Now, lying about how he was feeling, about what was happening, to a party member no less? It’s out of character.

It’s not to say he hasn’t been lying for a while, but that’s unrelated. And completely justified.

The sun is beginning to set when he arrives at Mike’s house. He walks inside, giving a short greeting to Mrs. Wheeler, who’s making dinner, before going down to the basement. Jonathan and his mom are both absent from the area, and though he’s unsure as to where they could be, he makes sure he doesn’t worry himself too much.

Will’s learned that when he gets too worried, things start to go wrong. So he simply unpacks his bag and lays on the couch for a little bit. He knows it’s futile to even try to sleep, especially with dinner on the horizon, but the darkness of the room adds comfort, if not for just a moment.

Before he knows it, his eyes are shutting and the world around him disappears.

Will wakes to Mike’s voice, calling his name. “Will?”

He grumbles, tucking himself further into the couch. He hums to signal that he’s listening.

“It’s time to eat,” says Mike simply. Will’s eyes flutter open, and they find Mike’s instantly. It’s hard to see much in the dark of the room, but neither of them seem to mind, and they’ll be upstairs soon enough that it’s not even an issue.

Will’s eyes shut again, and he tunes out the world around him. He’s just so tired, and he only really needs five more minutes before he’ll be up for the trek to the dining room, which isn’t even that long anyway, and, well, everyone can just go ahead and eat without him, since he can always eat after he’s taken a nap.

He feels more rather than sees the couch dip beside his legs, and Mike is touching his arm. “Tired, huh?” He can’t find the energy to respond, although his presence is comforting enough to get a nod out of him. Mike laughs, a sound so familiar and carefree that all Will wants to do is hold him tight, as if he were a teddy bear, or something more than just a friend.

That snaps Will out of his fatigued mind, and he sits up. Mike’s hand leaves Will’s arm, falls to his side quickly, like it was never there to begin with. Will misses his touch already, but he forces himself to rise from the couch, to walk to the stairs.

“Not tired enough to miss one of your mom’s meals.” He smiles, looking back at Mike. He’s already making his way to follow Will to the kitchen.

He snorts. “Right. That’s what you’ve always said.”

Dinner is loud, like all the meals are at the Wheeler’s. His mom and Jonathan had returned sometime while he was asleep, but odd looks from the both of them were being tossed his way as he ate. Or, as he tried to.

Will’s talking with Nancy when Jonathan finally addresses him.

“Will?” The entire table quiets down, as if sensing something was going down. He finds himself glancing at Mike, whose brows are scrunched together. They both turn to Jonathan.

“What?”

“Mom and I are driving to California tomorrow morning to pack.”

Will’s fork clatters to his plate. “I thought we were waiting until things settled down again.”

“It has, sweetie. Besides—” His mom glances at Jonathan and Mrs. Wheeler. “They’re talking about doing a lockdown soon. It starts in three days, and they don’t want more than two people entering Hawkins at a time.”

He’s starting to panic; all his things in his room, all his paintings…he can’t have either of them—or anyone, for that matter—seeing them. No way. “So, what? I just don’t get to go, I don’t get a say in this?”

If they look at each other one more time, he’s going to lose his mind. “Well, Mom and I just think it’d be better if you stayed here. We’ll be fine packing everything on our own. It’s just a couple days, Will.”

Yea, except they’ll have to look through all his things, and after the countless drawings they’ll find, he’ll be forced to lay himself bare, and both will hate him, will never look at him the same.

Instead of saying any of this, he picks up his fork, mumbling, “I guess.”

Mike’s staring at him again, but he’s afraid that if he meets his gaze, his face will reveal everything. So he keeps his eyes on his plate and doesn’t say another word for the rest of the meal.

He’s restless that night, knows that if he sleeps, the only thing that will greet him will be nightmares. The headaches have finally died down, a result of being exposed to the air for so long, he supposes.

Will hears Jonathan snoring again, his mother’s breaths coming out evenly. Good, he thinks. They’ll need it for the trip. Will knows they think he’s safer here, but he’s starting to believe they should’ve just stayed in California. At least then, he wouldn’t have to deal his feelings for Mike making an abrupt return. As if they’d ever left.

He goes to the shelter the following day, mainly to distract himself from the trip. He hadn’t slept at all the previous night, too nervous of what sleep would bring; he busied himself in planning how he was going to act around Mike.

It’s still been slightly awkward, as if they still haven’t quite healed from the summer of Starcourt Mall. Will thinks it’s reasonable for him, but for Mike? He hadn’t seemed all that sorry when he’d spit those words at him, but it’d also been a while since he’d truly known Mike.

Will wants to be close to him again, he does, but he just doesn’t know how it’s possible.

Okay, he’s not only volunteering at the shelter to forget about the trip; he wants to forget about Mike. For just an hour or two. He’s been trying to ignore the curl in his stomach whenever their eyes meet. He’s been trying to ignore how his heart races whenever Mike says his name. He’s been trying to ignore his love for his best friend, if they even fit into that category anymore.

He picks up a few boxes by the office as he walks inside the middle school. They were currently out of session due to the…earthquake, and, if Will was correct in his speculations, none of the schools in Hawkins would be back until August, nearly three months away.

“Will!” He nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of his name, and he turns to see Dustin, Steve, and Robin, if he remembers her name well.

He leans into Dustin’s hug, unable to reciprocate with his hands full. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Ah, you know, volunteering. Same as you. Figure it doesn’t hurt the community.” He’s grinning, but Will sees that spark of sadness in his eyes, the sign of grieving. “Where’s Mike?”

Will left early in the morning, eating breakfast by himself and without telling a single soul where he was going. Oh, well. He can blame it on his mom and Jonathan.

“He didn’t want to come,” he lies, because what’s the harm in another one to add to the ever-growing list, anyway?

Dustin frowns. “Oh.”

Steve steps forward. “Here, I’ll take the boxes.”

Will doesn’t know Steve well, never having the chance to hang out with him. All he knows is that he would bully Jonathan, and that in itself causes him to shy away from his outstretched arms. He shifts his hold. “I-uh, got it, thanks.”

Steve seems to realize where his thoughts are, and steps back without further argument. “Yea, man, no problem.”

And so Will is able to distract himself through Dustin and his other friends. They aren’t so bad, in all honesty. In fact, it’s sort of nice to have a change in who he’s around.

He’s lost in his thoughts, folding clothes that have been donated, when he hears it. The ticking of a clock. It’s not like the clock in the basement at Mike’s, more like an older one. He can’t place the exact clock until he sees it, stuck in the wall to his right.

The others seem as if they don’t even hear it, despite how loud it is. Will doesn’t remember the grandfather clock being here when he entered, but again, he’s been distracting himself.

He stares at it, bracing himself for the chime of noon, but when it arrives, it sounds more ominous than anything. As if signaling that the end is near.

The chime echoes and fades away, but only because Dustin is looking at him with a worried expression, not unlike Lucas’s from the day before.

“You zoned out there for a second. You good?”

“Yea, it’s just…” Will peers over at the wall again, and feels sick to his stomach when he doesn’t see it. “You didn’t see that?” Didn’t hear it?

“Uh,” Dustin turns around to follow Will’s gaze. “No?”

Will takes a deep breath, setting down the t-shirt in his hands. “Must be hallucinating. I haven’t been sleeping great,” he admits.

Steve enters the conversation. “Do you need anything to help?” He’s trying to be nice, to convince Will he’s harmless, but he just can’t buy it.

“It’ll hopefully die down the longer I’m back here. Tonight should be better.”

There’s a moment of silence, before Dustin speaks up again. “You know what we should do? Go and visit your old place. It’s still vacant, as far as I know.” He wiggles his brows.

Will turns the idea over in his head, and smiles. His mom would kill him for breaking and entering, would be even angrier at his exposure to dust. He’s still angry over everything; how could he not be? Maybe she needed to be scared, just so she could realize that Hawkins isn’t safe, that they need to get out.

He’s being selfish, he knows. Maybe it’s paranoia, or his lack of sleep, that’s causing it, but he can’t quite find it in himself to care.

“Yea, sounds fun.” He shrugs.

“Hey, if you kids are going somewhere you shouldn’t be, I’m going with you,” Steve pipes in. Dustin rolls his eyes.

“Okay, Mom. We’ll wait until tomorrow, to get the Party together.” Dustin and Will share smiles with each other.

“I’m going too, by the way,” says Robin, and Will whips towards her voice, forgetting she was even there. He likes Robin. She has this sort of energy around her that makes her seem comforting, accepting. Maybe she is.

He secretly hopes she is.

Obviously, they couldn’t invite Hopper and El, since one is technically dead and the other is soon to become a fugitive, but Lucas and Mike are able to tag along.

They go to the house in Steve’s car, everyone chatting lightly with one another. Will and Mike are in the back, the very back, and suddenly Will is back in the van in the middle of the desert, presenting a painting to Mike with a made-up purpose.

He forces himself to forget it, to focus on the true adventure of the day—finally going back to his house. Nobody had told the adults where they were heading, but the responding attitudes got their meanings across: stay safe, don’t do anything stupid, and keep an eye on each other. And Will plans on following through with each one. He wants a fun adventure, for once, not a life-threatening one.

He watches Mike as he talks to Lucas and Dustin, leaning over the seat to stick his head into their space.

Mike's hair is still long, almost touching his shoulders, and making Will hope he'll cut it soon. He's always been animated when he describes something he loves, and right now he's only proving it. His hands flow with his words, eyes glowing as he explains what he's talking about more and more. Will's not entirely sure what the topic is—he'd zoned out a few minutes prior—but just getting to see Mike so happy is worth it. Will never catches him smiling anymore, at least as he's observed from afar.

Will has loved Mike for as long as he can remember. It might have begun as friend crush, but there'd always been that spark of something more that Will felt. It's overwhelmed him for years now, with every shared look, any sort of skin-to-skin contact, anything that showed Will that Mike cared about him. He loves him so much that it hurts. He loves him to the point where he knows he can never tell Mike how he feels.

Maybe in another life, where he's not seen as a freak when he likes a boy. Or where they're isolated from society, so there's no risk of any human interaction. Or where they're a cleric and a paladin, interlinked in the battles they fight together.

When he finally looks away, he meets Robin's gaze in the rearview mirror. She had been watching him stare at Mike for who knows how long. Will breaks the eye contact, looking down at his hands. His face is on fire, and he can only hope that no one notices.

It works, for as soon as he thinks this, they're pulling up to his house.

He’s the last to exit the car, letting Mike get out through the trunk first. Will stands out front, gazing at the house, and he remembers the day they moved away. He remembers looking back and watching the party stare at their departure.

Nobody else moves to go inside, so he goes first. If the house hasn’t been inhabited since they left, the key should be right where his mom left it. He lifts the rug and sighs in relief, as if his life depends on the presence of the object. His hands are shaking when he inserts it into the lock and twists. The door opens without protest, and he takes his first true step into his old life.

Dust coats every place of contact, the light from the outside only illuminating the particles in the air. He sees his nightmare from several nights before flash in his head, remnants of the vines and Mike’s mauled body on the wall, Jonathan’s face-down on the floor. Will has to keep walking, has to ignore the visions, so no one suspects anything.

He’s fine. Traumatized after four years of the same shit, but fine.

He runs his fingers across the countertop, staring at the dust that greets him. Mike’s suddenly behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Want to see your room?”

The Party had spent the last half hour reminiscing about everything they'd done in the Byers house; while Mike's house was for the D&D campaigns, Will's was for the times when they were tired, wanted something more calming.

So, naturally, they played countless board games, hide and seek, and tag.

Dustin snorts, pointing towards the one of the walls. "That's where Lucas slammed into the wall and made a hole."

They all rush over, and Mike sneaks a glance at Will.

He's been distant lately, shutting down any voiced concerns. And, okay, Mike’s worried, but what best friend wouldn’t be? He isn’t even sure he’s deserving of that title anymore, but he still sees Will as his best friend, and he hopes, desperately, that it’s reciprocated.

Mike tunes back into the conversation, drawing his eyes from Will. “…can still see the crack from where they patched it,” Lucas cackles.

“Jonathan spent an entire day adding plaster and waiting for it to dry.” Will is laughing along with him, and Mike finds himself cracking a smile, too.

The group splits after, and while the others stay in the living room and kitchen, Mike goes back to Will’s room. Will didn’t spend a long time in there, which Mike found strange at first, until he explained.

“All I can think about is how he was in my head for so long after,” he’d said. “I spent so much of my time holed up in here, that now, I only see what he saw. The drawings and posters on the walls meant nothing to him, so they meant nothing to me.” He shook slightly, and Mike grasped his shoulder firmly.

“He’s not here anymore, okay? He’s gone. He’s gone.” The rest of what he thought had gone unsaid: maybe not forever, but he won’t bother you again.

Mike will make sure of it.

Now, he slides down to the floor, imagining where Will’s furniture had once stood. His desk, up by the window, with his countless crayons and pieces of lined paper. A lot of his drawings would find their way into Mike’s hands, and with that, he’d put them inside a binder. He’d collected them for years, flipping through them the most while Will was missing.

He imagines doing it now, analyzing his progression over the years. From people with bigger heads than bodies, to more intricate, detailed landscapes. From landscapes to specific objects, from specific objects to images depicting their D&D campaigns.

Then it would stop.

Because Will stopped drawing for him the summer of Starcourt Mall, and the last illustration he’s seen of Will’s is the painting he made for Mike.

He remembers staring at it in awe, almost tuning out Will’s words as he checked out every detail.

You’re the heart.

Will had put a heart onto Mike’s shield to emphasize that fact, and in turn, Mike still has it rolled up, next to his desk, as if it doesn’t even matter.

It matters to him, matters so much coming from Will, and yet Mike always seems to forget that Eleven had it commissioned.

Her opinion matters to him, of course it does, it always will. But it strikes him as odd, given the timing of everything. She broke up with him in California, but didn’t tell Will to not give it to him. Maybe it was outside of their relationship boundaries, closer to a friend thing.

Mike’s trying to convince himself of this. Trying so hard, but nothing’s adding up the way he wants it to.

He sighs, leaning his head against the wall. They need to find Vecna, need to find him before he does anything else, but Mike is more concerned about his relationship problems to even consider it. After a moment, he gets up, wincing. He may only be sixteen years old, but God, why was getting up from the ground so damn hard?

He shakes out his arms before leaving the room behind. He greets everyone—sits down on the floor where the dining table used to be. Lucas follows suit, as does Dustin.

Mike can admit to himself that they haven’t felt like a party in a long time. It hurts like absolute hell, especially in knowing that they used to be his only escape, once upon a time. The fairytale ended when Will disappeared, both times. Now, Max is in a coma because of Vecna, and he has no idea what to even look for as a sign of his presence—

Shit, he has no idea what he’s doing. Well, maybe asking someone who does know would be beneficial.

Mike has to convince himself he’s smarter than he seems.

He glances at Lucas, frowning slightly. The week has been so long, and it feels like an insensitive time to ask, but—

“Hey, random question. How did Vecna first…show himself to Max?” He speaks before he can register the words coming out of his mouth, and Lucas freezes.

“Well, there were symptoms to his curse. We wouldn’t have known otherwise,” he says. Dustin gives him a cautious look.

“I can explain, Lucas, you don’t—“

“No.” Dustin backs off immediately as Lucas’s tone. “Sorry, I just…Nevermind. Vecna, he feeds off of people’s worst memories. For Max, it was her mom.” And Billy goes unsaid, and Mike doesn’t miss it. He wants to know everything. It just…feels important, like he needs this.

“But it started with the headaches.”

Steve and Robin are listening in now, have crept closer to the trio as they’ve talked. Mike feels briefly that something is off, but then Lucas is continuing to speak, and he tunes back in.

“They were bad, as far as Max noted. Came in random bursts, varied in length. Then she had that nosebleed during class.” Lucas shivers. “It was like El’s nosebleeds; brief but enough to know there was something strange in the air.”

Mike’s blood runs cold. He can hardly hear the rest that Lucas spits out through the panic coursing through his veins.

“She started having nightmares, and with that, hallucinations. Of her worst memories, or even of her friends in trouble. And then…”

The house is silent, and Mike finally speaks.

“Where’s Will?”

Will sits in front of where Castle Byers used to stand, now nothing more than a few scattered limbs. He’d never had to chance to come back out and collect everything that had been inside, and so they were lost to the woods.

It feels like it was the only thing that had ever tied Will down to his childhood, and seeing it gone sparks slight relief. His only safe space is gone, but at least there’s no sense of embarrassment that follows his every thought.

He’s calculated now, after an experience at school where no one called him names or whispered insults behind his back. He learned how to hide, and it’s stuck. Around everyone.

Except for one, but Will doesn’t want to think about him right now. Not his stubbornness, nor his courage, nor his pent up anger, nor his never-ending love for his friends. Not his smile, nor his calloused hands (from his guitar, Will knows, even if Mike won’t admit it,) nor his eyes, nor his recently cut hair.

Somehow, Mike makes Will feel like he’s flying, but holds him down to reality at the same time. Maybe it’s because the idea of them actually having a good ending is not possible. Not in this universe.

The snap of a branch has him jumping, and he turns, ready to run. He relaxes when he sees it’s only Mike.

“There you are! You scared the shit out of me,” he chuckles, but still reaches to crash Will into a death grip. Will hugs him back, laughing all the same.

“I’m fine, Mike. Just…remembering, is all.”

Mike’s brows furrow. “About that…Vecna is after you. He going to use your memories against you. We need your favorite song, stat.” He pulls Will to his feet, wasting no time in pulling him back towards the house.

Will falters. “One’s doing what?”

Mike huffs, reaching for his hand again. Will moves it. “He’s going to attack you, kill you. You need to stay with someone at all times, that way we can at least stop it.”

Will crosses his arms. “When did you find all this out?”

“Just now.” Mike sighs. “Why are you acting weird? Just come with me, and—what’s your favorite song, again?”

Will follows him, looking back at Castle Byers. It had been making him more paranoid than he’d originally thought, so much so that he hadn't even trusted Mike. “It’s—“

“Oh, thank God Mike found you.” Dustin gives him a bear hug. “We got scared shitless when we realized you were gone. You can’t just do that, man.”

Will laughs, uneasily. "I didn't know it was a crime to go off on my own."

"It's not," Mike says quickly. "Of course it's not."

"Now, as for everything else about you..." Dustin trails off.

Will releases himself from Dustin's grip, taking a moment to really see him. "What?" He looks towards Mike, who's now glaring at him.

Something isn't right. Something...

"I never did realize how much of a freak you are, Will." Lucas appears, the three of them surrounding Will. What the hell?

"What's going on?" is all he can get out.

Dustin and Lucas laugh.

He turns towards Mike, feeling utterly helpless. "Mike, what's going on?"

Mike laughs with them.

What kind of nightmare is this? They don't...they can't know, right? He's hidden it for so long.

"What, you thought we wouldn't find out?" Mike's stopped laughing, instead opted to stare Will down. He feels like a dog, tail tucked between his legs as Mike stalks closer. "You don't hide it well," he hisses.

Will can't help it: tears start to well in his eyes. "I-I thought--"

"You're a mistake."

"A freak," Dustin and Lucas echo.

He doesn't see his friends anymore; all he can see is Troy and James.

For once, he’s thankful he’s good at running, for he shoves past them all and heads straight back to the house. He prefers Steve’s company over theirs.

Their taunts disappear in the wind, as if they didn’t plan on following him.

He stops on the porch, fingers gripping the pillar as he inhales steady gulps of air. Then he pushes himself into the house.

The first thing Will notices is that Steve and Robin are not inside. The second is that Lonnie is sitting at the table—the table that shouldn’t be there—seemingly waiting for him. Beer bottles line the countertops, leaving little space for anything else.

Lonnie gives Will a rare smile. It holds no truth to it, they both know, but neither say a word about it. “Come sit, have a beer.”

He doesn’t move for the beer once he sits across from him. His hands wring in his lap, and he looks down.

Will’s starting to get an inkling of what’s happening to him.

“I wanted to apologize for the whole thing earlier.” Lonnie waves a hand in the air. “The rabbit.”

Will remembers the scene as if it’d happened only yesterday.

He carries on, ignoring Will’s lack of response. “You know I’m always hard on you because I care, right? Can’t have you being picked on for something you’re not. Right?” He eyes Will, raising a brow.

Will nods furiously, his fingers picking more rapidly at his cuticles.

Lonnie takes a swig of his beer. “Yea, can’t have my son known as the queer in town.”

He winces. Scoots the chair back slightly. It screeches against the wooden floors, and Lonnie glares at him.

“Isn’t that right, William?” He gets up out of his chair, and Will fumbles to do the same.

He hasn’t said a word, and his father can still find a way to yell at him.

His cheek is burning before he can even register what’s happened. His hand flies to his face, pressing hard to stop the burn.

Lonnie’s face blurs in and out of Will’s vision; he can’t even tell what’s happening through the tears. He feels his free hand grasp an object on the counter. Lonnie’s oblivious.

“I want you to listen to me well, William. If you ever hang out with that Mike kid again, I’ll be sure to let the entire town know what you are: a—“

Will slams his face with one of his beer bottles and races back out of the house. He can hear Lonnie cursing behind him, but Will will be long gone by the time he thinks about pursuing him.

His lungs burn. His legs ache. But he runs, runs away from Mike and Lucas and Dustin, runs from Lonnie. He runs from his worst memories, even though he knows that 001 will only bring him back to them.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed since he left when he hears 001 behind him.

“William.”

He finally stops, watching as the road shifts from the late afternoon to the Upside Down and back again. He hates this, this feeling of being trapped. He hasn’t felt it this strong since he originally was kidnapped, and this time, it was even stronger.

“What do you want from me?” he asks. He can hardly hear his own words, but he knows 001 is with him, somewhere, and that he knows what he’s thinking, what’s he feeling, what he’s planning.

Will turns. 001 is right behind him, though he doesn’t look like what he’s been described as. He’s slim, his blond hair and plain white clothes contrasting the viney figure he’s supposed to have.

001 tilts his head. Looks Will up and down, then smiles. “You’re not quite ready for that yet.”

Will feels himself falling backwards, and the road fades to black. He falls and falls and falls until he can’t see anything at all.

Mike is racing across the entire property, yelling Will’s name. Lucas is also out searching, and everyone else is calling for back-up. Mike can’t even begin to imagine what he might find when he sees Will. Will he be in a trance? Rising in the air? Will he already be dead, his limbs bent in unnatural angles, his eyes gorged out?

He doesn’t want to think about it.

“Will! Come on, Will!”

This is all his fault. He was stupid to even leave Will’s side; stupid to even think he was okay. He should’ve noticed the bags under his eyes. They live under the same roof, for crying out loud, and though they’re not attached to the hip like they used to be, it’s still his job to notice these things. Hell, nobody else noticed.

Mike wonders how long this has been going on for Will. Just how much he’s kept from other people. How much he’s lied. He doesn’t want to be mad at Will, and he isn’t. How can he even blame Will for all the shit he’s gone through? Mike’s pissed, no, furious at Vecna for doing this to his town. Will means so much to him, and if Vecna’s slimy, mind-manipulating ass has even thought about putting Will in danger again, Mike’s going to fuck him up himself.

Lucas calls out to him, and he flips around, his feet moving faster than his mind can keep up with. “I found him, out by Castle Byers. It’s not…” The rest of his sentence fades as Mike sprints in that direction, ignoring the rest. If Lucas didn’t come back with Will, then it means that everything’s gone to shit.

Mike swears he is never letting Will out of his sight again. The only thought in his mind is Am I too late?

He’s not, thank God, but he might’ve been close. Will’s still in contact with the ground, but his eyes continue to roll into his head, unresponsive.

“Will, Will I need to you hear me.” Mike shakes Will’s shoulders. He’s desperate for any sign he’s going to make it out alive, anything.

“Whatever Vecna’s telling you, don’t listen to him,” he forces out. “He’s just trying to get to you, okay? Fight back, Will. Fight back. Think of your happiest moments. I can’t—“ His voice cracks, and he feels something wet on his face. “I can’t do any of this without you. I might be the heart, might keep the group together, but you make me not want to give up on that. Will, you...you make me want to live. Can you hear me?”

He’s still pulled into the trance. Mike misses his beautiful, hazel eyes that would be looking at him otherwise.

Leaves crunch as the others approach. “There’s no cassettes in the house, I had to grab the radio,” Steve pants, and Robin stops beside him while Lucas and Dustin rush to Will.

“Holy shit. God damnit,” Dustin curses are colorful, echoing Mike’s thoughts as he fumbles to put on a radio station.

“What song are we looking for?” Robin asks, and Mike stares at her.

“What? Just any song.”

Robin’s eyes widen, flicker with panic. “It can’t just be any song. It has to be his favorite song; what’s his favorite song?”

Everyone freezes, and Steve says things even worse than Dustin. He runs his fingers through his hair, mutters under his breath.

Robin runs to join them. “None of you know his favorite song? Jesus Christ.” She takes the radio from Dustin and turns several of the knobs.

“He’s been gone for a year, of course none of us know!” Lucas screeches. He reaches for the radio, Robin pulling it just out of his reach.

Mike’s brain is racing. His eyes won’t leave Will’s, but those words stick in his head. He doesn’t even know what Will’s favorite song is. What kind of best friend is he?

“Find ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go?’ He loves that one.” Dustin is next to Mike, shaking Will body alongside him.

Mike’s mutters screech to a halt. “No! He hates that song.”

“That’s been his favorite song for years!” Music from the radio sounds through the woods, interrupting the silence between the yelling. “It got him through the Upside Down, it saved his life!”

Mike takes his eyes off Will to glare at Dustin. “That’s exactly why he hates it, dipshit. It reminds him of the damn place.”

Dustin doesn’t respond. Lucas whispers, “Shit.”

Shit indeed.

Is there anything Mike can do right? The switching radio channels pulls his brain into a fog, the songs switching so fast he can hardly register which one is playing. Curses fill the rest of the air, slipping from everyone’s mouths. Except Mike’s. He needs to think, needs to remember every single instance within the last three weeks that has had music in the background while he’s been with Will. There are too few of them for any to be even remotely helpful.

Think, think, think, think, think, think, think—

The mention of a singer’s name over the radio has the fog disappearing in an instant. When Mike comes to, though, the station has already been changed.

“Go back one!” he yells are Robin, so loud she flinches. But she does as she’s told. Then she turns the radio on full volume and steps back.

I hope you love this song enough that it can save your life in one go, Mike prays, because that’s all they have.

One chance for the song to reach Will. One chance for him to decide whether it’s the greatest song he’s ever heard or the worst. One chance to save his life. One chance to get him out of there.

Six minutes and eleven seconds for him to escape.

Will wakes to rain pelting down on his face. He groans, his head pounding, and for a moment he thinks it was all a dream. He’s, of course, never been that lucky.

He’s in front of the Wheeler’s open garage, and when his past self bursts from the inside, he knows when he is.

That fateful summer, only a year ago, though it feels as if it were even more before. He remembers it so vividly, like it happened earlier that day.

Mike comes outside after him, and even if Will is currently too far away to hear the words, he knows them like the back of his hand all the same.

Still, he moves closer, the water in his bangs dripping over his eyes and hindering the details he can typically see on Mike’s face: his freckles, sharp-lined nose, brown eyes. They usually glow as light hits the color, but with the storm in Hawkins, they’re as dull as the memory.

Past Will is currently yelling at him. “—doesn’t care either and I don’t blame him! You’re destroying everything, and for what? So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?”

Mike retaliates. “El’s not stupid! It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

It still stings coming from his lips, knowing his best friend said those words to him without any thought to them. As if they would’ve revealed themselves eventually.

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

It hurts even more knowing that it is his fault.

He knows Mike didn't mean the implications, even if they are true. Will used to constantly reassure himself that Mike was just his friend, and that his feelings didn't stretch farther than that.

That summer changed everything completely. Starting here.

Because it's always started with Mike.

And now, as his past self bikes past him, he knows what Vecna is trying to do. He knows how this ends. It ends with Will despising everyone around him so much that he’ll rather die than come back.

He’s going to die. There’s nothing around him that can help him survive his curse. Even Max, the girl who always has a temper and a strong will, didn’t make it out. Everyone knew she was cursed, and they couldn’t keep her alive.

The storm pounds to the earth harder, and Will finds it harder to distinguish what is rain and what is tears. Yes, he’s going to die. But something about that fact doesn’t seem so bad. Not anymore.

He takes a deep breath and follows Mike back inside the house. He’s already in the basement, grabbing his rain jacket and yelling at Lucas, telling him to “Hurry up!”

Mike’s eyes are rimmed with red, the unshed tears trying to push through. He’s always tried to hide his feelings, tried to forget about them until the moment had passed and they didn’t matter anymore. But Will can read him like an open book.

He and Lucas sprint up the stairs, and Will watches them leave.

So quick to fix things after they’ve already been ruined.

001 is watching Will, trying to gauge his feelings. Will tries to curl into himself, to hide the truth that 001 has already found out.

It proves to be futile when 001 smiles at him, again. “They’ve always only begun to care when they’re called out on their actions. Mike and Lucas, when they refused to play games with you. Your mother, when she got away from your father as soon as you admitted that he abused you; even though she knew from the start. Even Jonathan, who never realized who he had lost until he was already gone. These people don’t care about you, William. They only pretend to.”

001 leans out to touch his face, to which he tries to lean away from. He can’t listen to him, won’t listen to him. Will has to fight him.

“You’re wrong,” Will hisses.

001 leans away, as if burned. “We’ll see.”

The memory changes, and he’s in the pizza van from only weeks before. He sits in the middle row, and turns sideways to observe the backseat.

It was awful enough saying it the first time, but now he truly has to watch himself deliver his speech.

“When you’re…different…sometimes, you feel like a mistake.” His past self turns to Mike. “But, you make El feel like she’s not a mistake at all. Like she’s good for being different.”

Of course El didn’t commission the painting. He doesn’t mean any offense to his sister, but she probably doesn’t even know what the word commission means. It all came from Will, was all about Will, and his feelings for Mike.

Will still can’t comprehend how he gained the courage to give his painting to Mike. Well, he would’ve always given the art, but the meaning behind it was more of an on the spot addition. Will had bottled up his feelings more and more as they came into the light for him, which, while starting in the summer, had only increased tenfold in California. When he actually realized what he was missing.

The girls that flirted with Will never had the same effect that Mike had on him. In fact, it was weirder for him to actually experience girls trying to date him than the lack of feelings he felt for any of them.

But, good God, as he replays this specific moment with Mike, and he turns away to look out the window, Mike stares at him, at the back of his neck.

Will knows he can see the shake of his shoulders. His reflection in the glass.

But instead of trying to comfort Will, instead of asking what’s wrong, he looks away. Mike doesn’t say a damn word to him.

Will figures the truth is exactly how Vecna plays it out to be: Mike doesn’t give a flying shit about him. If he had in the past, those feelings were long gone.

Music from the van’s radio fills the silence.

I, I will be king.

Will doesn’t recall this song playing in the van, not in this moment, at least. Must be a faulty memory.

He scoffs, furiously wiping his face. He feels so stupid, so ridiculous for even holding out hope that Mike could understand him. 001 is right.

Will’s final memory fades, leaving a harsh red landscape in its wake. Blood coats the ground as far as Will can see, and the only objects in the void are a few broken pillars and a grandfather clock.

And Vecna. Not 001, as he used to be. But Vecna, still alive. He’s been burned, badly, the ripped vines acting as evidence to his almost-murder. But he’s healthy enough to toy with Will, so he supposes he hadn’t been that close to death.

“What is it now?” Will shouts to him. He takes steady steps forward, the red staining his Converse and the bottoms of his jeans.

“You’ve come to your senses.” Vecna stays put, waiting for Will to meet him. Music still plays, so distant he can hardly make out what song it is. Will assumes Vecna doesn’t know, either.

“My senses? So, what, I would’ve been blind to who I am without your interference?”

Vecna doesn’t respond, which seems to be his favorite pastime around Will.

Will scoffs again, already turning around when he finally speaks.

“All the things you could’ve done, if only you’d known. But you, William, are weak. Exactly the same to the others I’ve collected for my fight. And you, are the final piece. It’s been written in stone that you would help me accomplish this.”

He stops, his heart pounding. “What?” The beat reaches his throat, fast and sickly and overwhelming.

“Your coming to the Upside Down was no coincidence. But, you already know that by now, don’t you?” Vecna steps forward. “You could be so much more than you are now. So normal compared to what you currently are. You could be…by my side.”

Normal, like he’s dreamed of his entire life. All the crude remarks, blatant insults, constant babying, all of it could just...go away. With just this decision, this chance.

Vecna outstretches his hand. Waiting.

Will looks behind him. For any way he could escape. There is nothing. Only the quiet music in his ears and the ruin before him.

Right, because no one cared enough to look for him.

Will takes Vecna's hand.

They can't even take on step forward before the music’s volume increases tenfold. His favorite song.

And we kissed, as though nothing could fall.

Will stops and turns back one last time.

There it is. His one way out. Everyone is there, by Castle Byers, screaming up at his floating body. There's Lucas, Dustin, and Mike closest to him, Dustin holding the radio up as far as he can reach. Robin and Steve stand farther away, but they're still yelling at him.

Vecna had lied to him. Had gotten into Will's head like it was nothing, and accomplished the one thing Will had always fought against. And Vecna had said he could save him, but he never did say how.

He glances at Vecna, who is frowning. He drops Will's hand.

"Go, run back to them. Cherish the time you have left with him. This...was a rare offering, William. When I return, you won't be given this opportunity."

Will doesn't waste another moment before breaking out into a sprint. Away from the monster. Away from the worst parts of his life. And towards Mike.

We can be heroes. Just for one day.

The world around him crumbles down. Blocks of wood rain through his path. He dodges each one.

We can be heroes.

One final glance behind him. Vecna is gone, along with the ruins they had approached.

We're nothing, and nothing can help us.

He's almost to the gaping reality. The fall to the ground will hurt, but he figures the snap of his bones would've hurt more.

Maybe we're lying, then you better not stay.

The clock clangs down in front of him. The ring of the chime is muted by the music. Will races around it. He has all the time in the world now. No longer will Vecna keep a hold on him.

But we could be safer, just for one day.

He jumps, and everything fades to white.

Will’s eyes shoot open, and he falls to the ground with a gasp and a groan.

“Holy shit, Will!”

His ears are ringing, his entire body aching as he inhales so deeply he coughs.

Someone is embracing him, cradling his head and holding him still. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Mike’s soft voice comes through the ringing, and Will grips his shirt tightly. Tears slip through his shut eyes, long forgotten as Will sees the extent to what just happened.

“Don’t ever pull some shit like that again, you hear me Byers?” Another weight is added to the hug, and another following that.

Will goes to break the contact, but Mike seems insistent on not letting go. The others gets off him quickly, Will opening his eyes to look at them closely. He can’t quite believe he almost trusted Vecna, that he wanted to be normal. He’s been different his entire life; that is the normal for him. Not whatever Vecna had planned.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, watching each of their expressions fall.

Mike’s grip becomes slack. He pulls away from the hug and grips Will’s face harshly. He feels as if he looks ridiculous when Mike says, “It’s not your fault, Will. Okay? It’s not your fault. God, it’s never been your fault.” Then he’s pulled back into the hug once again.

To hell with it all, Lucas is smirking at Will. Despite the fact that he almost just died.

“We’re going to Hop’s cabin,” Dustin says, oblivious to Lucas. “Steve and Robin called the house. They know what happened.”

Will shuts his eyes again, sighing. Leans into the warmth that’s Mike. Hopper knows, which means his mom knows, which means Jonathan knows. They should’ve just let Vecna get it over with; they’ll murder him in a much worse fashion.

Will leans onto Mike as they walk to the car, and again, inside the car. His body is so tired, but Lucas says Max felt the same way when she almost died the first time. Dustin thinks it’s from the growing force that had been put on his limbs. Will thinks it’s from fear. Mike thinks it’s from both, though it’s not said aloud.

He knows he’s safe, for now at least, even if he’s shaken from everything. Everyone’s here, they don’t all hate him, none of them are dead. He’s as safe as he can possibly get. So why does he feel a looming sense of dread? He wants to believe it’s just a side effect, that it’ll disappear by the morning.

Before he even realizes, his head falls onto Mike’s shoulder and his eyes slip shut.

Mike wakes him when they pull onto the rocky gravel. Nancy’s car is parked out front, with her, Hopper, and El waiting out on the porch. The car jerks to a stop, and Steve instantly gets out to open the trunk. He assists Will in getting down, but lets Mike drag him the remaining way up the steps.

El meets them both halfway, crushing Will into a hug and causing a loss of contact between him and Mike. Will misses his touch, the warmth he provides. Even so, he allows El to inspect every inch of him.

“You’re okay,” she claims after. A smile spreads onto her face.

“Temporarily, at least,” he mutters, to which she frowns.

“You’ll stay here, where I can watch you.” She nods, as if it’s already settled. Will sneaks a glance towards Mike, who has been dragged into a conversation with Nancy.

He turns back, and instead of El, Hopper is there, and he engulfs Will. “El check you out?” he asks. Will nods. “Good. You’re staying here for the foreseeable future, kid.”

Will doesn’t respond. He’s liked staying at Mike’s house. It brings him back to the countless sleepovers that had taken place there. Now it’ll take months before he’s ever allowed by himself again, let alone at a friend’s house.

He looks again at Mike, at Nancy, who is ruffling his hair, regardless of his attempts to shy away. He’s so distracted he almost misses Hopper’s question.

“Which one of them knew your favorite song?”

Will’s attention is yet again drawn away from Mike. “I…I don’t know. I never told any of them.”

Hopper smiles at him. “You got some good friends, then. Or just some lucky guessers.” He ends it with a pat to Will’s back before leading him inside the cabin.

Will is sitting on the couch with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. Mike is beside him, currently wrapping a blanket around him.

The relief he’d felt when Will fell to the ground…he’s never been much happier than that.

“He’s going to come back for me.” Will’s voice shakes as he speaks. “He—he let me go. He told me to cherish my time with—“ A glance at Mike. “—everyone.”

Mike absentmindedly traces circles on Will’s back, thinking about Vecna’s tactic. “It’s obvious he’s trying to get to you. These other victims of Vecna, they wouldn’t really talk to anybody, right?” He looks towards Nancy, Dustin, and Lucas. “Not about what was bothering them.”

“Well, not explicitly, at least,” Nancy says.

“Exactly.” He turns back to Will. “Maybe if you tried telling someone, it might at least lower the chances of Vecna coming back for you.”

He looks uncomfortable suddenly, and he places his cup on the coffee table. “It was all the same stuff: Lonnie, the Upside Down, the remarks afterwards.” He pointedly avoids looking at anyone.

Mike wishes Will knew that he could talk to him, always. They used to tell each other everything; now, it feels like they only talk to one another if it’s necessary.

Hop sighs. “You’ll have to give us more than that, kid.”

“Well, I can’t give you anymore!” Will snaps. He deflates immediately after. “Sorry.”

Hop goes to say more, but Mike cuts him off with a quick glare. “No. He doesn’t want to say anymore, so don’t make him.”

A moment of silence. Then Nancy speaks up. “Well, we can’t be unguarded this time. We won’t bait Vecna again, not unless we’re absolutely certain we can kill him this time.”

“We won’t be using Will as bait, period. No way.”

Will meets Mike’s eyes with his own and gives a slight smile. “It’s fine, Mike. I’ll do it if we have to.”

“But—“

“No time for arguing, Mike. Will says he will, so that’ll be our backup plan.”

Lucas looks uncertain. “I’m not sure I want anyone putting themselves at risk like that. Max…” He swallows. “I won’t watch Will go through the same thing.”

“I won’t,” Will responds, and he seems so sure of it that Mike can almost believe him.

“Well, we still need a safety net. What’s your favorite song again?” Hopper looks at him expectantly.

When he doesn’t move to respond, Mike does it for him. “‘Heroes,’ David Bowie.”

“I can run and get a tape,” Robin offers.

Steve follows with, “I’ll go with her.”

“Go now, before it gets too dark.” Nancy tosses the keys from the table to them, and they leave without another word.

"Speaking of which," Hopper grunts, getting up from his chair. "We're running low on food."

Nancy sighs. "I'll go out and get some if you make me a list."

"Already done," says El, leaving and coming back with a piece of paper.

Mike takes in Will's presence, and the rest of the world seems to fade away. "You doing okay?" he asks, probably the most stupid question one could ask someone who almost died.

"Better." Will shifts slightly.

He doesn't look much better to Mike. His face has grown pale, his hands are shaking, and he won't look at Mike.

Yea, he doesn't buy it. "Maybe you just need some rest."

Will nods, as if that's the best idea he's ever heard. "Yea, okay."

Mike stands first, offering an arm to help Will get up. Together, they walk towards the guest bedroom, which has already been prepared for Will.

"Where are you two going?" Dustin eyes them both, and they pause.

Mike turns around. "Will's tired." It's pretty obvious to see that much.

"Three inches, Wheeler." Hopper grumbles.

Mike's never felt more embarrassed in his life. His cheeks and ears warm, but he manages an "Okay, Jim."

His head snaps up from the newspaper, eyes wide and mouth preparing to say more. Mike beats him to it.

"Where are you guys going?" He directs it towards Lucas.

"We're going to the store with Nancy. Haven't you been listening?" He seems exasperated, but his eyes shine with something more.

No. He's been too focused on Will.

He leaves the question unanswered and resumes in helping Will to his room. He seems grateful to finally get out from under the watchful eyes of everyone else. He figures once Joyce returns, she’ll handle the responsibility of hovering over him, however useless it may be. Mike disagrees with the popular theory that Vecna will come back for Will. Maybe he’s just holding out too much hope, or maybe his intuition is actually right this time.

Whatever the case, he knows everything will be over soon, whether their world comes to ruin, or the Upside Down does. Mike wants it to end well: with none of their group dying, with the Upside Down gone for good, and Vecna burned and lifeless from his hands. But with their luck, everyone making it out in one piece is asking for too much.

If Mike’s lucky, maybe he’ll lose an arm or an eye. A badass wound makes up for anything like that.

He sets Will on the bed and opens his dresser drawers.

“What are you doing?” Will asks. Tiredness seeps through his voice.

Mike closes a drawer and opens another. “Finding pj’s for you. Because you’re going to sleep until morning.” He gives him a look from across his shoulder, offering no debate.

Will ignores this. “Come on, Mike. It’s barely five, and I’m hungry.”

“Sleep first, eat after,” he insists, and hands him the clothes he found. They both stare at each other for a moment. Mike’s heart picks up speed. He feels himself leaning in, and he’s pretty sure Will doing the same, but the bang of the front door shutting has Mike jumping back.

He clears his throat. “Just uh, get some rest, alright?” Will nods, and Mike leaves the room. He shuts the door behind him, cheeks somehow still burning. There’s no one left in the living room, something he’s grateful for. He doesn’t think he could face Hop in this state.

What the hell is happening to him? He sighs, leaning his forehead against the door. It’s like something shifted in the air after, God, after Will almost fucking died in front of him. And inching closer and closer to him? It just feels right.

It’s no secret that his father is…well, a hateful man. There’s a reason he doesn’t form relationships with his kids, and there’s a reason Mike and Nancy absolutely despise him. Always quick to judge, to insult, but never, ever willing to ask one question about how everyone’s day has gone. Any tests today? Learn anything interesting today?

Maybe it’s because his kids aren’t like how he used to be: an athletic jock who always bullies others. Instead, they actually care about others, and are bullied for being exactly who they want to be: nerds.

He’s dialed it down over the years, but the remarks had increased tenfold over the past few weeks, more specifically once the Byers moved in. Mike isn’t stupid, he knows who they’re about. And yeah, Mike’s chest burns whenever his father says something that just borders the line of downright singling Will out, but it also hits close to home, somehow.

He hates himself for listening to his father, for believing everything he’s ever said about the sin of loving differently. And now, with every moment spent with Will, he can feel that disgust surfacing, no matter how hard he fights it.

He loves Will, so much. He just doesn’t know if it’s in the way that it should be.

He wants to slap himself across the face, to tell himself to get it together. Instead, he leans away from the door and he’s not entirely sure where he wants to go—the porch? Wait for someone to come pick him up?—but he’s not even three steps away before there’s a creak behind him.

Will’s voice is quiet when he speaks. “Can we talk?”

Ah, shit. What did he do this time?

Mike turns instantly, and shrugs, offering a smile. “Yea, yea definitely.”

He opens the door wider, then shuts it behind Mike with a soft click. They sit beside each other on the edge of the bed, and the quiet consumes them.

“You mentioned talking about everything. To someone.” They meet each other’s gazes, and Mike sees so much uncertainty in his eyes that he just wants to envelop him in a hug. Forget about all their other problems. And just focus on this moment.

“Yeah.” It comes out in a single exhale, practically unnoticeable. But Will has keen ears.

“I want it to be you.” That sentence alone has Mike’s breath hitching. Then he hurriedly adds, “That I tell, I mean.”

A soft feeling wraps around Mike at the implication, that Will trusts him enough to lay out his worst moments before him. It’s warm and overwhelming, the feeling, and causes the ability to speak to leave Mike completely.

Will’s brows knit together. “You okay?”

The motor skill returns to him. “Yeah, yeah totally. Just—whenever you’re ready.” They both take a moment to regain composure, both for obviously different reasons.

“Well, it started with you. You found me in the middle of the woods, told me I was in danger, and led me back towards the house. Dustin and Lucas met us, then, and were saying the same thing: that I was at risk of Vecna’s curse. But then, I started questioning everything you guys were telling me, and you…you got angry. Spit insults at me. I—I didn’t know what to do. I ran off.” His voice cracks near the end, and Mike feels bad for even suggesting this.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this. I should’ve thought about how it would—“

Will stops him with his hand. “No, I can do this.” He takes a breath, and continues.

“I didn’t know what was happening, I thought my worst nightmares were coming true. That the party finally realized I’m a freak.” Mike wants to interrupt, wants to tell him he’s not. But he wants Will to finish what he can get through. He doesn’t want to delay any of it.

Like ripping off a bandaid, he remembers Will saying in the van all those weeks ago.

“I went to the house, expecting Steve and Robin to be there. But.” He swallows. “Lonnie’s there instead. Beer bottles are everywhere, so he’s clearly drunk. He apologized for making me kill a rabbit. I guess this was a memory, to actually get the curse going, so it’d take over faster. Of course, something inside him snapped. He talked about my image in town, how I had to—“ He breaks off, tears finally falling down his cheeks. Mike pinches his leg to prevent himself from reaching out and wiping them away. Will starts again. “How I had to be a man, as if I wasn’t just an eight-year-old kid who wanted to indulge in my make-believe stories for just a few more years.” He sniffs. Chuckles a little. “He was about to hit me when I slammed one of the bottles into his head.”

Mike cracks a grin. “Badass.”

Will laughs a little more. “Maybe if I had had the time, I would’ve done more to him. But I could remember this memory, and I remember the terror surrounding it. So I ran out of the house and didn’t look back.

“I was running down the road when Vecna visited for the first time. He tells me he has more to show me. And then—“ He stops abruptly, as if coming to a sudden realization. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Mike can’t stop the question from leaving his lips. “You can tell me anything. Anything, Will.”

Then he’s bursting into sobs, and Mike finds himself holding Will close again, letting his tears soak into his jacket.

Between hiccups, Will says, “He told me that he could make everything go away if I joined him and his cause.”

“It’s okay, Will, you don’t have to tell—“

“Mike.” Will draws away from him. “I took his hand. I almost went with him.”

His entire body freezes. Not in movement, but in temperature. It’s white-hot and quick, but the panic that arrives with it threatens to make his lunch resurface.

Will’s still talking, his sentences speeding up the more he talks. “—the music hadn’t played when it did, I’d be dead. On my own terms. I mean, to think I really believed his words. I was just so damn angry and his words felt truthful. It was mainly the painting memory he showed, and I was so furious that you hadn’t just read between the lines, but with the rain and everything, well, he seriously did the job, didn’t he?”

Mike has to slam the breaks on his speech. “What? The painting? Rain? What are you talking about?”

Will stops. “Forget I said anything. Oh, God, forget I said anything at all.” He covers his face with his hands.

Now, Mike may be overreaching, but the second he heard ‘painting,’ he thought back to the van (which seems to be a common occurrence.)

“The painting. It’s the one you gave me, right? With the whole party as our D&D characters.” He’s hesitant to say anything at first. He doesn’t want to make things worse, but he also wants Will to be free of the threat of Vecna. “I think the message was pretty clear.”

“No, Mike, you don’t get it.” He jerks his head up to face Mike, his face red from crying and, is that anger? “I lied to you.”

And so the panic returns, sharper this time. “You—what? You lied to me?” He gets off the bed. “Everything you told me was a lie?”

Will sobs again. “No, no, Mike. Everything I said about you is true. It always has been, and it will be forever. But El didn’t commission that painting.” He tries to get up alongside him, but something has him fighting for balance.

That instinct takes over again, and he wants to help him get up, he wants to fix everything until they’re how they used to be, before any of this happened. He feels his fingers twitch as he holds back, and through the clench of his jaw, he asks, “So who did?”

Will shakes his head harshly, lips pressed so tightly together he looks like he’s in pain. Mike sure feels like it. “Don’t make me say it.”

Mike rubs his forehead. Paces across the room. He doesn’t ask about that anymore; he knows the answer anyway. “So then why did you lie to me?”

He finally gets up and holds Mike’s shoulders, preventing any other walking, or moving for that matter. When Will’s sure Mike isn’t going to move, he lets go. “You’d never understand—“

“Then make me understand! Help me understand you, Will! I want to help you, it’s all I ever want to do!”

Will steps away. “I—I can’t.”

Mike’s growing restless. He can’t stand this feeling of not knowing what’s going on in Will’s head. He needs to know, has to know what it is that’s making him so scared.

“Why not? We’re best friends. All I want is the truth!”

Silence. They’re both breathing heavily. Mike’s sure El and Hop have heard every word they’ve said after their relentless shouts.

Will’s eyes flit to his lips, and for a moment, Mike believes he’ll surge forward, capture Mike’s lips with his own, and feed the fantasy that has been plaguing Mike for years, a vision he’s pushed down for so long he can’t help but wonder why he thinks it’ll actually come true.

Then Will whispers, “Go home, Mike,” and the fantasy is shattered.

“No. Not until I know you’re safe.” Their argument aside, he remembers he has far worse things on his plate. He reaches for Will’s hands, but he tugs away immediately, and his eyes don’t quite reach Mike’s.

“I said go home, Mike, okay? I’m safer without you here.”

It’s a strange feeling, when you feel yourself exit your body. It’s like you’re seeing through your eyes, but there’s a second pair somewhere in the room, and you can see through both at the same time. For Mike, it’s this, then his vision doubles, and then as he blinks, he feels himself sway. Back and forth, back and forth, back and—

“Okay. Okay, fine. Just, please, for the love of God, get some sleep.”

He leaves Will’s room without another word.

Mike spends the entire night thinking about Will’s words. He wants to read in between the lines, like he hadn’t done with the painting. He just wants to truly know Will, like he used to.

Now he’s not even sure he knew him in the first place.

El didn’t commission that painting.

But everything he said about him was true? How the hell is that supposed to work?

He turns to his back.

It’s just, how can he really believe everything else was true if Will lied about who it came from? This feels so complicated, but it feels complicated because Mike won’t let it get any simpler. If he could just read between the lines, just grasp something that can lead him in the right direction.
He rolls to face the television.

Okay, so then look at it from Will’s perspective, he tells himself. But surely they’re not all that different from one another. Mike and El had already broken up, so it would’ve been more of a friend ordeal.

He rolls again, to face the back of the couch.

But Will didn’t know about the break-up, which means that he thought El would see him from a romantic mindset, which leads him to the conclusion that…

He bolts up, turning towards Will’s shut door. Okay, so he hadn’t listened when Will told him to go home. Big deal. He’s simply being a good fri—

Oh, who is he kidding? They’ve completely crossed those boundaries now, whether Will knows it or not. Because Mike knows. He knows everything now.

But what if Will doesn’t want him to know? He seemed that way earlier, when he refused to even talk more about it. Then again, he mentioned the rain alongside the painting, but as far as Mike remembers, there wasn’t any rain in the desert. So…

He lays back down, folding his hands across his chest and huffing. He clearly didn’t find talking about the rain any better than the painting, and if both things are related somehow, then it must come back to Mike.

He covers his eyes with his hands. God, this is so stupid. He should just wait until the morning to talk to Will about it, but he’s afraid. Not of the truth of the situation (which surprises him enough) but that Will still won’t feel safe enough to admit it to him.

I’m safer without you here.

The words stung at first, but now they really do burn. Mike had thought it was about Vecna, but it’s about him. Of course it’s about him, because when isn’t he fucking something up?

The rain, the rain, the rain, when has anything ever gone wrong in the rain—

Oh.

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

Yea that’s definitely something gone wrong.

He groans, loudly, then glances at each of the bedroom doors. He waits a few minutes in silence, anticipating Hop’s door opening and then him asking Mike what he’s still doing here, and then he’ll be forced to walk back home because Hop won’t get out at two in the morning and Jesus he just needs to breathe.

He’s pretty much come to terms with the fact that he’s not getting any sleep for the rest of the night. But Mike feels like he’s dreaming. Like everything that’s happened in the past day is resurfacing, clear but also so fuzzy that he can’t quite make out any of the small details. It’s like the night is screwing with his head so much that he can’t even tell if Will actually likes him or if he’s just turning crazy. Nothing good happens after one in the morning, after all.

He looks towards Will’s bedroom again. Not a sound, not a light, nothing signaling that he’s up, trapped in his thoughts like Mike is.

He needs him to wake up so they can talk it out already. His fingers are starting to twitch, warning him that he needs to move or he’s going to start running laps around the cabin. He forces them to be still, takes a few deep breaths, and turns to stare at the ceiling.

Mike’s never really thought about the possibility of Will liking him like this. It’s foreign, but it has that sense of familiarity that means it belongs there. He really must be going crazy. His brain is combining random thoughts, words, and theories together, hoping to make sense of something he’s learned in the past eighteen hours.

What Mike is really hoping for is a little time to sleep. Like the entire day tomorrow kind of rest. He should’ve gone home to where it would’ve been possible. Since he’s sleeping on the couch, it’s pretty much impossible to have all that time to gain some shut-eye.

He sighs. Whatever. Sleep-deprived Mike can deal with the consequences of his thoughts when Will wakes up the next morning.

Mike is startled awake by the smoke alarm going off. He jolts upwards, looking to see Hop cursing and opening the windows.

He catches Mike’s eye and stops. “Get in here, Wheeler.”

He scrambles to his feet, coughing as he gets deeper into the kitchen. “How did you burn the eggs?” he grumbles.

“Got distracted.” He uses a towel to blow the smoke out of the cabin. “Think I woke them?”

Mike shakes his head. “Nah, they’re heavy sleepers.”

“You sure about that?” Hop raises a brow, and Mike looks over to the living room, where El is standing, wrapped in a blanket.

“It’s cold,” she says simply, and shuts the window with her mind.

Hop grimaces, flipping the towel to rest on his shoulder. “Yea, well, it stinks. We gotta let it air out.” He opens the window again. “Besides, it’s not that cold.”

Mike glances at the goosebumps lining his arms. “It’s pretty cold.”

And so they sit down to eat Eggos and bacon, the cool breeze inviting shivers from Mike and El.

He glances occasionally at Will’s plate and seat, then at his door. He would hate to barge in, but the knowledge is absolutely eating him alive. He’s just about to force himself to bring the breakfast to him when his door opens.

Their eyes meet, and every single moment they’ve ever had together flashes through Mike’s head. From D&D to movie nights to Halloweens to Christmases to birthdays to yesterday, when a single memory of Will humming “Heroes” in the van ended up saving his life.

Will freezes, his own blanket covering his entire body, before he finds the ability to move again. He sits down, mumbles a “Good morning,” and then eats.

El’s watching him, as if trying to figure something out. “Any nightmares?”

He looks up. Meets El’s eye. Then Mike’s. “Yea,” he admits.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Will swallows. Mike hopes he says yes, needs him to say yes, if only so he gets it off his chest.

He shrugs. “It was the same as the others, so, not much to talk about.”

Mike knows he’s lying. Why does he do that so much now?

Everyone finishes their food without another word, and Mike finds himself cleaning the dishes with Hop. El and Will left to their rooms, presumably to get ready for the day. Hop’s already dressed, and Mike wishes he could say the same. He’s still in his clothes from the day before, stuck smelling like sweat, dirt, and tears. He’ll leave soon, once Steve and Robin come back with the mixtape, because they apparently couldn’t have gotten it any sooner than this morning.

“Wheeler,” says Hop. Mike’s scrubbing falters. He swallows, looking at the former chief.

“Yea?”

He looks over Mike’s head, then back to him. “You need to talk to him,” he says, nodding towards Will’s room. “Something yesterday just… made him crack. You gotta get him to talk about it, or else he’s only gonna be attacked again.” He sets down the dish he was drying. “Joyce…I couldn’t get in touch with her, since she’s on the road. When she figures out what happened, she’ll never stop telling him to talk about it. And…”

Mike sees where the conversation is leading, and he feels his stomach grow heavy.

Hop pauses. Then finishes, “I’m afraid if none of us can get it out of him, he won’t be alive by the time Joyce and Jonathan return.”

The thought makes Mike want to expel his breakfast. “I’ll talk to him.” He promises. “Just, let me finish the dishes.”

“I’ll handle the dishes. You go.”

Mike doesn’t waste a second before drying his hands and leaving him behind.

“Mike.”

He stops. Looks back a final time.

“Three inches.”

He clenches his jaw. “Three inches,” he mocks under his breath. He raises his fist and knocks on his door.

A few seconds pass. Then the lock clicks and the door opens. It opens just a crack, enough for Mike to see that his hair is damp and he’s out of his pj’s. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Mike’s arm falls limply to the side. “Can we talk?”

Will blinks a few times, then opens the door wider. “Yea.”

Mike lets himself inside, shutting the door behind him. Screw the three inch rule, they’re just talking.

Will speaks first. “Why didn’t you go home?”

“I wanted to be here, in case something happened. But that’s not why I’m in here.”

“Then why are you here, Mike? I have nothing else to say. I don’t have to explain myself!”

“I never said you had to.”

Will faces him, and he looks ethereal in the morning light. Like an angel fallen from the skies. His hair is curling at the ends ever so slightly, and Mike can imagine running his fingers through it while they—

He stops the train of thought, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Will hesitantly follows, and Mike gets an extreme sense of deja vu from the night before.

“I’m sorry that I said what I did in the rain,” Mike blurts.

Will laughs. “You remember that?”

“Of course I remember. I—The look on your face, I was just so caught up in everything with El that I didn’t even consider how you were feeling about everything.”

He doesn’t say anything in response, so Mike continues.

“I’m the reason you destroyed Castle Byers, and I will never forgive myself for it. I mean, I’d be surprised if you forgave me for any of the shit I’ve done over the past year.”

“You weren’t all that bad,” he says, and Mike just wants Will to yell at him, to give him what he deserves.

“You’re giving me too much credit. I ditched D&D for a girl, how lame is that?” He laughs, mainly in attempt to ease the situation, to help him feel comfortable and safe.

I’m safer without you here.

“No, don’t you do that.” Will’s hands grabs onto Mike’s arm, and he stares at the touch. Will doesn’t notice. “I was caught in the past. I wanted those times back, before I got so screwed up and couldn’t even remember my mom’s name. And I tried to drag everyone back with me.

“You said it yourself: we aren’t kids anymore.”

“Yea, but then I go off and join another party after you move away. I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Mike.”

The sun catches Will’s face, showing the undertones of green in his eyes that otherwise aren’t visible. Mike feels mesmerized, probably is mesmerized, but he can’t look away. Will doesn’t, either, and Mike feels himself leaning closer and closer until there’s a bang in the kitchen and Hop is cursing again. The spell is broken, and Mike’s attention turns to his hands. He needs to pull himself together, to focus on what matters.

“I wrote you letters,” he whispers.

“What?”

“While you lived in Lenora. I wrote to you, but I never got the nerve to send them off. It all felt so personal, like I should be saying it to you in person versus in writing. I wanted to reach out, but the phone line was always so busy, and with high school giving me such a shit time, I just, lost the motivation.

“It’s not an excuse, I know. I just wanted to tell you what really happened.”

Will’s quiet as he thinks. “Where are they?”

Mike’s stomach churns when he replies. “In my desk. Some crumbled, some put in envelopes that were ready to be mailed off, and others…” He thinks of all of them having tear stains, where the ink bled through and the paper wrinkled. All of them written with “Love, Mike” at the end. He doesn’t finish his sentence, and Will doesn’t push to know what the end would’ve been.

Will hums. “I wrote a few, too. Never sent them either.”

“Well, you kinda did send one to me.” Mike’s heart is racing.

He sees the panic fly onto Will’s face. “What? Which one?”

“The painting.”

“Oh.”

Mike stares at him. He’s looking away, cheeks flush.

“You know.” It’s not a question, and Mike knows he doesn’t mean it as one.

“I was up all night thinking about it.”

Will gets off the bed and faces him. “What’d you plan to get out of this, Mike? Why are you still here, talking to me?” He’s crying. Shit, Mike didn’t want to make him cry.

“I’m not mad at you, Will.” He stands, too, but keeps his distance at Will’s expression, despite the urge to hug him, to hold him close and not release him until he’s absolutely, one-hundred percent okay. “I could never be mad at you, Will, I’m just trying to understand you, to know—“

“You seemed pretty mad last night.”

“I wasn’t mad. I was confused, and hurt that you thought you had to hide it from me.”

“Your dad—“

“I don’t give a shit what my dad thinks. He’s not around enough to actually have an opinion on who I hang out with or how I feel towards others. Come on, you’re my best friend. Even if I’m not yours.” Mike steps forward, closer. “You can trust me, Will. With anything. Anything.”

Will’s eyes move across the room rapidly before finally resting on Mike’s face again. Tears well in them, and he breaks. “I just feel so lost, Mike. Like anything I try to do will only mess everything up. I can’t, can’t shake this feeling that everything comes back to me about how I’m connected to the Upside Down.”

Mike rushes forward, wrapping his arms around Will and letting him put all of his weight onto his shoulders.

“None of it is your fault,” he says in his ear. His fingers rub shapes all across Will’s back. “Alright?”

Will nods.

“I need you to repeat it for me, Will.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“And that’s because it isn’t. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, yes I hear you.” There’s a slight hint of humor in his voice, and Mike grins in knowing that he did that.

The sound of a car pulling up to the cabin startles them both, though Mike knows who’s arrived. “’S just Robin and Steve. I think they’re supposed to take me home, so I gotta go. Shower and stuff, I mean.”

“Right. You do stink.” Will laughs at his face, probably because it’s pulled into a frown.

“I do not—whatever.” He pulls away from Will’s grasp, knowing it’s true. “You feeling any better now?”

“Yea, I am.”

They smile at each other.

“Good.”

Mike’s about to open the door when Will speaks again. “What did you mean, when you said your father has no opinion on how you feel towards others.”

His breath catches. There’s his slip up. He releases his hand from the doorknob and he looks at Will. He tries to respond, he really does, but all that comes out is, “Uh.”

Will’s not amused. He’s still standing in the middle of the room, damp hair a little fuller now that it’s dried some.

If Mike says it out loud, he’s not only admitting it to Will, but to himself. And can he take that toll, truly? He doesn’t think it’s wrong; maybe a little part of him does, or is that just his father’s voice in his head? He’s frozen, and he can’t breathe when Will looks like that—

“Surely if I can open up to you like that, you can do the same for me, right?”

Right. He can, he can do it.

“I meant—I mean, can I just?”

Mike walks over to Will, stops just inches from his body. He could count Will’s freckles if he had the time, could sweep his bangs out of his eyes and press a kiss to his forehead and—

“Mike.”

“Can I...?” His hands reach to Will’s face and hover just above his cheeks. Mike’s running out of breath, and he’s sure there’s not enough oxygen in the room for the both of them.

Will seems to be waiting. “Say it,” he whispers.

“Can I just kiss you?”

Will’s rushing forward before he can even finish his sentence. Their noses are touching, their lips barely brushing. Mike wants to lean forward, and finds it in himself to bridge the gap.

His lips are soft, unscarred by lip-biting, different to Mike’s. Neither of them are moving very much, and Mike wonders if Will is just as scared to continue as he is.

He’s kissing someone. Someone who’s not a girl. Someone who’s a boy. Someone who’s Will and suddenly the dam is breaking and he feels himself crying against Will’s lips.

But Mike moves before Will can tell, tilts his head to get a better angle. It sparks them into action, with Will’s hands finding their way to his waist and Mike’s finally cupping his cheeks. Will's grip is sure to leave bruises as he tugs Mike closer, and closer, and closer. Until they're tumbling onto the bed, tangled in between one another, yet refusing to break apart to undo it.

His lips are so addicting. They taste like his mint toothpaste and only have Mike wanting more of the flavor, of him.

They stop for a moment to breathe. Will's found his way on top of Mike, straddling him.

"You should probably go. To shower," Will breathes, his eyes looking between Mike's own and his lips.

"Yea," he says, then leans in to kiss him again. Will's meets him with ease, and a kiss that was once soft becomes needy, life-giving.

Mike's thoughts about his dad that surface are quick to be forgotten as Will's mouth becomes the sole thing on his mind.

So addicting, "So perfect."

Mike takes to unlatching their lips and finds interest in Will's neck.

He relishes the sounds that come from his mouth, his soft gasps as he tries to be quiet. It's so easy to tune out the voices through the other door, calling to them. To Mike.

Unfortunately Will has some sense left in him, and he pulls away.

A rapid knock comes from the door. "Mike, we're leaving! You coming or not?" It's Robin.

"Shit." He scrambles up, passing Will one last kiss. "I'm coming back later."

For a second he believes he's broken Will, but then he's smiling, smiling wider than Mike's seen in years. "Okay, see you soon."

"Yea, soon." He smiles, too, and he's not sure he's ever felt so light. He walks out, shutting the door behind him, and there's Robin right there.

"There you are, you weren't answering me." She motions for him to follow. "We were gonna leave without you."

"Sorry, just got caught up in conversation." If that's what it was.

She focuses on his face. "Really? He tell you anything about yesterday?"

"Yea, last night. Are we leaving anytime today?" He felt like she was onto him.

"Oh yea."

"There you are, Wheeler! Been worried sick." Steve grins.

"Ha ha ha, you're not my mom."

"Yeah, you wish I was."

Mike blinks at him. Glares. "Why would I want that for myself?" He opens the door to the backseat.

"Because I let you run late, again. When'd you have the chance to brush your teeth, anyway? Didn't know you stayed over here often.” Everyone's in the car now, and Steve’s reversing out of the driveway.

"What? I don't. I didn't brush my teeth."

"Huh." Steve turns to Robin. "Smelled like mint."

Will sleeps for the rest of the day. Not only is he still tired from the entire fiasco, but his face feels hot for so long after that he simply can't imagine leaving the room.

After he kissed Mike. Or after Mike kissed him, whichever was the actual truth.

He still feels the ghost of Mike's lips on his when he wakes up, but it's unfortunately not from his return. Though, someone else is in the room with him.

At first he thinks Vecna's gotten him again. "Mom?"

She's smiling at him, sweeping his hair across his forehead. "Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling?"

He shrugs. Excellent. Astounding. Alive and light and free. "Could be better."

"God, I should've let you come with us, and you could've been safer."

Will sits up. "It's fine, Mom. It would've happened eventually. I...didn't know the signs of it. That's the only reason it got as far as it did." He pauses. "How are you guys back so quick?"

"Oh. Well, we had to stop to get some gas, and Jonathan called Nancy, and she told him what happened." Her eyes are shining with unshed tears. "I'm never around when you need me the most, and this just proved that I had to come back, to protect you."

"I don't need protecting. I have a mixtape, and everyone else is here looking out for me. Besides, I talked about it all, and I feel a lot better." His mom raises a brow. "I do!"

"Who did you talk about it with?"

"Mike." Talked, cried, kissed, no biggie.

"Well, I'm sure you can tell me all about it over dinner."

"Dinner?" He looks out his window and sure enough, the sun is beginning to set. "I slept all day."

"You probably needed it, then. Here, let's go out into the living room." She helps him up, though he insists he doesn't need it, and they go sit on the couch, where El is watching the television.

"Where's Jonathan?" he asks, leaning against El. She holds him close, seemingly too distracted to pick up on the conversation.

His mom answers. "He went to go pick up Nancy and Mike for dinner."

He exhales. "Oh." He's hoped his next interaction with Mike would be more private, and not something with the entire family around. Oh, well.

She frowns. "Is everything okay?"

"Yea." He wants to leave it there, but something about what he and Mike had talked about within the last twenty-four hours sticks with him. "I just figured he'd wait for me to wake up."

Hopper walks in. "Just ordered pizza. With the curfew, he had to leave early so you guys could get back to the Wheeler's in time."

His head whips back to his mom. "We're going back to Mike’s?”

She looks confused, and she shares a glance with Hopper. "Well, there isn't enough space here for all five of us."

Will’s cheeks burn. He’s going to sleep under the same roof as Mike, after today? With his parents in the house, too? What if they’re caught?

Maybe he’s reading too much into what happened. Maybe Mike isn’t on the same page as Will: that they’d be, well, together soon. Was it just a kiss to him? Nothing more?

The front door opens and Jonathan is instantly running to Will. “What is it with you and running into danger?” he asks, laughing through tears.

“I think danger runs to me more often than not,” he says, but holds the embrace, shutting his eyes tight. Jonathan’s always given the best hugs, and this one is no different.

Will takes a deep breath, soaking it in for just a little bit longer, then opens his eyes. They automatically meet Mike’s, who’s standing in the doorway.

He distantly hears Nancy huff. “Mike, move.” And then the eye contact is broken, and Will is pulling away from the hug.

El finally takes her attention away from the television. She notices that everyone has arrived, and says, “Pizza’ll be here soon.”

It does indeed arrive soon, and dinner speeds by like it never happened. And then they’re all in the same car, on the way back to the Wheeler’s.

And Will is stuck in between his mom and Mike, in possibly the most awkward situation he’s ever been in. He hadn’t even been able to address the “elephant” with Mike, and so he sits there, running the kiss over and over in his head. With his mom on one side, and the guy responsible on his other.

He just wants to reach out and interlace their fingers together, to let Mike know that he still wants to talk about everything. He wants their friendship to be more, to mean as much to Mike as it does to Will. He wants to love him. Publicly. Freely. Show it off to all of Hawkins, that he’s won over Michael Wheeler and they’re happy and none of their words will ever convince them otherwise.

But there’s still the problem of What If? Because what if Mike isn’t in this for the same purpose as Will? As silly of a thought that it is, it’s been one of the only one’s Will has thought about while he’s been lucid. All day. Which hasn’t consisted of much other than Oh my God I just kissed Mike Wheeler and he kissed me back.

Mike’s pointer finger twitches against his hand. Will forces himself to not look down, to instead lightly brush Mike’s knuckles with his pinkie. He holds in his gasp when Mike interlocks their fingers.

Will glances over at his mom: staring out the window. He checks the front: both preoccupied. So he takes the chance to steal a glance at Mike. He’s already looking at him, giving him a small smile. Will can’t help but reciprocate, and wraps their fingers tighter around each other.

Jonathan starts speaking, and Will immediately pulls his hand away and looks straight ahead.

“You grabbed the mixtape, right, Will?”

Well. He didn’t.

“I have it,” his mom speaks up, taking it out of her (overly large, Will thinks) pocket.

“Headphones, too?”

“Yes, Jonathan. What, you think I’m not responsible enough for this?” She tosses Will a wink.

When Will looks back at Mike, he’s turned towards the window.

The house is surprisingly already dark when they return. “They’re taking the curfew too seriously,” Nancy explains as they walk in. “Everyone’s probably sleeping already.” She and Mike go upstairs while everyone else goes to the basement.

Will is leaving the bathroom after getting ready for bed when his mom stops him. “Wait, you have bruises on your neck.”

He thinks this moment will be the cause of his death. She moves his chin out of the way while she inspects. “Was this from Vecna?” Now, Will is pretty sure that the things that happen to his body in his mind won’t translate over to real life, but maybe he’s just stretching too far.

Jonathan catches his gaze, and there’s a knowing look in his eye. A gleam. He jerks his head to the stairs and both his eyebrows raise in question.

Will hums in indifference, mind racing at his brother’s implication. “Must’ve been. It’ll heal in a few days, Mom. I’m fine.”

She backs off, though her eyes still dart around his figure, as if looking for any other concealed bruises. “Okay, but I want that tape on you at all times. You hear me? All times.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ll sleep with in on my head.” He won’t, but he’ll act like it.

And so things calm down again for the night. Jonathan snores like always, his mom hums every so often, but Will stays awake, hands folded across his chest and eyes trained on the ceiling.

He doesn’t want to wait until the morning. He doesn’t even know if he physically can. He wagers that if he were to fall asleep, he’d sleep walk all the way to Mike’s room so they could talk in his dreams. And the last thing he wants to happen is that.

So, after several more minutes of debating with his thoughts, he shuffles off of his blown-up mattress and tip-toes to the edge of the stairs.

“Whereyagoin?” Will jumps, turning back to Jonathan. He hadn’t even noticed the absence of the snores in all his concentration.

“I’m—uh—thirsty,” he decides to say.

“Oh.” His head plops down onto his pillow, and he’s sleeping again. Will rolls his eyes again. He’s not going to remember this by the morning.

His journey to Mike’s room is short and terrifying at the same time, and it isn’t until he’s right outside his door that he realizes that Mike might not even be up.

He curses under his breath and turns around, to head back downstairs, but he hears a set of hinges creak. Mike’s standing in his doorway. “You have quite the mouth,” he whispers, a glimpse of his smile only available to see because of the moonlight.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, but moves past him anyway, finding his place at Mike’s desk. He follows Will, leaning against the wall beside the piece of furniture.

“So, what are you doing up?”

Will analyses the painting in front of him. His painting. The edges are rolled just slightly, little remnants of thumbtack holes in each corner. He feels a smile form on his face, and he finally looks at Mike. “Was thinking. About you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, me too. Since you’re not gonna ask me.”

Will laughs. It’s hard not to when he’s around Mike. “It’s pretty self-explanatory.” He waves his arm over the painting.

“Hey, I’ll throw it in my closet if I have to.”

“Please, you’re all bark and no bite.”

They grin at each other in the lamplight, and the world fades to just them. To just Mike, with his hair, shorter now that he’s cut it, and brown eyes and always-present stubbornness. The thought of having Mike all to himself seems too good to be true, as if it’s just Vecna again, playing with his mind and giving him what he’s always wanted.

“What are we?” he asks, gazing back down onto the painting. His smile is gone, and he knows Mike’s is gone as well. He hears him move to his bed, the rustle of his sheets signaling that he’s sitting.

“What do you want us to be?” he retorts. Will’s lips press together.

“Probably more than what you have in mind.”

He spins the chair to face Mike, who’s fiddling with his fingers.

He glances up. “I don’t think you know what I have in mind.”

Will’s heart is pounding in his chest, so fast that he’s starting to feel nauseous. Is this really happening, because he can’t tell through the roaring in his ears. He’s growing hotter by the second, and yet chills line his arms.

“Indulge me.”

Mike’s nervous, he can tell. He’s nervous too, but this moment feels so promising that he can’t just sit in silence.

“Fine, I’ll go first.” He’s waited for almost ten years to say these words, even if he didn’t know it all back then. But it doesn’t seem so scary when it’s just them, alone, in the earliest part of the night. He takes a breath. “I’ve loved you ever since we met. Before we even knew what love meant. Before everything else happened. But,” he laughs shortly, “How could I not? You made me feel like I belonged, like I mattered. It was rare for me, back then.” He thinks of Lonnie, who had done nothing but shame him for being artistic and not sharing his interests.

“It started quiet at first, something just present, in the back of my mind, something I could ignore. But then.” He swallows. “El sealed the gate a year after I disappeared, and something changed. You and El started dating, and I couldn’t look at either of you without…I was revolted by the way I felt. Jealous.”

Mike’s watching him, lips parted, and he can understand why. He’s never been this open with anyone, anyone at all. But it’s all spilling out of him now, and he couldn’t stop the flow even if he wanted to.

“My feelings only got stronger once we moved. I guess combined with the distance and not hearing from you at all, they just continued to pile up. I drew you. Several times. Some sketches, others paintings.”

Mike smiles. “Do you have any of them?”

He giggles. “No, they’re still in California. And if you ask enough, I’ll be sure they’re left there.”

“I’ll see them one way or another.”

They both sober, and Will continues. “This painting behind me, it represents everything I’ve ever felt.” Some of the words break off as he feels himself start to cry. “I tried to keep it from you, tried to make it so that you’d never find it.” He sniffs, then huffs out another laugh. “But you’ve always been stubborn. I should’ve known you’d figure it out.”

Mike’s fingers still, and there’s this look in his eyes that Will’s never seen before. “Well, it should make you feel better that I feel the same.”

Will hears the words, but something about them feels false, as if Mike’s simply trying to please Will. Is this what it’s come to? “Prove it to me.”

“Come here, then.”

Will does as he says, and hovers above Mike. It feels like a strange power move, with Mike sitting and Will standing. Then Mike pats the empty space next to him, and they’re equal in height.

Mike leans in to him as soon as he’s sitting, and stops only inches away from their lips meeting. Will holds his breath in anticipation, waiting for that feeling to return.

Something in Will’s reaction must confirm it for him, for he surges forward and mashes their lips together. It’s even messier than their other kisses, but it feels so authentic, so familiar that Will understands that the proof has been there all along. His hands move up to the nape of Mike’s neck and tugs, fingers tangling in his hair. He lets out a whimper, and Will takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue against Mike’s lips.

Mike seems to find more interest in Will’s neck, and Will remembers something from only hours before.

“Mom asked about the bruises on my neck,” he breathes out, and the hum that comes from Mike sends vibrations down his body.

He pulls away to ask, “Did you tell her where they came from?”

“No, of course not.” He sighs, shutting his eyes tight as Mike’s arms hold them tightly together.

“Next time, you should.”

Will untangles them, laughing. Mike moves forward to put his hand over his mouth. “Shh, you’re gonna wake everyone up!” he exclaims, but he’s laughing, too. Mike lays down, tugging Will along with him.

He doesn’t try to pull away this time, but he gives one last chance of escape, to decide if Mike truly does want this. “I have to go back down to sleep.”

“Just for tonight,” he mumbles into Will’s neck. He’s hugging Will from behind, leaving only to tug the covers over them.

“Okay,” he says, holding Mike’s hands in place on his chest. He sighs, allowing himself this moment of peace, of uninterrupted sleep. Mike’s touch is so warm, so easy to love. So easy to feel safe in.

He’s glad that his best friend can offer this comfort for him again, even after all the ups and downs they’ve had.

He feels Mike’s breath even on his neck, and he leans into that feeling, closing his eyes and letting himself relax.

For the first time in days, he sleeps without nightmares.