Archive of Our Own ^beta

Will was screaming.

The sound tore through the air - high, ragged, animal. Mike didn’t even recognise it at first. It didn’t sound human. It didn’t sound like Will.

Vecna towered above him, hands outstretched, fingers trembling with dark energy. Will trembled on the ground beneath him, his back arching unnaturally, his limbs jerking like he was being ripped apart. His eyes were wide, unseeing, so pained it made Mike feel physically sick. 

Mike couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Vines coiled around his arms, his chest, his throat. Squeezing, tightening, holding him in place like the Upside Down itself wanted him to watch. To witness. To see as its master tortured Will right in front of him and he could do nothing to stop it. Useless. Trapped. Helpless against its hold. 

“Will!” Mike choked out. “Will!”

The world around them pulsed with a sick red light. Ash, snow - whatever the hell it was - drifted slowly, mockingly. Dark particles and cold and fear. Everything that made the Upside Down the Upside Down. Mike could hear the others fighting somewhere behind him, but it felt distant, underwater. He didn’t give a fuck what they were doing. If they were okay or not. All he could see was Will. Will screaming. Will dying. Will in pain. So much pain. And Mike couldn’t do anything about it. Mike couldn’t help. 

He was in hell. His own personal hell. 

“No,” Mike screamed, useless, furious tears in his eyes. “Please, no! Will!” The cry that tore out of him was broken, desperate. His throat was raw from the screaming. But still, he shouted, despite the agony. “Will! Will!” 

And then Will’s body stilled. Not slack, not limp. Focused. His head turned slightly, his eyes searching for Mike’s and their gazes locked. Mike could feel the tears streaming down his face. Could see Will registering him, awareness flickering over his dazed face. 

“Will,” he croaked out. “Will, please.”

Will’s shaking stopped all at once, frozen mid-tremor. His eyes rolled forward, locking on Vecna. Something shifted inside them, something determined and terrifying and familiar all at once.

Will’s voice came out low, strained, as he stared at Vecna with a determination that made Mike tremble. “I’m not… yours. I never have been.”

A shockwave rippled outward. Mike felt it even through the vines, felt it in his bones. Dark energy surged from Will’s hands. The power wasn’t Vecna’s anymore. Will was pulling something from deep inside himself, something he’d always had but only recently discovered he could unleash.

Vecna’s face twisted as his own power snapped back at him.

Will tore the connection away, ripped it from Vecna’s grasp, and for a moment, both of them were screaming.

Then the world cracked like glass.

Light exploded. Vecna’s body jerked backwards, tearing apart in a violent, shattering flash. His shriek was swallowed by the silence that followed.

When it cleared, Will looked at Mike and Mike saw as he mouthed his name, as ‘Mike’ fell from Will’s lips before he collapsed.

The vines around Mike instantly fell away, decaying into ash. He didn’t even feel them hit the ground, he was already running, stumbling, falling beside Will’s crumpled body.

“Will,” he gasped, sliding his arms beneath him, pulling him up against his chest. Will’s head lolled against his shoulder, cold and far too still. “Will, hey, hey, wake up. Will, please.”

Tears blurred everything. His throat burnt from screaming.

“Will, please,” he begged again, voice cracking open. “You did it, you did it, just… just wake up, okay? I’m right here. I’m right here, Will. Please wake up. I need you. Will. Will! Don’t leave me. Come on, Will. Please.”

But Will didn’t move.

Mike pressed his forehead to Will’s, shaking, sobbing into his hair as the battlefield around them went silent. Mike couldn’t think about anyone else. If they were alright, if they were here, Mike could only focus on Will. Will, who was still and pale. Mike held him closer. Will wasn’t waking up. He wasn’t waking up and Mike could do nothing about it and Will, Will was, Will was gone-

Mike jolted upright in bed with a strangled gasp.

For a second, he didn’t know where he was, didn’t know what world he had woken into. His hands clawed instinctively at his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt as if he could tear the terror out of himself. His lungs heaved, barely pulling in air, and his heartbeat hammered so violently he thought he might actually be dying.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. Will’s okay. Will’s alive. Will’s downstairs in the basement. Will’s okay.

He repeated it like a prayer, like a spell he could force to be true through sheer repetition, like saying it enough times would anchor reality.

His breath hitched anyway.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Shit, don’t cry.

He dragged a shaky hand through his sweat-soaked hair, pushing the damp strands back from his forehead. His fingers trembled. Every part of him felt electric, overcharged, wrong. The nightmare still clung to him like smoke. Will’s screaming echoing in his ears, Vecna’s silhouette burnt behind his eyelids.

He opened his eyes, but the room was too dark, too quiet. His chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. He pressed the heel of his palm over his chest, feeling the frantic fluttering of his heart beneath his hand, like a trapped bird. Desperate, frantic, slamming against the bone.

Mike forced himself to breathe slower. In. Out. In. Out.

But every inhale brought a new wave of panic up his throat. Brought more fear and despair.

He bowed forward, elbows to his knees, one hand fisted in his hair, the other still pressed to his chest as if he could physically hold himself together. The sheets were twisted around his legs, damp with sweat. His shirt clung to him, cold and sticky.

Will’s okay, he told himself again. Will’s okay. He’s downstairs. He’s alive. He’s real. He’s breathing. He’s okay. 

Mike let out a slow, unsteady exhale.

But it did little to quiet the shaking in his hands. Or the way his heart still raced like it was trying to outrun something he couldn’t see.

Because it wasn’t just a dream.

It wasn’t some random nightmare his brain pieced together out of the shadows, stitching it to life like a tapestry in his mind. It wasn’t something his subconscious had made out of what ifs or make believe scenarios. It was real. It was a memory.

A memory of only a couple weeks ago, fresh enough that Mike could still smell the burning air of the Upside Down if he thought about it too hard. Fresh enough that he could still feel the weight of Will’s body in his arms, limp and cold. Fresh enough that he could still hear the heart-stopping silence afterwards, that awful moment before Will finally, finally took that first shallow breath again.

He could still remember the cold of the Upside Down. Could feel the chill to his bones. Could clearly see Vecna sucking the life out of Will. He could remember the exact look on Will’s face, the twisted agony. The way he had felt in Mike’s arms. The way he had been so, so still. 

He could hear Will’s screams like they were happening right now. In this room. They echoed against his skull, the memory ricocheting like bullets. 

They had defeated Vecna. Destroyed the Upside Down once and for all. And everyone kept saying it was done. It’s over. You’re safe now. The world is safe now. We can move on. We can finally live. 

But Mike knew better. The danger might be gone, but the memory wasn’t. The memory had its claws in him. And memories had the power to destroy you. 

It lived behind his eyes. It curled in his chest like a knot of barbed wire. It haunted his every thought, every breath. The memories would never leave him. Mike knew. He knew they would stay with him until the day he died, just like the memory of Will’s lifeless body being pulled from the lake haunted his memory. Fake, as it turned out, but still real enough to Mike that it had haunted his dreams for 4 years. 

And now, the memory of Will nearly dying. The memory of Mike screaming for him, begging him, powerless to stop any of it. The memory he couldn’t wash off no matter how hard he tried. It would never leave him alone. 

Mike had been so close to losing him. So close to Will never waking up. So close to the world ending, not because of Vecna, but because Mike couldn’t imagine living in a world where Will wasn’t.

And Mike felt sick with it. Felt ill with how vividly it still lived inside of him. Felt broken by it, like something had cracked open inside him that night and never healed right.

He pressed his shaking hand harder against his chest, as if he could calm the frantic rhythm beneath. As if he could hold the pieces of himself in place.

Will was alive. Breathing. Healing. Laughing again. Will was downstairs right now, probably asleep, probably curled up in that stupid warm blanket of his, safe. Will was doing better than ever. 

And Mike?

Mike was slowly falling apart. Quietly. Secretly. Piece by piece.

The kind of falling apart no one could see, not when he smiled, not when he joked, not when he told everyone he was okay. But inside, the memory kept replaying, and every time it felt like losing Will all over again.

He took a ragged breath and glanced over at his watch where it lay on his bedside table. 8 a.m.

Too late, too early. Time didn’t feel real anyway.

He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed. He needed to shower. The sweat from his nightmare had completely soaked through his clothes. His shirt clung to him unpleasantly, cold and damp. He rubbed his chest once more, trying to regain his breath. He swallowed hard and pushed himself upright, legs shaky beneath him as he made his way to the bathroom.

Thankfully, it was empty.

He slipped into the room and locked the door. Mike stumbled out of his clothes and stepped under the shower spray. The water hit him icy cold at first, shocking his skin, but he didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. He let it batter against him - sharp, punishing, grounding - as if the cold could somehow carve the terror out of him. As if it were atonement for nearly letting Will die. For being helpless. For failing him.

And he knew, he knew, Will didn’t see it that way. Will, who smiled at him so sweetly and thanked Mike for saving him. 

Mike didn’t feel like he’d saved Will. He felt like he’d stood there and watched the most important person in the world to him nearly die. 

The most important person in the world to him. 

Just another thing Mike tried not to think about. 

The chill prickled across his scalp and down his spine until eventually the water warmed, steam fogging the glass. Only then did he reach for the shampoo with trembling fingers.

He washed quickly, mechanically, scrubbing at his hair, his arms, his chest, trying to wash away the nightmare that clung to his thoughts. When he stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around himself and dressed with hands that still wouldn’t quite stop shaking.

By the time he headed downstairs, the house was still quiet. Empty.

Mom and dad were still in the hospital recovering. Mrs Byers had left early to see Hopper. Nancy and Jonathan had taken Holly with them to WSQK. The silence felt too heavy, too hollow, as if the walls were holding their breath.

Mike lingered at the bottom of the stairs and glanced toward the basement door.

Will should be down there. Alive. Awake. Breathing.

Safe.

And Mike needed to see him. Needed to see him to calm the beating of his heart. To finally be able to breathe without terror. 

He headed over to the door and knocked lightly, before pushing it open. He stepped inside and walked down the stairs. Will was sat on the couch, curled up with his sketch pad and Mike had to stop for a moment, taking him in. 

Will was here. Alive. Happy. Beautiful. 

Mike didn’t know when he first realised Will was beautiful.

Maybe it wasn’t a realisation at all - no single moment, no sudden shock of clarity - but something that had always existed in the quiet spaces of his mind. A truth he’d carried unknowingly, like a secret folded into the lining of his heart. Will was his best friend. Will was beautiful. Brave. Soft in ways that made Mike ache. Selfless in ways that terrified him.

Will was everything. More than Mike had language for. More than he could explain without ripping open something delicate inside himself. Will consumed him. Quietly, completely. Sometimes Mike felt like if he got too close, his ribcage might splinter apart from the force of everything he wasn’t saying.

Will was… everything.

Will looked up from his sketchbook the moment the basement door creaked. His pencil paused mid-line, and when he saw Mike standing there, his whole face lit up.

“Mike,” he said, grinning, bright and soft all at once. “Hey.”

Mike swallowed, something tight and aching loosening in his chest. Instantly, instantly, he felt lighter. Happier. Like the nightmare had been shoved back into whatever dark corner it crawled out of.

Will was here. Will was alive. Warm and real and right in front of him.

He was curled up on the old basement couch with a thick blanket draped over his lap, socked feet tucked under him. Morning light filtered through the small window, catching on the edges of his hair and the worn pages of his sketchbook. His cheeks were pink, his eyes soft and bright, and the sight of him hit Mike so hard he almost forgot how to breathe.

For a split second, Mike just stood there, gripping the railing, taking him in. Will looked… perfect. Safe. Peaceful. Completely unaware of the storm that had ripped Mike apart only minutes ago upstairs.

Mike’s voice came out quieter than he meant. “Hey.”

Will tilted his head, still smiling, still glowing in that gentle Will way that always made Mike feel like the world wasn’t as terrifying as it really was.

And Mike felt it again, the rush of relief so sharp it almost hurt.

Will was okay. Will was fine. And Mike could feel his heart slowly, gently, returning to normal.

Mike moved over to the couch and sat down beside Will. The old cushions dipped under his weight, and Will shifted slightly to make room. The blanket pooled in his lap, and the edge brushed lightly against Mike’s knee.

“Sorry,” Will said quietly, though he didn’t sound sorry at all, more… shyly amused. “Didn’t mean to take up the whole couch.”

“You didn’t,” Mike murmured, softly. “It’s fine.”

Will’s smile ticked up again, small and warm. He closed his sketchbook, tucking the pencil into the spiral, and turned a little towards him. Not fully, just enough that Mike could feel his attention shift, gentle and focused.

“Did you sleep okay?” Will asked, tone light but caring in that way that always made Mike’s chest tighten.

Mike hesitated. Only for a moment. “Yeah,” he lied, but Will was already squinting at him, not buying it for a second.

“Mhm.” Will pulled the blanket a little higher on himself, then nudged a corner of it in Mike’s direction without even looking at him directly. “You look… tired.”

Mike blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Will laughed, the quiet, breathy kind that made Mike feel stupidly warm. “Just… y’know. Like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Mike muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched anyway and he ended up grinning and sagging further into the couch.

Will nudged him with his shoulder. Barely a bump, more like a soft lean. “You can have some blanket, you know,” he said, voice shy and teasing all at once. “You look cold.”

Mike was cold. But more than that, he just wanted to be close.

So he shifted, letting their knees brush, and pulled a small part of the blanket into his lap. Will didn’t pull away. Instead, he tucked himself a little nearer, as if sharing warmth was the most natural thing in the world.

And for the first time that morning, Mike felt something quiet settle inside him. Something easy. Something safe.

“Better?” Will asked softly.

“Yeah,” Mike said, eyes lingering on Will a moment too long. “A lot.”

And he was. Sat here beside Will, wrapped in the shared warmth of the blanket, Mike felt lighter. The brutal nightmare that had woken him in a panic was already fading from his thoughts, retreating into the background where it belonged. Being near Will always did that, pulled him back to earth, steadied him.

He nudged Will playfully with his shoulder.

Will blinked in surprise, then grinned and nudged him back, harder than necessary.

“Hey!” Mike laughed, pretending to be offended, which only made Will laugh harder.

“Sorry,” Will said through a smile that absolutely did not look sorry. “Didn’t realise you were so fragile.”

“Fragile?” Mike gasped dramatically. “I’ll have you know I’m very strong.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Sure you are.”

“Ask anyone,” Mike insisted.

“Nah,” Will said, leaning back into him with an exaggerated sigh, “think I’ll just live with the disappointment.”

Mike bumped him again, softer this time. Will bumped him back. And then they were both laughing, quietly at first, then warm and breathless, their shoulders knocking together in a clumsy little rhythm.

The basement felt brighter. Warmer. Like the world wasn’t something to fear anymore.

Will’s laughter finally softened into a shy smile, one he tried to hide by looking down at his sketchbook. Mike watched him for a moment, chest full in that too-big, too-warm way he could never quite control around Will.

It felt… easy. Just them. Just this.

A moment later, Will’s stomach grumbled loudly. Mike snorted out a laugh as Will looked up, horrified. 

“Someone’s hungry,” Mike teased. 

Will rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, his cheeks flushed. “Shut up, Mike. I haven’t had breakfast yet. I was waiting for someone to wake up.”

And Mike blinked slowly at that, at the knowledge that Will had been waiting for him. Mike smiled slowly and stood up. 

“Well then,” he grinned, offering Will his hand. “I guess I should make us breakfast. How about I make pancakes?” 

Mike was surprisingly good at making pancakes, something that shocked his friends and family no end. But Will loved Mike’s pancakes and Mike loved making them for him. 

Will took Mike’s hand, warm and sure, and Mike pulled him to his feet. Will wobbled as he gained his balance and they stumbled straight into each other.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Their chests brushed. Mike’s hand was still curled around Will’s. Will’s breath caught. Their eyes met, too close, too intense, the kind of moment that made Mike’s thoughts short-circuit entirely.

Then Will’s stomach rumbled again. Loudly.

Will flushed scarlet. Mike laughed quietly, the tension breaking like a soap bubble.

“Come on, let’s get you some food,” he teased.

Will ducked his head with an embarrassed little smile, and Mike let go of his hand, reluctantly, if he was honest. They stepped apart and headed towards the stairs, both smiling, Mike pretending his heart wasn’t still racing. 

But when Mike reached for the doorknob and twisted it, it stopped dead.

He frowned and tried again. Nothing. The door didn’t budge.

“What…?” Mike muttered, pushing harder, bracing his shoulder against the wood. “It’s stuck.”

Will hovered behind him. “Stuck how? Like… stuck stuck?”

Mike rattled the knob again, more urgently this time. It didn’t even wiggle. “It won’t open,” he said, voice tight with disbelief.

Will stepped forward and tried it himself. The handle refused to turn under his hand, as if something on the other side was holding it in place.

“Okay,” Will said slowly, backing up a step. “That’s… weird.”

Mike’s stomach dropped. “We’re… stuck.”

Will blinked at him, startled. “No, we’re not. I mean, maybe the door just jammed. It does that sometimes.”

They both shoved at it. Together, then one at a time, then together again, but the door wouldn’t budge. Mike braced a shoulder against it. Will leaned his whole weight into the wood. Nothing. Not even a creak.

Finally, they gave up, breathless but not alarmed, and just stared at each other.

“We could call for help?” Will suggested, sounding uncertain even as he said it.

Mike frowned. “Everyone’s out and won’t be back till dinner.” He glanced down at the dusty shelf by the stairs. The old basement phone sat there, dead and cracked, broken months ago, and no one had bothered replacing it. “And the phone’s broken.”

Will winced. “Right. Forgot about that.”

Mike scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Do you have a walkie? We could call someone on that.”

Will shrugged helplessly. “No. I just use yours.”

Which was true. They lived together, orbiting around each other more often than not. They hardly ever spent more than a few minutes apart these days, so neither of them saw the point in Will carrying his own walkie anymore. 

Mike breathed out slowly. “Right. Of course you don’t.”

Will gave him a tiny, sheepish smile.

Mike swallowed. “I guess… we’re stuck down here then. Until someone comes home.”

Will blinked, then nodded. “Yeah. Looks like it.”

There was a small pause. Quiet, close, strangely warm.

Will  gave Mike a soft, almost shy look.  “Well,” he said, “we can survive a few hours, right?”

Mike huffed a small laugh. “Yeah. I mean… it’s not like we haven’t been stuck in worse places.”

Will grinned. “The Upside Down doesn’t count.”

Mike nudged him with his elbow. “Still got stuck there and survived it.”

Mike smiled at him, really smiled, and for a moment, the stuck door didn’t feel like a problem at all. It felt almost… cosy. If Mike was going to be stuck in a room with anyone, he was glad it was with Will. 

Then Will’s stomach rumbled. Again. Shit. 

“We still have snacks down here, right?” Mike wondered out loud, making his way over to the cupboard in the corner. 

He could hear Will following behind him. Not rushing, just staying close. The sound of Will close by made something settle in his chest. A reminder that Will was okay. And alive.

Mike crouched and pulled the cupboard open. He squinted into the dim space, grinning when he spotted a couple bags of chips and a crinkled bag of Reese’s Pieces tucked behind a stack of board games. He grabbed the Reese’s Pieces. 

He turned, standing, and tossed the bag towards Will. 

“Your favourite,” Mike said, grinning, his voice softer than he meant to.

He was always so soft for Will. 

Will caught the bag easily. He glanced up at Mike, smiling. “Thanks, Mike.”

Mike swallowed. Hard.

There was something about the way Will looked at him, open and warm, that made Mike’s skin feel too tight, like electricity was crawling just beneath it. His heart thudded against his ribs, loud enough he was half-convinced Will could hear it.

“No problem,” Mike said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Will sank down onto the floor nearby, cross-legged, tearing the bag open. The sound of it echoed softly through the basement. He offered the bag out without even looking, just trusting Mike to take some.

Mike did. Their fingers brushed.

It was barely anything, just a quick, accidental touch, but it sent a jolt straight through him. He froze, breath caught somewhere in his chest, then forced himself to relax when Will didn’t pull away. Didn’t seem uncomfortable. If anything, he smiled wider.

“You okay?” Will asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Mike said, too quickly. Then, more honestly, “Yeah. I am.”

And he was. The nightmare - the memory - was shoved to the back of his mind. He felt calmer when he was with Will, less like he was about to crack open, to rip at the seams. 

He sat down beside Will, their shoulders touching. The contact was light, easy. But it settled something deep inside of him. Mike let himself lean into it just a little, feeling the warmth of Will through his sleeve. 

“So,” Mike said, taking another piece of chocolate and looking over at Will. 

Will looked back at him. They were so close. Mike could probably count Will’s eyelashes if he tried. 

Mike needed to distract himself.  “Want to play a game?” he asked. 

Will grinned. “Sure. Anything.”

And Mike grinned back at him. Maybe being stuck in here all day wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

*****

“Are you a girl?” Mike asked, squinting down at his game board, scanning the little faces that gazed back at him, 

Will snorted, the sound bright, and when he looked up he was grinning. Wide and unguarded and ridiculously beautiful. Mike felt heat rush to his face and immediately hated how obvious it probably was.

Will was so beautiful that sometimes, Mike thought he might die just from looking at him. 

There had been a time, a couple years ago now, when Mike had thought that simply touching Will might end him. Mike refused to think about it. About what it meant. About what it said about him that the most beautiful person in the world to him was his best friend. His boy best friend. 

“Yes,” Will said, clearly amused, eyes shining. “I’m a girl.”

Mike huffed out a laugh despite himself, shaking his head. He glanced back down at his Guess Who board, suddenly very invested in the tiny plastic faces staring up at him. Without another word, he reached out and knocked down every remaining guy in one swift motion.

Will laughed, full and warm, and the sound curled pleasantly in Mike’s chest. 

“You knocked down most of the people left!” Will argued. 

Mike could hear the laughter in his voice. 

Mike shrugged, still not looking up. “I mean, you said you’re a girl. There are more boys on here than girls. Everybody knows that!”

“Oh, everybody?” Will teased. 

He risked a glance at Will then, just for a second, and caught Will watching him with that same soft smile. It made Mike’s stomach flip in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the game. 

Will was unfairly pretty. 

Something twisted in Mike’s stomach. Sharp, fluttery, nauseating. He had to look away. Sometimes, looking at Will was the worst thing in the world. 

Why did Will have to look at him like that? Why did Mike feel like his heart would beat right out of his chest every time Will so much as blinked at him? 

Mike swallowed and fiddled with one of the little plastic tabs, trying to focus on literally anything else. He told himself it was just the lingering terror from his nightmare that made him cling to Will like this, even if only in his thoughts. He told himself it was the trauma. The fear from 4 years ago that had never left him. Years of losing and worrying and fear and monsters. They were bound together through trauma, 

And to an extent, Mike knew that it was true. Him and the Party were bound, through years of shared experiences. Years of enduring things no one else would ever understand. 

But with Will, it was different. It had always been different. And for Mike it was getting harder and harder to ignore that. 

Every time Will laughed. Every time they touched. Every time Will looked in his direction. Mike felt like the world was on fire, flames licking at his skin, burning him from the inside out. 

Totally normal best friend stuff. 

Except his heart wouldn’t stop racing, and his palms felt warm, and he couldn’t shake the thought - unhelpful and persistent - that Will was really, really pretty. Not in the way girls at school were pretty. Not in the way he’d always thought El was pretty. Just… Will. Soft and familiar and somehow brighter than everything else in the room.

Mike didn’t know why that mattered so much. He just knew that sitting across from Will like this made his chest feel too full, like he wanted to stay here forever and also crawl out of his own skin.

Mike swallowed and focused back on the game. 

“Do you have glasses?” Will asked. 

Mike smirked. “Nope. Do you?”

Will sighed and muttered, “Yes.”

Mike knocked down the cards, except one and grinned over at Will in victory. Will rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. 

“Seriously, Mike. How do you always win Guess Who?”

Mike shrugged, tapping the edge of the board with his finger. “I don’t know. It’s not my fault the game makes it obvious.”

“Obvious,” Will repeated, clearly unconvinced. He leant forward, resting his chin in his hand. “You just ask the weirdest questions!”

“They’re strategic,” Mike said defensively. “You’ve gotta narrow things down.”

Will hummed, eyes flicking over Mike’s face instead of the board. “So what would you ask next, then?”

Mike blinked, his gaze dropping to Will’s mouth before he could stop it. He swallowed and forced himself to look back up, meeting Will’s eyes. “In the game?”

Will smiled. “Yeah. In the game.”

Mike thought for a second, then squinted at Will. “Does your person have… really nice hair?”

Will laughed. “That’s not a real question.”

“It could be,” Mike insisted. “I mean, if they did, you’d know.”

Will shook his head, still smiling. “That’s subjective, you idiot,” he said, affection clear in his tone. “You’re impossible.”

Mike grinned back, feeling oddly pleased. “You love it.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. He froze for half a second, waiting for that familiar drop of panic, but Will just laughed again, softer this time.

“Maybe,” Will said, meeting Mike’s eyes.

Something warm spread through Mike’s chest, and he told himself it was just the win, just the game, just the fact that Will always looked at him like that. Totally normal. Completely harmless.

He reached forward to start setting the board back up. “Rematch,” he said quickly. “Best two out of three.”

Will’s smile widened. “You’re on.”

And if their knees brushed under the table this time, neither of them said anything about it.

*****

Mike lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“This is impossible,” he groaned. “I already know everything about you.”

Will snickered from where he sat with his back against the couch. Mike tilted his head to look at him, and his heart stuttered. Will was beautiful, sometimes so much that Mike wasn’t sure how he was supposed to handle it.

“I’m sure you can think of something to ask,” Will said, grinning.

They’d abandoned Guess Who for 20 Questions, except Mike had barely made it past the first one. This was Will. Mike knew his favourite chocolate, the songs he put on depending on his mood, the films he loved, the books he’d read over and over again. Mike knew Will, maybe better than he knew himself. 

And the questions he wanted to ask, that he longed for an answer to, he couldn’t. Mike couldn’t ask Will… he shoved the thoughts away. 

So what could he possibly ask his best friend that he didn’t already know? 

Then Mike sat up, a grin spreading across his face.

“Who was your first crush?”

Will froze for just a second.

It was so brief Mike almost missed it, but he caught the way Will’s fingers stilled against the floor, the way his smile faltered before settling back into place. Mike’s stomach dipped, sudden and uneasy.

“That’s your question?” Will asked, light, like it didn’t matter.

“Yeah,” Mike said, shrugging. “It counts. You never told me.”

Will huffed out a quiet laugh and ducked his head, eyes fixed somewhere near his knees. “You’re such a menace,” he muttered.

Mike smiled, pleased. “You love me.”

Again, those words slipped out too easily. He hadn’t meant to say them. He noticed as Will’s ears turned pink and Mike couldn’t help but wonder if it was the words, or the words coming from him. 

Will was quiet for a moment longer than the rules technically allowed. The basement hummed around them, the lights buzzing faintly overhead, the air warm and familiar. Mike waited, watching the way Will chewed his bottom lip between his teeth, and felt that strange, full feeling bloom in his chest again.

Finally, Will said, “It was… someone I knew.”

Mike rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “That’s cheating. You have to be specific.”

Will glanced up at him then, and for a second the look in his eyes made Mike’s breath catch. It wasn’t teasing or playful. It was something softer. Something careful. Mike wanted to reach out, to touch Will, to hold his fucking hand. 

But he didn’t. 

“They were kind,” Will said quietly. “And loud. And they never shut up.”

Mike laughed, even as something akin to jealousy clawed at his stomach, leaving him nauseous. And it was stupid, so fucking stupid. This was Will. Mike had no right to be jealous. Will was his friend. His best friend. The most important person in the world to him. But they weren’t… Mike wasn’t… Will didn’t… 

He couldn’t finish the thought. 

“Wow. Sounds annoying,” he choked out. His voice was surprisingly steady. 

Mike had gotten good at pretending things were okay when they weren’t. At pretending like he wasn’t falling apart. 

“Yeah,” Will agreed, smiling a little. “But they made me feel safe. Like… like things were less scary when they were around.”

Something warm settled low in Mike’s chest, heavy and unfamiliar. He didn’t know, didn’t want to acknowledge, why hearing that made his throat feel tight. Why the jealously inside of him was clawing its way to the surface. 

“So?” Mike prompted gently. “What happened?”

Will shrugged, resting his head back against the couch. “I don’t know. I guess I just… never really stopped caring.”

“Wait,” Mike sat up fully. “You still like them?”

Will sighed and shrugged again. “I’ve only ever liked one person. But… but they don’t like me. Not like that. So.”

Mike nodded, absorbing that like it was just another fact about Will, like his favourite colour or the way he hated olives. Totally normal. Totally fine. He was totally not seething with anger or jealousy. But he couldn’t stop his mind from spinning. 

Where had this girl been when Will was dying in Mike’s arms just a few weeks ago? Where had she been when Will was possessed by the Mind Flayer. When he was missing, when everything had gone wrong, when Will had been dragged through hell again and again over the past few years?

Mike couldn’t make it make sense.

Who could Will possibly like?

He tried to picture it, running through every girl they knew. Every girl they’d known for years. But none of their faces fit. The girls from school barely registered, Will hardly spoke to any of them at all. And Mike knew, with a certainty that settled heavy in his chest, that it wasn’t El. It wasn’t Max either.

So who was left?

The question lingered, unanswered, gnawing at him in a way he didn’t quite understand and didn’t know how to stop.

But then he thought, fleetingly, what if it wasn’t a girl at all. What if Will… what if… And something sharp coiled in Mike’s chest, squeezing at his heart in a way that was painful.

Mike shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and focused back on Will. 

“Huh,” Mike said. “Well, she’s an idiot. Because you’re the best person there is and whoever she is is lucky you’ve spent your whole life crushing on her.”

Will smiled at him, soft and unreadable. “Yeah. An idiot. Your turn.”

Mike blinked. “What?”

“It’s 20 Questions,” Will said. “You have to answer too.”

“Oh.” Mike hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”

Will tilted his head, studying him. “Really?”

Mike lay back down and stared back up at the ceiling, heart doing that weird fluttery thing again. For some reason, it felt easier not to look at Will right now.

“Yeah,” he said honestly. “I mean… obviously there was El. Even though we’ve broken up, I obviously liked her. But, I don’t know if she was my first crush, you know?”

Will watched him for a long moment, then smiled, gentle and patient.

“Okay,” he said. “Your question.”

Mike exhaled, relieved, and grinned. “Alright. Next one’s gonna be way easier.”

Will laughed. “Ask anything, Mike. I’ll answer. Promise.”

Mike swallowed. That was a dangerous promise to make.

There were a thousand things Mike wanted to ask, flickering through his mind. He wanted to ask if Will ever thought Mike was beautiful, the way Mike couldn’t help thinking it about Will. He wanted to ask if Will felt it too, that strange, fluttery, almost electric feeling that sparked whenever their hands brushed or their shoulders touched for just a second too long.

If Will ever thought about kissing him, in that distant, abstract way Mike tried very hard not to think about. That way that Mike refused to fully acknowledge. If Will ever imagined closing the space between them, leaning in, not pulling away.

And then there were the heavier questions. The ones that lingered long after the lights were off. He wanted to ask if Will still thought about that day a few weeks ago, when everything had almost ended. If he woke up in the middle of the night with his heart racing, breath coming too fast, needing proof that Mike was still there, still alive and breathing, the same way Mike did. If the nightmares haunted Will in the same way they did Mike. 

The questions crowded his mind, tangled together, all too close to the surface.

Mike asked none of them. Instead, he sighed, forced a grin and asked, “Was it really you who ate the last cookie after our campaign or did you just cover for Dustin?”

Will groaned. “Mike! That was three years ago!”

Mike snickered. “And I still don’t believe you when you said you ate it! Dustin literally had crumbs on his face!’

Will shook his head, laughing. “Fine! Fine, it was Dustin. We lied because we knew you wouldn’t get mad at me.”

Mike’s smirk softened to a gentle smile. “I guess that’s true. You’re impossible to stay mad at.”

He met Will’s gaze and was startled by that look again, the one Will often wore but Mike couldn't read. Soft, searching and something, something so similar to - Longing? Love? Want? Mike didn’t know. But all he cared about was that Will never looked at anyone else like that, not once. And it settled something inside of him to know that he was special to Will, too. 

*********

“I’m hungry,” Mike moaned where he sat on the couch. 

They’d already finished the chocolates. All that was left were a couple of packets of chips, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. They were going to be stuck in the basement for several more hours before anyone came home, and Mike had a bad feeling that the hunger was only going to get worse from here.

Will sighed, then grabbed one of the packets and lobbed it at Mike’s head. “Let’s share,” he said. “We can save the second one for later.”

Mike caught the packet, or, more accurately, fumbled it before it slipped through his fingers and landed on the floor. He laughed under his breath as he picked it up.

“Salt and vinegar,” he said, inspecting it. “Bold choice.”

“It’s the best flavour,” Will replied immediately, scooting closer and leaning his shoulder against Mike’s. “You just have bad opinions. Besides, it’s not like we have a range of choices down here.”

Mike snorted and tore the packet open, the sharp scent filling the air. He held it out between them without thinking, settling back against the couch beside Will.

They ate slowly, passing the packet back and forth. Sometimes Will reached in at the same time Mike did, their fingers bumping together, and every single time Mike’s brain short-circuited a little. He pretended not to notice, even though his ears felt warm and his heart kept doing that stupid fluttery thing.

“Hey,” Will said after a moment, peering into the bag. “You’re taking all the big ones.”

“That’s not true,” Mike said automatically.

Will raised an eyebrow. “Is too.”

Mike grinned and tipped the packet towards Will. “Fine. You take the next handful.”

Will did, deliberately slow, eyes flicking up to Mike like he was waiting for a reaction. Mike looked away quickly, focusing very hard on the wall across the basement.

They kept eating until the bag was almost empty, crumbs scattered across their jeans. Mike licked salt from his fingers without thinking and then froze when he noticed Will watching him.

“What?” Mike asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” Will said, smiling softly. “Just… nothing.”

Mike nodded, even though he didn’t understand, and shook the last few chips into his palm. He hesitated, then offered them to Will.

“You can have the last ones,” he said.

Will looked at him for a second, surprised, then smiled in that quiet, fond way that made Mike’s chest ache. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, shrugging. “I’ll survive.”

Will took the chips, their fingers brushing again, and for some reason that small touch felt warmer than anything else in the room.

They sat there like that for a while afterwards, knees pressed together, the quiet stretching comfortably between them. Mike leaned his head back against the couch and let his eyes fall shut.

He was so tired.

Sleep had been a mess lately. Restless, fractured, tangled up with memories he couldn’t quite outrun. He hadn’t slept properly since Will had almost died. Again. Every night blurred into the next, haunted by the same sharp fear, the same helpless dread. Waking up always felt like dragging himself back from the edge. The nightmares wouldn’t leave him alone. They haunted his dreams every night and Mike felt like he was slowly losing his sanity from the combination of fear and exhaustion. 

But now… now was different.

With Will sitting beside him, warm and solid and real, something inside Mike finally loosened. Will was here, alive. And the constant fear that haunted Mike’s every moment stayed dormant in Will’s presence. Mike let himself relax. His breathing slowed. The tight knot in his chest eased just enough that he could breathe around it. He felt calmer. Safer. Like the world wasn’t quite as heavy when Will was right there.

He felt like might finally be able to sleep. 

He felt Will shift beside him, careful not to jostle him. Heard the soft crumple of the empty chip packet as Will rolled it up and lobbed it across the room. A second later, Will settled back against him, their shoulders pressing together again.

“Mike?”

Mike hummed quietly in response, eyes still closed, sinking further into the couch as he focused on breathing in, then out.

Will was quiet for a moment, like he was thinking something over. Then he said softly, “Never mind. Enjoy your nap, sleepyhead.”

Mike smiled without opening his eyes and tilted his head just slightly towards Will, close enough to feel his warmth more clearly. “Wake me up in an hour,” he murmured.

Will snickered under his breath. “Sure, Mike. Sure.”

Mike drifted off to the sound of Will’s quiet laughter and the steady reassurance of him right there, close enough that nothing could get him.

*****

Mike woke up slowly, blinking against the dim basement light. His mind was hazy. For a moment, he didn’t move, just took in the quiet and the strange, pleasant feeling of being warm and rested. For the first time in weeks, he woke up naturally, calmly. No nightmares. No terror. No panic. 

He felt… peaceful. 

His head was pillowed on something solid. On someone.

Mike froze for half a second and then realised his head was resting on Will’s shoulder. Will hadn’t moved him. Hadn’t woken him. He was still there, steady and close, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it felt nice. So nice that Mike didn’t want to move. He couldn’t remember being this comfortable. This content. 

Mike shifted ever so slightly and caught sight of what Will was doing. Will had his sketchbook balanced on his knees, pencil moving softly across the page. A dragon was taking shape beneath his hand, detailed and familiar, like something straight out of one of Will’s notebooks.

It made Mike want to smile. He loved Will’s drawings. He always had. He had binders full of them, others scattered across his bedroom wall. And the painting Will had done for him last Spring was framed and hanging above his bed. 

Warmth bloomed low in his chest, soft and unguarded. Without really thinking about it, Mike let himself sink back into Will’s shoulder, nose brushing against the side of Will’s neck as he sighed contentedly.

Will’s pencil paused. But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t nudge Mike off him. 

“Hey,” Will said softly. “Guess you were tired, huh? You’ve been asleep for a couple hours.”

Mike burrowed closer. “Haven’t been sleeping well,” he answered honestly, his lips moving against Will’s skin when he spoke and he felt the shudder that ran through Will’s body. 

“Oh?” Will put his pencil down and moved his sketch book to the side. “Something wrong?”

Mike swallowed. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

They sat quietly for a while. Mike was so comfortable against Will and he wished they could always be this close. Will brought Mike a quiet, steady peace he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling.

Mike didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to disturb the warmth and weight of Will beside him, but his bladder had other plans.

With a quiet sigh, he carefully shifted away.

“You okay?” Will asked, turning to look at him. 

Mike smiled. “Just need the bathroom. Be right back.”

Mike stood and padded towards the bathroom. 

He used the toilet quickly, then lingered at the sink longer than necessary. He left the tap running as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked tired, even now after an undisturbed nap, dark circles under his eyes, shoulders a little too tense.

And then, unbidden, the image slammed into him.

Will’s body, limp and terrifyingly still in his arms. The weight of him. The fear clawing up Mike’s throat, sharp and breathless, like it might swallow him whole all over again.

Mike squeezed his eyes shut.

Not now. Not now. Not when he’d been feeling so calm, so peaceful. Shit, shit, he needed Will, needed to see Will. He couldn’t fucking breathe. 

He forced the memory away, grounding himself in small, familiar things - the cold water over his hands, the smell of soap, the steady rhythm of his breathing. In. Out. Alive. Will is alive.

Will was just on the other side of the door, alive, okay, happy. 

When he looked back up, the reflection staring back seemed a little steadier. He swallowed. Mike hated how one minute he could be laughing with Will and the next the memories were crashing into his mind in a wave so strong he felt like he was drowning in it, sucked under water from the pressure. 

He looked down and turned off the tap. He dried his hands and opened the door. Will was right where he’d left him.

The sight of him - curled up comfortably, sketchbook still beside him - sent an immediate wave of relief through Mike’s chest. He crossed the room without thinking and settled back down beside him, close enough to feel his warmth again.

Only then did Mike finally relax, like everything was back where it belonged. Only then did the calm, the peace, return. 

*****

“It’s a shit movie!” Mike exclaimed, waving the tape in the air like it might personally offend him. “Come on, Will. There are so many other options.”

Will just shrugged, unfazed. “But I want to watch it, Mike. Come on. Please?”

Mike opened his mouth to argue and then stopped.

Will was looking at him with those big, earnest eyes, lips slightly down turned. He looked soft in the light, hair falling across his forehead, expression open and hopeful. Stupidly beautiful. There was no other way to describe it. Mike felt something give in his chest and sighed, already knowing he’d lost.

“Fine,” Mike said, dropping the tape onto the pile with exaggerated resignation. “Fine. We can watch Grease if it’ll make you happy.”

Will snorted, blinking in surprise. “Mike! Seriously? I was joking! I didn’t think you’d actually give in!”

Mike shot him a playful glare. “Oh, so now I’m not allowed to be generous?”

Will laughed, bright and delighted, and Mike felt ridiculously proud of himself for being the reason. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Will said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike muttered. “Don’t get used to it.” Mike glanced over at Will, who was smiling brightly. “What do you actually want to watch then?”

Will tugged on his lip with his teeth, thinking, and Mike couldn’t tear his eyes away. He swallowed. Shit. It was getting harder and harder to deny the strange feelings he had about Will Byers. 

The most important person in the world to him. 

“Ghostbusters,” Will said, grinning. “We haven’t watched it in ages.”

Mike grinned back and dug through the pile of tapes until he found the right one. He slid it into the machine, then moved to sit beside Will on the couch. The tape was still at the end, so he rewound it, the quiet whir filling the room.

As it rewound, Will nudged a little closer. Mike didn’t move away. Instead, he pressed closer, that same familiar peace coiling through his veins. They ended up pressed together, shoulder to shoulder on the couch, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Ready?” Mike asked when the tape was back at the beginning, glancing over at Will. 

“I’m ready when you are,” Will answered softly, gazing at Mike with that look on his face. 

Mike swallowed. “Yeah,” he said, voice cracking. “Yeah, okay.” 

And he hit play. 

********

“Found a Coke!” Will said, sounding triumphant as he dug through his backpack.

Mike glanced over just in time to see Will pull out a can, holding it up like a prize. 

“You’ve been hiding that this whole time?” Mike asked, mock-offended.

Will grinned. “I forgot it was even in there.”

Mike snorted and shifted closer as Will cracked it open, the hiss sharp in the quiet basement. Will took the first sip, then handed it over without hesitation. Mike drank next, the cold fizz biting pleasantly at his tongue. He tried not to think about the fact that his mouth was in the same place that Will’s had just been. He passed it back, their fingers brushing around the can.

They fell into an easy rhythm after that - sip, pass, sip - sinking deeper into the couch as Ghostbusters played quietly in the background. Neither of them was really watching. The movie was more noise than anything else, familiar enough that it didn’t demand attention. 

They talked about small things at first. About school. About Dustin’s latest conspiracy theories. About how Lucas would definitely make fun of them for getting stuck in the basement. Will laughed softly, knees tucked up against his chest, and Mike found himself watching the way his face lit up when he did.

The Coke slowly grew lighter in Mike’s hand.

Somewhere along the way, the conversation shifted. The jokes softened. The pauses stretched longer. Mike made a comment about a comic book and superheroes. 

“It was really cool,” Will said eventually, staring at the TV without really seeing it. “Having powers for a bit, I mean.”

Mike nodded. “Yeah.”

Silence settled between them again, heavier this time, but not uncomfortable. Mike felt it humming just beneath the surface, all the things neither of them ever quite knew how to say out loud. He took another sip of Coke and handed it back.

Mike shifted, his knee pressing more firmly against Will’s. Will didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned in a fraction closer, shoulder brushing Mike’s arm.

“I keep thinking about it,” Will said quietly.

Mike swallowed, his chest tightening. He turned his head slightly, giving Will his full attention.

“Me too,” he said.

The Coke sat forgotten between them now, resting against Will’s leg. The movie kept playing, ghosts and jokes flickering across the screen, but Mike barely noticed.

“Mike…” Will hesitated, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve. “Are you okay? The last few weeks… you’ve been so quiet. And I know your parents are in the hospital and everything has been a lot, but…” He searched Mike’s face carefully. “Are you okay?”

Mike opened his mouth, then closed it again. He couldn’t speak, like the words were stuck in his throat.

“I’m fine,” Mike forced out. 

Will looked at him. “Mike,” he said, gently. 

Mike let his eyes scan over Will’s face. He looked earnest, worried, determined. Will wasn’t going to let this go. Mike knew it because Will knew him, and if Will could tell something was wrong, he wouldn’t let it go. 

Mike swallowed. 

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he finally said, voice barely above a whisper. “About the end, when you… when Vecna died.” 

Will’s hand dropped over Mike’s and squeezed lightly. Mike’s heart clenched. 

“I was so scared, Will,” he continued, an evident tremor in his voice. “You almost died. I thought you’d…” His voice cracked, the word catching painfully before it could come out. He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t do anything but watch. Vecna had you and then you weren’t breathing and I-”

His breaths started coming uneven, shallow and shaky. He pressed his fingers into his jeans, grounding himself, but it barely helped. The familiar sense of panic he’d grown accustomed to clawed at his chest. Will’s hand clutching his helped to ground him, but he still felt anxious. 

“I thought you’d died,” Mike said, the words tumbling out now. “All over again. It was like I was transported back four years, like I was standing there again and seeing your body and I-” He sucked in a breath, then let it out, long and stuttering. “I dream about it. Every night. I wake up thinking about that night and I can’t breathe. I can’t, I can’t fucking-”

He broke off abruptly. His chest was heaving.

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room at once, like the basement had shrunk in on itself. Mike dragged in a breath that didn’t go deep enough, his lungs burning as he tried again. And again. Each inhale caught halfway, sharp and useless, his ribs aching with the effort. He couldn’t catch his breath, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. Panic, raw and painful, coursed through his veins, lighting up his entire nervous system. 

His heart was pounding so hard it felt wrong - too fast, too loud - thudding against his chest like it was trying to escape. His hands started to shake, fingers curling in on themselves as a rush of heat swept through him, followed immediately by a sickening cold. He could feel sweat prickling along the back of his neck. His lungs screamed at him for oxygen, but he couldn’t inhale, couldn’t drag the air into his chest. 

The edges of his vision blurred.

Breathe, he told himself. He knew this. He’d done this before. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Simple. Easy. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. 

Except it wasn’t.

His throat felt tight, like it was closing up, every breath scraping painfully on the way in. His thoughts spiralled, racing too fast to grab onto. Images flashing uninvited behind his eyes. Will’s still body. The awful, terrifying quiet when he stopped breathing. The way Mike had screamed his name like that might be enough to bring him back.

His stomach twisted violently, nausea rising from his stomach to his throat. He pressed his palms into his knees, grounding himself in the solid pressure, but it barely helped. The room felt unreal, distant, like he was watching everything through thick glass.

“I can’t-” he tried to say, but the words dissolved into a broken gasp.

His chest hurt. Everything hurt. His head was spinning. His heart was racing. He couldn’t fucking think, couldn’t breathe. 

Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, frustration and fear tangling together until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking, breath stuttering in short, panicked bursts.

He didn’t realise he was rocking slightly until he felt movement beside him.

And then, arms around him. Warm. Solid. Real.

Mike clung to that feeling like a lifeline, even as his heart continued to race, trusting, hoping, that it would pass.

Distantly, he could hear a voice. But the words were far away, muffled. He couldn’t focus, could only feel the desperation of his lungs, the spinning in his head. 

“Mike! Mike, come on, breathe. Please, Mike. I’m here. I’m here, I’m okay, I’m alive.”

The words hit his ears, but Mike could barely register them. Then hands were cupping his face and he looked up and it was Will. Will, who was looking at him with wide, terrified eyes. Will, who was pleading with him to breathe. 

Mike gasped in a shaky breath. HIs lungs expanded. 

“That’s it,” Will whispered. “Now out. Breathe with me, Mike.” 

Mike watched as Will breathed in and out and he forced himself to follow the rhythm. He focused on Will. On the sound of his voice, on the solid warmth of his hands on Mike’s cheeks. Will drew in a slow, deliberate breath, and Mike watched his chest rise, then fall. He tried to match it, forcing his own breath to follow the same rhythm.

In. Out.

The next breath came a little easier. Still shaky, still uneven, but deeper than the last. Will kept breathing, unhurried and patient, never once letting go.

Mike clung to that rhythm like it was a rope pulling him back, his heart gradually slowing, the tightness in his chest easing slowly, bit by bit. Each breath felt like a small victory, and with Will right there guiding him, it finally felt possible to keep going.

“There,” Will whispered gently. “That’s it. You’re doing so good, Mike.”

Mike shuddered. “Will.” He sagged forward into Will’s arms. 

Will hugged him. He gripped at Mike, clutching him close, his face buried in Mike’s hair. Mike collapsed further into him, soaking in Will’s touch, Will’s breathing. Mike felt exhausted, worn out and stretched. His mind was slowly calming, as was his heart, leaving a painful feeling of dread in its wake. 

Will pressed his forehead against Mike’s temple, holding him tight.

“You’re okay, Mike. I’ve got you, okay? You’ve always been there for me,” Will whispered, voice steady and sure in a way Mike desperately needed. “With the Mind Flayer. With Vecna. With everything. You’ve looked out for me our whole lives.” He paused, hugging Mike more firmly. “Now let me look after you for once. Okay?”

Mike nodded against Will’s shoulder, the motion small and desperate. He gripped the back of Will’s jumper, fingers curled tight, breathing slowly steadying.

For the first time in weeks, the memories loosened their grip, just a little. And wrapped up in Will’s arms, Mike let himself believe that maybe he didn’t have to carry it all alone.

*******

Mike was staring. He knew he was. But he couldn’t help it. 

He was lying stretched out on the couch, his head resting in Will’s lap, one of Will’s hands absentmindedly carding through his hair. It felt ridiculously good, soothing. And Mike never wanted it to end. His eyes fluttered as Will’s fingers caught in a strand and pulled slightly. 

Will whispered an apology, but Mike didn’t care. It felt good. It made him feel calm. Despite the nightmare from this morning, despite his breakdown an hour ago. Will’s fingers running through his hair was blissful. 

Will was watching the TV, eyes fixed on a film Mike couldn’t even remember choosing, let alone following. Colours flickered across the screen, noises rising and falling, but Mike couldn’t take any of it in. It all felt distant, unimportant.

What mattered was this.

After the panic, Will had barely given Mike a choice. He’d guided him down gently, voice soft but firm, insisting he rest when the exhaustion had finally caught up with him. Mike hadn’t argued. He didn’t think he could have, even if he’d wanted to. Everything in him had gone heavy, like he’d run a marathon without realising it.

Now he lay there, exhausted. But content. 

Will shifted slightly beneath him, careful and considerate, adjusting so Mike was more comfortable. The movement brought Mike’s attention right back to him, and he found himself staring openly now, not even trying to hide it.

Will looked… peaceful. Relaxed in a way that made Mike’s stomach knot. Will’s shoulders were loose, expression soft as he watched the screen. His hair fell above his eyes, catching the low light from the TV. He looked alive. Undeniably, beautifully alive.

The thought made Mike’s chest ache. Not painfully, just full.

It should have been easy to close his eyes. To rest. To let himself drift. But every time he tried, he was too aware of Will’s warmth beneath his head, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the quiet reassurance of his presence. Too aware of how lucky Mike felt, in a way he didn’t quite have the words for yet.

So he stayed awake a little longer, memorising the moment. Letting the calm sink in. Letting himself exist right there, with Will, where everything felt gentle and real. 

“How are you feeling?” Will asked, softly, glancing down at him. 

Their eyes locked and Mike felt breathless. Not in the panicked way he’d felt earlier, but in a way that felt precious. Will’s eyes were gorgeous. Mike had always thought so. And under Will’s gaze, under his attention, Mike felt like a flower in sunlight. 

“Better,” Mike said, offering a small smile. “Much better. Thanks to you.”

Will shrugged, smiling bashfully, his fingers still carding through Mike’s hair gently. 

“I’m sorry,” Will murmured. “I didn’t mean to bring it up, to hurt you.”

Mike shifted slightly, his head knocking further into Will’s hand. “It was good,” Mike replied. “I needed to talk about it. I’ve been hiding my nightmares for weeks. I’m glad you know.”

Will’s fingers paused, but stayed buried in Mike’s hair. “You saved me, you know? It was your voice that helped me break through Henry’s hold on me. It was you who saved me. Who gave me the strength to fight back.”

Mike swallowed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. That I couldn’t help you sooner.”

Will shook his head, a disbelieving smile on his face and his fingers resumed carding through Mike’s curls. 

“Mike,” Will said, and Mike could hear the exasperation in his tone. “You did everything. You did everything I needed you to do.” 

Mike swallowed again and closed his eyes. “You’re the most important person in the world to me, Will,” MIke whispered, honest, so fucking honest. 

He heard Will’s light gasp, felt as his fingers stuttered against his scalp. 

“You’re the most important person in the world to me, too, Mike,” Will whispered. 

And Mike smiled. 

*****

Mike scrunched up the empty chip packet and tossed it towards the bin. It bounced off the edge and landed on the floor instead.

“Close enough,” he muttered, then dropped back into the chair opposite Will at the table. He slumped forward, arms folded on the surface. “We have no food left,” he announced. “I’m starving.”

Will sighed, chin resting in his hand as he stared longingly up the stairs at the basement door, like sheer willpower might make it open. “Same. I feel like I could eat an entire pizza right now. Maybe two.”

Mike groaned. “Don’t say pizza.”

They sat there for a moment in shared misery. Mike drummed his fingers against the table, restless, then glanced around the room, at the shelves crammed with old board games, the stack of movies, the old record player. 

“Well,” he said slowly, “we could complain until we pass out.”

Will snorted. “Tempting.”

“Or,” Mike continued, perking up slightly, “we could find another way to distract ourselves until someone comes home.”

Will turned back to him, eyebrow raised. “And how do you propose we do that?”

Mike shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve already exhausted movies, games, and snacks.”

Will’s eyes flicked around the basement, thoughtful. Then a small smile tugged at his mouth. “We could play I Spy.”

Mike blinked. “I Spy?”

“Yeah,” Will said, sitting up a little straighter. “Low effort. No food required.”

Mike considered it for half a second, then nodded. “Alright. You start.”

Will smiled, clearly pleased, and glanced around the room, pretending to think hard about it. “Okay,” he said after a beat. “I spy… something blue.”

Mike leaned back in his chair, scanning the basement dramatically. “That’s like half the room.”

Will laughed. “That’s the point.”

Mike grinned despite himself, eyes landing on Will again before he forced them away. “Fine,” he said. “Is it… the toolbox?”

Will shook his head. “Nope.”

“The D&D books?”

“No.”

Mike squinted. “The tape cases?”

Will’s smile widened. “Still no.”

Mike followed Will’s gaze and stopped short when he realised it had landed on Mike’s jumper he’d left sprawled on the couch. He felt his ears heat instantly.

“Oh,” Mike said dumbly. “That’s… my jumper?”

Will laughed, bright and unguarded. “Yep.”

Mike huffed, but he was smiling now. “Okay. My turn.”

He glanced around the basement, then back at Will, feeling that familiar warmth settle in his chest. “I spy,” he said slowly, “something that makes this place a lot less miserable.”

Will frowned, then looked around, before realising Mike was watching him.

“Oh,” Will said softly.

Mike shrugged, suddenly very interested in the tabletop. “What? It counts.” You count. 

Will smiled, gentler this time. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess it does.”

Mike looked back up, meeting Will’s smile with one of his own. Something warm settled in his chest, familiar and easy. Without really thinking about it, Mike stretched his legs out under the table and nudged forward, his foot bumping into Will’s.

Will startled, then laughed, the sound light and surprised. “Hey,” he protested, trying to pull his foot away.

Mike grinned and followed, tapping his ankle again, just enough to be annoying. Will kicked back this time, more deliberate, their socked feet knocking together beneath the table. It turned into a quiet back-and-forth with small nudges, near misses. Both of them trying not to laugh too loudly.

“Stop,” Will whispered, still smiling, even as he tried to wriggle free.

“No,” Mike whispered back, entirely unhelpful.

Eventually, the movement slowed. Their feet tangled by accident, Mike’s ankle resting against Will’s, hooked together without either of them pulling away. The contact lingered, unspoken and comfortable, like they’d both silently agreed to let it stay that way.

Will glanced up at Mike, something soft flickering across his face. Mike felt his ears heat, but didn’t move. Under the table, their feet stayed linked, warm and steady, a quiet little connection that felt important, on the verge of something they were both too scared to admit. 

Mike grinned, shrugging. “Your turn.”

Will rolled his eyes. “I Spy…”

And Mike let himself bask in the warmth of it. Because Will was here. Alive. And happy. 

*****

Mike looked over at Will.

He was sitting on the stairs now, one step up from the basement floor, elbows resting on his knees as he watched Will crouched in front of the shelves. Will was rifling through the VHS tapes, pulling one out, frowning at it, then sliding it back into place. He hummed softly to himself, an absent little sound, completely unaware he was being watched.

Mike’s chest felt tight in that familiar, confusing way.

The light caught in Will’s hair as he leaned closer to read a spine, and Mike found himself thinking, unhelpfully, that he’d memorised the shape of Will’s back, the slope of his shoulders, the way he always tilted his head when he was deciding something. It felt unfair, how easy it was to notice him. How natural.

“You’re gonna wear out the tapes if you keep doing that,” Mike said, mostly just to break the silence. To hide from his own thoughts. 

Will glanced back over his shoulder, smiling. “I’m being thorough.”

“Uh-huh.”

Will laughed quietly and finally picked one, holding it up. “This one?”

Mike shrugged. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

Will hesitated, then set the tape down instead of putting it in. He turned properly this time, sitting back on his heels. “You don’t sound very convinced.”

Mike opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wasn’t sure what to say, not without saying too much. Instead, he shifted on the step. 

“I’m just tired,” Mike said finally. It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

Will’s expression softened immediately. He stood and crossed the small space between them, stopping a step away. “Do you want to lie down again?” he asked gently. “We don’t have to watch anything.”

Mike looked up at him.

Will was right there. Close enough that Mike could see the faint freckles across his nose, close enough to notice the way his breath hitched slightly when Mike didn’t answer right away. Something electric hummed in the quiet between them, the air thick and expectant.

“I’m okay,” Mike said, even though his voice came out softer than he meant it to. “Just… stay?”

Will smiled. “Yeah. Okay.”

He sat down beside Mike on the step, their shoulders brushing. Neither of them moved away. Mike’s knee bumped against Will’s, and this time, it stayed there. The basement felt impossibly still. 

Mike swallowed.

He didn’t know when looking at Will had started to feel like this - like standing on the edge of something terrifying and wonderful - but he knew he didn’t want to look away.

The familiar thought - of pressing his lips to Will’s - crossed his mind. But for once, he didn’t force it away instantly. Instead, he let his gaze drop from Will’s eyes to his lips, just briefly. But when he looked back up, Will’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes wide. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

“Mike?” Will whispered, leaning closer. 

Mike shivered. “I want… Will. Will, I…” He swallowed, staring into Will’s eyes. 

Mike’s breath caught. He didn’t move, not away, not closer, just stayed there, heart racing, every nerve buzzing. Will was so close now that Mike could feel the warmth of him, the quiet, shaky inhale they seemed to share.

Will hesitated, eyes flicking down and then back up again. And Mike swallowed because holy shit. Holy shit, Will wanted this too? And Will… Will was looking at him with that look, the one Mike couldn’t place, and suddenly Mike felt so stupid because in that moment, it was obvious. 

Want. Longing. Affection. Something else that Mike couldn't name. But the longing. Holy shit. 

Mike breathed out, long and slow. Then leaned in closer, so close their noses touched. 

“Will,” he whispered again. “Can I..? Do you want to?”

He heard Will’s swallow. Felt Will’s breath on his lips. 

Will leaned in slowly, carefully, like he was afraid of startling him. Their lips brushed, just a soft, uncertain touch that lasted no more than a second. It was gentle and awkward and perfect.

Oh. Oh. 

This, this with Will, it made sense. Will was everything to him. The thoughts he tried to ignore, the longing, the want - how had Mike denied it for so long? How had he pretended that this wasn’t everything he wanted? Everything he needed? 

This was Will. Mike’s whole world had always revolved around Will. How had Mike not realised that this is what they were always meant to be? 

Mike didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath until he exhaled, letting himself lean in too, returning the kiss just as lightly. It felt warm. Safe. Like something that had been waiting for them both to notice it.

When they pulled apart, they stayed close, foreheads nearly touching.

Will let out a quiet, breathless laugh. “Okay,” he murmured.

Mike smiled, his face still warm, his chest still full. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Okay.”

They didn’t kiss again right away. They just sat there on the step, shoulders pressed together, letting the moment settle, like neither of them wanted to rush something that felt this fragile and this real.

“Will,” MIke whispered. “This is… this…” 

Will’s hand grabbed one of his and squeezed. “Mike.” 

And Mike could hear it, the joy, the happiness, the absolute disbelief in Will’s voice. The echo of you want this too?

“I think we should date,” Mike said, stupidly, hardly able to think. “I think. Yeah. Me and you.”

Will giggled and Mike felt it on his face, felt his heart clench with the sound of it. 

“Yeah,” Will whispered. “Yeah, me and you. Definitely.”

And Mike had to kiss him again. He had to. He ached with the longing for it. With the need to be closer to Will. As close as possible. He pressed his lips to Will’s, his hand moving to cling on to him and Will gasped and grabbed him back and they were kissing properly. Still gentle, still tender, but deeper. 

Mike whimpered against Will’s mouth. Holy shit, he hadn’t known kissing could feel like this. His entire body felt like it was on fire, heat burning through his veins. He tilted his head, catching Will's mouth in a different angle and the small moan that escaped Will’s lips sent a full body shiver down Mike’s spine. 

“Mike,” Will gasped, clutching him tighter. 

And Mike kissed him again. And again. And again. Because he could. Because Will wanted him too. Because this, being so close to Will, to feeling him so alive under Mike’s lips and hands, quieted the fear, the memories, the terror. Will was so alive.

And Mike didn’t think he’d be able to stop kissing Will. This was everything. Everything he wanted, everything he needed. 

Mike felt like he was finally home. 

********

“So… about your first crush,” Mike hedged as they lay together on the couch.

Will was stretched out on his back, relaxed, with Mike curled into his side. One of Will’s hands was tangled gently in Mike’s hair, fingers moving in slow, absent strokes that made it hard to think straight.

Will’s hand stilled.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he sighed, soft and fond. “Well,” he said, “my crush was you. Obviously.”

Mike lifted his head, heart skipping painfully, and rested his chin on Will’s chest so he could look up at him. “You’ve liked me our whole lives?”

Will smiled, a little exasperated, still staring up at the ceiling like this was the most obvious thing in the world. Mike thought, again, that he was beautiful. He would never stop thinking it. 

“Yeah, Mike,” Will said. “You were my first crush. And instead of getting over you…” He glanced down at Mike then, eyes warm and sure. “I kind of fell head over heels in love.”

Mike froze.

Then a huge grin broke across his face, bright and disbelieving and a little breathless. “You love me?” he asked, needing to hear it again just to be sure.

Will shifted so he could look at him properly. “Mike,” he said softly. “Yes. Of course I love you. I love you.”

Mike couldn’t shake the disbelief. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea that someone as wonderful and kind and perfect as Will Byers could love him back. Mike didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve to be loved by Will, of all people. But the truth of it settled slowly in his chest, warm and steady, and he let out a quiet, wonder-filled laugh.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Will’s waiting lips, soft and sure this time.

“I love you too,” Mike said, the words fitting perfectly. “More than anything.”

Will grinned and tugged Mike back down, closing the small distance between them to kiss him again, quick and warm and familiar already.

Then Mike heard it.

He stiffened instantly, pulling back. His heart lurched as he tilted his head, listening hard.

“What-” Will started, confused, but Mike lifted a hand to his shoulder, shushing him.

They both froze.

There it was again. Footsteps. Muffled voices. The faint sound of a door opening upstairs.

Will’s eyes widened as realisation hit. “Someone’s home,” he whispered.

Mike grinned. “Shit. Finally.”

They scrambled off the couch at the same time, tripping over each other in their rush. Mike grabbed Will’s wrist without thinking and hauled him towards the stairs, both of them laughing breathlessly.

They reached the basement door and immediately started pounding on it.

“Hello!” Mike shouted. “Help!”

A pause. Then…

“Mike?” Nancy’s voice drifted down, surprised. “Is that you?”

“Yes!” Mike yelled back, relief flooding through him. “We’re stuck. We can’t get the door open.”

“Oh my gosh,” Nancy said. “Seriously? Have you tried the handle?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Yes, Nancy, we tried to open the fucking door.”

MIke watched as the handle jiggled, as Nancy tried to open it.

“Shit,” she said, “It really is stuck. Hang on.”

A moment later, Jonathan’s voice joined hers. “We’ll get you out. Just stay away from the door, okay?”

“Okay!” Mike called, already backing away.

They retreated down the stairs, their adrenaline slowly ebbing now that help was actually coming. When they reached the bottom, they stopped, standing there in the dim basement light, both breathing a little too fast.

Mike realised his hand was still wrapped around Will’s.

He didn’t let go.

Will glanced down at their joined hands, then up at Mike, smiling. Soft, fond, unmistakably real. He squeezed Mike’s fingers gently, like a quiet promise.

For a moment, they just stood there, listening to the sounds of footsteps and muffled voices above them. The world felt suspended, caught between before and after.

Mike smiled back, thumb brushing lightly over Will’s knuckles.

No rush. No fear. Just them, waiting, together.

Mike couldn’t quite believe how much more at peace he felt.

Not long ago - hours, though it felt like another lifetime - he’d woken up trapped in the claws of terror, heart racing, lungs burning, the past crashing into him like it always did. He’d been drowning in memories he couldn’t outrun, fear stitched so deeply into him that it felt permanent.

And now he was standing in the basement, fingers laced with Will Byers’, the warmth of his hand steady and real.

It felt impossible, in the best way.

Mike knew things weren’t magically fixed. He wasn’t naive enough to believe that. The nightmares had been with him for years - ever since the cliff, ever since the monsters, ever since the world had shown him just how fragile everything could be. He dreamed of falling, of being too late, of watching the people he loved slip through his fingers again and again and again. Those fears didn’t disappear just because things were quiet for one afternoon.

They wouldn’t just go away.

But something had changed.

He’d said it out loud. He’d let the words exist in the world instead of burying them in his chest. He’d told Will how scared he was, how broken he felt, how much it still hurt. And Will hadn’t pulled away. He hadn’t looked at Mike like he was too much. He’d held him. He’d listened. He’d stayed.

That mattered more than Mike knew how to put into words.

Standing there now, Mike squeezed Will’s hand just a little tighter, grounding himself in the touch. The warmth of his skin, the way Will’s thumb brushed over his knuckles, the steady rhythm of his breathing beside him. It reminded Mike that he was here. That he was alive. That Will was alive.

For the first time in weeks - months, maybe even years - Mike felt like maybe he could be okay.

Maybe he could breathe again without his chest tightening in panic. Maybe sleep didn’t have to feel like a battlefield. Maybe healing wasn’t about forgetting what had happened, but learning how to carry it without letting it crush him.

And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to do it alone.

Mike glanced over at Will, who was watching him with that familiar softness, like he understood even without words. Will smiled at him, small and sure, and Mike felt something settle deep in his chest. A quiet, steady hope.

Whatever came next, whatever nightmares still waited for him in the dark, Mike knew one thing with absolute certainty.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

The fear hadn’t vanished completely, he knew it probably never would. There would still be restless nights and memories that crept in when he least expected them. But now there was Will, steady and warm and real, someone who held his hand without hesitation and stayed even when things were messy and hard. Someone who knew the worst parts of him and loved him anyway.

Mike let that truth settle in his chest, calm and sure. Healing didn’t mean forgetting what had happened. It meant learning how to live alongside it. And with Will by his side, with their fingers intertwined and the future stretching quietly ahead of them, Mike knew, completely and wholly, that whatever darkness came next, he would never face it alone again.