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The Squawk was eerily quiet at midday during the battle preparations. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting unsteady shadows that made everything feel temporary, fragile. Will stood alone in front of the window, staring at the wormhole diagram Dustin had created, covered in calculations and probabilities that all pointed to the same conclusion: they were probably going to die.
Everything felt overwhelming and nothing at the same time, like standing in the eye of a hurricane. Will’s hands started to shake the longer he stared at the red lines marking entry points, exit strategies that weren’t really exits at all. His fingers found his nail beds, an old habit from childhood that had gotten worse after the Upside Down. Worse after the Mind Flayer. Worse after California, after Vecna, after everything.
The skin around his thumbnails was already raw from this morning. He picked at the edges anyway, feeling the sting, using the pain to ground himself when his thoughts started to scatter.
Vecna knows everything.
Will was spiraling. He could feel it happening, like watching himself from outside his body. The anxiety crept up his spine, made his chest tight, turned his breathing shallow.
Vecna knows and will use everything against me. Against my family. My friends. My—
He dug his nail deeper into the cuticle. A bead of blood welled up.
Mike.
Will cut his thoughts off violently, shaking his head like he could physically dislodge them. He couldn’t spiral right now. People were risking their lives. He should be getting ready, making weapons, doing anything useful instead of standing here falling apart. Instead of being the weak link they all had to protect. The bait. The liability.
Maybe it’s better if I don’t make it out. One less person for them to worry about. One less—
“Stop,” he whispered to himself. His fingers moved from one nail bed to another, picking, peeling, creating new hurts to focus on. “Stop, stop, stop.”
He forced himself to take a breath, to count like his mom had taught him when he was little.
One.
His hands were shaking worse now. There was blood under three of his fingernails.
Two.
The room felt like it was closing in. Like the walls were made of vines and rot.
Three.
“Will?”
The voice cut through his thoughts, that sweet, caring voice he’d heard a thousand times, the one that had called him back from the Upside Down, from the Mind Flayer’s grip, from every dark place he’d ever been.
Will turned. Mike stood in the doorway, and the concern on his face made Will feel sick with guilt. “Are you okay? You look—” Mike crossed the room quickly. “Will, you’re bleeding.”
Will looked down at his hands like they belonged to someone else. Blood smeared across his thumbs where he’d picked the skin raw. “Oh. I didn’t—I wasn’t—”
“Hey, hey.” Mike’s hands hovered near Will’s, not quite touching. “It’s okay. Let me—do you want me to get the first aid kit?”
“No.” Will’s voice came out too sharp. He pulled his hands behind his back, ashamed. “No, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
Mike’s expression said he didn’t believe that for a second. “Will. You’re not fine. Please—”
“Can we talk?” Will heard himself say, and his voice came out steadier than he felt. “Alone? Please?”
Something in his tone, maybe the desperation, maybe the barely controlled panic made Mike straighten immediately. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” He glanced toward the main room where they could hear Dustin and Lucas arguing about supply distribution, their voices distant and muffled. “Come on.”
Will walked to the far corner, away from the doorway, and Mike followed. The distance felt both infinite and nonexistent. Will had practiced this in his head a hundred times since they’d finalized the plan, but now that the moment was here, every word had abandoned him. His hands ached. His chest felt too tight. His thoughts were still spiraling.
Tell him. You have to tell him. Before it’s too late. Before Vecna uses it against everyone.
“Tonight,” Will started, then stopped. His throat felt like it was closing. He tried again. “Tonight we go through with the plan. And Dustin’s given us a thirty-seven percent chance of success, which means—”
“Don’t.” Mike’s voice was sharp, almost frightened. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Mike, I have to.” Will’s hands clenched at his sides, and he felt the sting of his raw nail beds. The pain helped him focus. “I lied to you.”
Mike’s eyebrows furrowed, confusion and concern warring on his face. “What do you mean? What did you lie about?”
Will started fidgeting with his nail beds again, picking at the already damaged skin. He couldn’t look at Mike. “When I was trapped in Vecna’s mind. When El had to rescue me.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Vecna showed me things. Awful, terrifying things. Things I didn’t tell you or anyone because—” His voice cracked. “Because they were true.”
Mike stepped forward immediately, reaching out to touch Will’s shoulder. “Vecna lies. Whatever he showed you isn’t—”
Will jerked away from the comfort, his breath coming faster. He looked at his hands and noticed the fresh blood, bright red against his skin, and kept going anyway. The pain was the only thing keeping him tethered right now. “But it was true! It is true!” His voice rose, breaking. “Because Vecna has been in my head before. He knows things about me, about all of us. And if we go in there with secrets, with things we’re hiding, he’ll use them. He’ll twist them into weapons and people will die because of me.”
“Will—”
“I’m the weak link, Mike. I’m the one he can get to. I’m the one who—” Will’s breath hitched. “Maybe everyone would be safer if I just—if I didn’t—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Mike’s voice was fierce, almost angry. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“We’ve been over the plan a thousand times,” Will continued, the words tumbling out now like a dam breaking. “We know what he might do. But you don’t know what he showed me. You don’t know—”
“Then tell me,” Mike demanded. “Whatever it is, just tell me.”
“I’m in love with you.”
The words detonated between them like a grenade. Mike’s mouth opened, closed. The fluorescent light above them stuttered. Will felt like he might throw up.
He forced himself to keep going, each word feeling like pulling shrapnel from a wound. “I’ve been in love with you for years. Since before the Upside Down, before everything went to hell. And Vecna—” His voice broke. “Vecna showed me you. He showed me you finding out and being disgusted. He showed me telling you and watching our friendship die. He showed me you looking at me the way—the way people in Hawkins look at me. Like I’m wrong. Like I’m broken.”
Will wrapped his arms around himself, nails digging into his biceps through his shirt. “And I need you to know now, before we go in there, because if Vecna gets into my head tonight, when he gets into my head, he’s going to use this. He’s going to use you.” Tears were streaming down his face now. “And I can’t—I won’t let him turn the best thing in my life into a weapon without you at least knowing the truth first.”
Mike looked like he’d been struck. “Will—”
“I’m gay, Mike.” The words tasted like freedom and funeral rites all at once. “And I know that’s—I know it’s not what you expected. Not what anyone expected. But I’m probably not going to survive tomorrow anyway, and I’m so tired.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m so tired of dying a little bit every day, pretending I’m something I’m not. Of hurting myself trying to feel anything at all. Of wishing I’d just stayed in the Upside Down in the first place so I wouldn’t have to—”
“Stop.” Mike’s voice cracked. His eyes were shiny, threatening to spill over. “Stop saying that. Stop saying you’re not going to survive.”
“You know the plan, Mike!” Will’s laugh was bitter, exhausted, edged with hysteria. “I’m the one who has to get close to him, let him think he’s got me again. My connection to him, it’s our advantage and my death sentence. Everyone knows it. That’s why no one will look at me. That’s why my mom kept crying this morning.”
“We’ll protect you,” Mike insisted, but his voice wavered. “El will—”
“El can’t be everywhere at once. None of you can.” Will’s hands were shaking violently now, blood smearing from where he’d picked his skin raw. “And maybe that’s okay. Maybe..maybe it’s better this way. I’ve been borrowed time since November 1983 anyway. Maybe I was supposed to die in the Upside Down. Maybe I was supposed to die when the Mind Flayer had me. Maybe all I’ve been doing is delaying the inevitable and putting everyone else in danger while I do it.”
The anger drained from Mike’s face, replaced by something that looked like devastation. “You really believe that? That you’re just borrowed time? That we’d be better off if you—” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” Will admitted, his voice small and broken. “Except this.” He gestured helplessly between them. “Except that you’ve been the reason I kept fighting to come back every time. In the Upside Down, when the Mind Flayer had me, when everything felt hopeless and I wanted to give up, it was you. You calling to me. You refusing to let go. It’s always been you, Mike.”
He looked down at his damaged hands, at the blood under his nails. “And that’s the worst part. Because Vecna knows. He knows that you’re the thing he can use to break me completely. He knows that if he hurts you, if he makes you hate me, if he—” Will’s breath hitched. “I won’t be able to fight him. I won’t want to.”
“Will—” Mike’s voice broke completely.
“I’m not telling you this because I expect anything back,” Will continued quickly, desperately. “I know you’re with El. I know you love her. And that’s.. that’s fine. That’s how it should be. I just needed you to know before tomorrow. Before Vecna shows you images of me breaking, of him using my feelings against us, I needed the truth to come from me first.” He finally looked up, meeting Mike’s eyes. “And I needed you to know that if I don’t make it out, if I can’t fight him off, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. You’ve been the best friend I could have asked for. You’ve saved me more times than you know. I just—” His voice cracked. “I need you to let me go if it comes to that. Don’t let me be the reason everyone else dies.”
Mike moved then, closing the distance between them in two strides. His hands grabbed Will’s shoulders, gripping tight enough to hurt, tight enough to ground him, tears finally spilling over. “You listen to me. You are not borrowed time. You are not bait. You are not acceptable losses or collateral damage or whatever else you’ve convinced yourself of.”
“Mike—”
“No. My turn.” Mike’s eyes were bright with hurt, his voice fierce and desperate. “You’re Will Byers. You’re the guy who survived the Upside Down for a week with nothing. You’re the guy who fought off the Mind Flayer’s control long enough to give us Morse code. You’re the guy who’s survived things that would have destroyed anyone else. You’re the guy who—” His voice caught. “I can’t lose you, Will. Please don’t leave me.”
Mike closed the distance completely, wrapping his arms around Will and burying his face in the crook of Will’s neck, his tears dampening Will’s shirt. Will stood frozen, afraid to move, afraid this wasn’t real.
“I need you, please don’t give up, please fight, I need—I love—” Mike’s voice cracked, and he squeezed tighter, like he could physically hold Will together through sheer force of will. Will’s breath hitched, his damaged hands hovering uselessly at his sides before finally, carefully, coming to rest on Mike’s back. “What are you saying?”
Mike pulled back just enough to look at Will, his hands coming up to frame Will’s face. His cheeks were wet, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate. “I’m saying—God, Will, I’m saying I didn’t understand. For so long I didn’t understand why—” He took a shaky breath. “Why everything felt wrong when you moved away. Why I couldn’t write to you but I thought about you every single day. Why seeing you with that girl in California made me feel like I was dying inside.”
“Mike—”
“No, let me—I have to say this.” Mike’s thumbs brushed away Will’s tears, gentle despite the tremor in his hands. “When you told me, just now, when you said you loved me, it was like—like everything suddenly made sense. All these feelings I’ve been having, all these thoughts I kept pushing down and praying would go away.” His voice broke. “I’ve been so scared, Will. Terrified. Because the way I feel about you, it’s not—it’s not how you’re supposed to feel about your best friend.”
Will’s heart was pounding so hard he thought it might break through his ribs. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—” Mike laughed, but it came out wet and desperate. “I mean best friends don’t spend hours staring at the phone hoping you’ll call. Best friends don’t memorize every detail of your face. Best friends don’t—” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Best friends don’t lie awake at night thinking about what it would be like to—to hold your hand, or—or kiss you, and then hate themselves for thinking it.”
“You think about that?” Will’s voice was barely a whisper.
“All the time.” Mike opened his eyes, and Will saw everything there, years of confusion and fear and longing. “And I tried so hard to make it stop. I thought maybe if I just focused on El, if I just said the right things, felt the right things, it would go away. I prayed, Will. I actually prayed that these feelings were just—I don’t know—some phase or confusion or something I could fix.” Will’s chest ached. He knew that prayer. He’d said it himself a thousand times. “But then El looked at me two weeks ago,” Mike continued, his voice raw, “and she said, ‘You keep looking at him like you’re drowning and he’s air.’ And I tried to deny it, but she just smiled—this sad, understanding smile—and said, ‘It’s okay, Mike. You don’t have to be scared. Not with me.’ And I realized she’d known before I did. That everyone probably knew before I did.”
“You—” Will could barely breathe. “You have feelings for me?”
“I’m in love with you,” Mike said, and saying it out loud seemed to break something open in him. “I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified because I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what people will say or do or—” His voice cracked. “My parents, the town, everything we’ve been taught about how things are supposed to be. But I can’t hide it anymore. I can’t keep pretending that what I feel for you is normal friend stuff when it’s so much more than that.”
“Mike,” Will breathed, and suddenly they were both crying, holding onto each other like lifelines.
“I love you,” Mike said again, like he’d been holding the words in for so long they had to come out all at once. “I love you, and I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I’m sorry I made you think you were alone in this. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to—”
Will cut him off by surging forward and pressing their lips together. It was clumsy and desperate, tasting of salt from their tears, but it was real. It was them. Mike made a sound, something between a gasp and a sob and kissed back like Will was oxygen and he’d been drowning.
When they finally pulled apart, both breathing hard, Mike pressed their foreheads together. “Was that—was that okay?”
Will laughed, the sound watery but genuine. “Yeah. Yeah, that was—” He couldn’t find words, so he kissed Mike again, softer this time, more certain. They stayed like that for a long moment, trading soft kisses and softer words, until Mike pulled back and looked down at Will’s hands, still held between them. Blood had seeped through where Will had picked his skin raw.
“Let me take care of these,” Mike said softly. “Please.”
Will nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat as Mike gently guided him to sit on one of the tables. Mike found the first aid kit they’d stashed in the corner and brought it over, his movements careful and deliberate.
“This might sting,” Mike warned as he opened an alcohol wipe.
“It’s okay,” Will said. “I’m used to it.”
Mike’s hands stilled. He looked up, meeting Will’s eyes. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.” His voice was quiet but fierce. “You shouldn’t have to hurt yourself to feel something, or to stop feeling, or whatever—” He took a shaky breath. “I’m here now, okay? When it gets bad, when you start spiraling, I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
Will’s eyes burned with fresh tears. “You can’t always be there. Tonight—”
“Tonight we both survive,” Mike said firmly, carefully cleaning the blood from Will’s fingernails. “And then tomorrow, and the day after that. We survive together.” He wrapped gauze around Will’s worst finger, his touch impossibly gentle. “And yeah, maybe I can’t be there every second. But you can call me. You can talk to me. You can—” His voice cracked. “You can hold my hand instead of hurting yours.”
As Mike finished bandaging the last finger, he lifted Will’s hand to his lips and pressed a feather light kiss to the gauze. “There. All better.”
“Mike,” Will whispered, overwhelmed.
“I mean it, Will.” Mike laced their fingers together carefully, mindful of the bandages. “You’re not fighting this alone anymore. Not Vecna, not the Upside Down, not the stuff in your head. None of it. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Will looked at their joined hands, his damaged and bandaged, Mike’s warm and steady. He felt something shift inside him. Hope, maybe. Or just the belief that maybe, possibly, he could survive this. That maybe he was worth surviving for.
“I love you,” Will said, testing the words out loud for the second time.
Mike smiled, real and bright despite the tear tracks on his face. “I love you too.” He said it like it was easy, like he’d been waiting his whole life to say it. “We’re going to figure this out, okay? All of it. After tomorrow. Together.”
“Together,” Will echoed, and let himself believe it.
From the main room, they heard Dustin calling their names, something about final equipment checks. The world was still ending. Tonight they’d face a monster that had haunted their nightmares for years. The odds were still terrible.
But Will sat on the table in the flickering light of the Squawk with Mike standing between his legs, their foreheads pressed together and their bandaged hands intertwined, and for the first time since they’d started planning this suicide mission, he thought maybe, just maybe, he had something worth surviving for. Something worth fighting for.
“We should go back,” Will whispered, though he made no move to pull away.
“Not yet.” Mike’s free hand came up to cup Will’s cheek. “Just—please.”
So they stayed there a moment longer, two boys on the edge of battle, holding onto each other like they could anchor each other to life through sheer force of will. And maybe they could.