Work Text:
Will wakes up to the feeling of dripping on his face. Is it water? It feels like rain, but he’s not outside, at least he doesn’t think so. Honestly he couldn’t even remember where he was. He’s lying flat onto his back. The floor feels cold and wet beneath him.
He opens his eyes, blinking once , then twice . His eyes feel dry and he has a pounding headache. He imagines this is what a hangover feels like. Once the dryness in his eyes begins to ease and he can finally take a look at his surroundings, he realises he doesn’t recognise this place at all.
He surges up with panic. Where the hell is he?
The room is small. It feels like it’s closing in on him. It’s covered in the same strange white substance that was outside but only now it’s oozing out from the ceiling and flowing like a waterfall , swallowing the room whole. It covers his clothing and as he begins to stand it submerges his shoes. What the hell is this weird science experiment of a room ? The pace that the unidentifiable white substance is flowing at begins to increase , taking the room captive and covering the walls with its gooey strange slime. All of a sudden, a thought comes into Wills mind. He’s not alone in here. He can’t be, because if he remembers correctly…
He looks around the room, searching frantically until his eyes settle on a blurred figure lying on the ground just at the edge of his peripheral vision.
“Mike!”
He rushes over to the dark-haired boy , the boy he loves , the boy who is now lying on the ground, unresponsive. He positions himself on top of the other boy and begins to frantically shake him by his shoulders.
“Hey Mike” Will says urgently.
“Mike, Mike we have to go” he repeats, shaking him harder. No, this can’t be happening, this has to be fake. This can’t be fucking real. No way.
Will begins to yell Mike’s name louder, just like he did so many years ago when the mind-flayer had taken him captive on that dark Halloween night and all he could do was look for his best friend.
“Mike!” He yells out, again. But this time, it’s met with a response. Mike surges upwards, gasping for air as he frantically looks around the room.
“Will?” Mike gasps.
“Will what’s going on?”
“It’s okay, it’s okay Mike, I’ve got you” Will says, grabbing onto Mikes shoulders and pulling him closer, just like Mike did to Will that same Halloween, when Will felt like all hope was lost.
Mike pulls himself up and situates himself onto his knees. “What happened” he breathes out. “What the hell happened”
“I don’t know. I don’t know “ Will replies . He looks up towards the ceiling to see a gate. Oh, shit. They must’ve fell.
“We must’ve fell” he says.
He looks back at Mike, who meets his gaze with those wide, doe-like eyes he’s always had. How could the boy in front of him still look so breathtaking, even with slime matted in his hair and staining his brand-new sweater? Mike really was a species of his own.
Suddenly the expression on Mike’s face switched to a panicked one.
“Okay we’ve gotta get moving, we gotta find a way out of here” Mike says , out of breath. He pulls himself upwards and as he begins to stand up, he wobbles and puts his arms out to regain his balance. Then, he grabs Will by his arms and pulls him upwards, and slams him into his chest.
Will’s breath catches in his throat. If whatever is happening in this room doesn’t kill Will, Mike Wheeler definitely would.
“Where’s the door?” Mike says, panic in his voice. They both desperately scan the room coated in seeping goo until Will’s eyes land on the door, barely visible beneath the white substance.
“There!” He yells out, pointing towards the exit.
Mike begins to urgently push towards the door with all his might, Will following close behind. They struggle to keep moving as the slime swallows their shoes and drags them down like quick-sand. Pushing through, they slam hard against the door.
Will jiggles the doorknob, desperate for a way out. Then , he hears a sharp snap. Oh no. He looks down to see the doorknob in his hands, goo slowly sliding off it. This is bad.
Fuck.
“Shit!” he yells. At the same time, Mike slams his full weight against the door. Will decides to start prying the door open from the cracks. When he realizes that’s not working, he follows Mike and starts slamming himself against the door too, each strike more desperate than the last.
“Fuck!” Mike yells, clutching his left arm and wincing in pain.
Will slams himself against the door-once, twice, three fucking times. Each hit feels the same, barely leaving a mark. Confidence fades, replaced by desperation, and with every slam, he winces in pain.
“Come on!” he yells. “Damn it!” He can’t help but scream in agony. His arms hurt, his legs hurt-everything hurts. Seconds that feel like hours pass before he realizes Mike is no longer beside him.
He looks back to see Mike trekking towards a wooden chair that’s been half submerged by the goo. Every step is taken with force.
“What are you doing?!?” Will manages to yell out, still slamming himself against the door.
“A few floors down it looked like one of those soldiers cut through that door!” Mike replies, striding towards the half-sunken chair. He bends his knees and grabs onto a leg of the chair, yanking it off with all his might. He whips around and begins marching towards the door, towards Will. Determination is written all over his face, and as stupid as it sounds, he looks so awesome as his hands tighten around the chairs wooden leg. He’s holding it like it’s a sword. Like he’s the heart.
“Watch out!” He yells. Will complies.
Mike surges towards the door and like it’s a dagger he pierces the door right through its heart. He looks so bad-ass. But the door doesn’t open, and more of the slime begins to ooze out, even faster than before. “Shit!” Mike yells out. At the same time, the ceiling begins to cave in , and just like a water balloon it pops, spraying out even more of the slimy substance like a ruptured artery.
“Oh God” Will says.
“Oh God!”
He’s full-blown panicking now and so is Mike. His breath catches in his throat. He can’t breathe. Desperately scanning the room, he sees Mike already moving. “Get to the table!” Mike yells, pointing at the wooden table in the center, which, like the chair, is slowly sinking downward.
They force themselves towards the plank of wood, each step requiring more strength than the other. Mike pushes himself forward and begins to crawl slowly onto the bench before turning around and grabbing Wills hand. Will follows suit and pushes himself upwards, allowing Mikes hand to guide him onto the centre of the old-wood.
“Now what?” Will breaths out desperately, searching for the answer he always seems to find in Mikes eyes.
But this time, Mike doesn’t have the answer. He positions himself onto his knees and looks up towards the ceiling. The substance continues to ooze out of every surface in the room , and things are looking bleak.
Mike yells upwards towards the gate, in hopes that somebody will hear.
“Help!” “Somebody help us!” Mike yells out with desperation. Will doesn’t know who he’s yelling to. They had come to the upside down with Eleven and Robin, but they separated into groups and he doubts that they’re anywhere near them, and if so it’s still unlikely that’d they’d be able to do anything to help. But still, he follows Mike. He always does.
“Help!” Will yelps out, copying Mike.
They both yell. For somebody. Anybody.
“El!” Mike yells. “Eleven, help!”
Mikes standing on the table now. He’s jumping upwards and yelling towards the open gate with his hands cupped around his mouth. Will stands up too.
“Robin!” Will cries out. “Robin help us!”
But it’s no use. Robin can’t save him. Not now. And El’s not coming either. It’s just Mike and Will. It always is, isn’t it?
Mike jumps upwards again, and the table begins to shake.
“Woah, woah” Mike says , grabbing onto Will and directing him downward. “Sit down, sit down” he says. Will complies, again.
They both kneel down onto the creaky piece of wood, that’s now covered in the slime that’s dribbled down from both their clothing and the ceiling.
“What are we doing?” Will asks. He’s tired. He’s desperate. He’s confused.
“Sitting spreads our weight out.” Mike replies breathily. Mikes smart, he always has been, and he works well under pressure. He’s a leader. Will can’t help but depend on him.
“I learnt that from Mr Clarke, physics” Mike replies with a wide toothy grin. And for a moment, that smile is enough to make Will forget about the predicament that they’re in. But only for a moment, because now he suddenly can’t breathe again and this time he knows it’s not because of Mike.
“We can buy ourselves some time” Mike says. “They must’ve heard us by now” he adds on, trying to convince Will, but Will really knows that he’s really only trying to convince himself.
“Then why haven’t they called back” Will says. “And even if they have , what can they do anyway?” He can’t stop his voice from shaking as he says it. Because it’s the truth. There’s nothing they can do to save us. They’re on their own. Not even El’s powers could reach them here.
“They’re not coming” Will finalises.
“Don’t say that.” Mike says suddenly sounding angry, but his face reads like he knows Will’s right.
“You wanted honesty” Will replies bitterly. He can’t help but be sour. This whole situation sucks , obviously, but also, he can’t help but feel a certain way towards Mike. Ever since California, and what happened in the van, Will can’t stop himself from thinking that Mike’s gotta know already. I mean he has to, he’s seriously not that stupid , he definitely had to have picked up what Will was putting down. So why hasn’t he said anything? Robin spoke about there being signals, and Will swears that he could see them. But sometimes Will thinks he’s delusional. Mike makes him feel crazy, and not so long ago they would’ve been going crazy together. But it doesn’t feel like that anymore, now it just feels like it’s only Will who’s one strike away from ending up in the mental hospital and Mikes acting completely oblivious to all of it. By choice? Will really doesn’t know.
The liquid begins to bubble around them. The wooden chair that Mike had stolen the leg from is now basically fully submerged, and the constant flowing of the slime hasn’t stopped. Will and Mike are both looking around the room. At the shitty situation they’re in , a situation only they could end up in. It hits Will like a truck. Maybe this is it. Maybe after all these years of running and jumping from tree to tree in order to escape demogorgans and the mind-flayer he’s finally met his end. This is how he’ll die? Really? In the middle of a room oozing of an unidentifiable liquid on a half-submerged table with the boy he loves. Honestly, it’s not the worst way to go out. It’s been a long time coming if he’s being really honest with himself. Which is a first, because Will’s hardly ever honest.
He looks towards Mike. The only boy he’s ever loved. If he’s going to die, that’s the only thing worthy of putting his focus towards. Mike. His best friend. His heart.
Suddenly, Mike’s face changes into an unreadable expression. It looks like he wants to say something. His eyebrows are furrowed , he’s biting his lip, and all of a sudden, he exhales.
“I hate the clash.”
.
What? Out of all the things Mike could possibly say, that was definitely not what Will was expecting.
“What?” Will says, his voice oozing with confusion. Where the hell did that come from?
“I hate the clash.” Mike repeats, this time more confident, and this time , looking directly at Will. Will swallows.
“Every-time you put them on or sing that weird song you like I try to disassociate from reality.” He exhales, again. He’s looking at Will. Like, really looking at Will as he says it. He hasn’t looked at Will like this for a long time.
Will understands what he has to do.
“I hate reading your essays. You don’t actually want to hear my critiques you just want to hear me tell you they’re great.” Will replies. He can’t help but chuckle as he says it.
“Because they are” Mike says with a shocked look on his face, but his smile is peaking through.
“Most of the time.”
“Most of the ti-“ Mike cuts himself off, and he scoffs. And then , he grins. Oh. Oh. Hes grinning. And that’s all Will needs. To see that smile. It’s all he’s ever needed really.
“Well, I was the one who took Dustin’s Uncanny X-Men 134. The one he was supposed to give to you.” He’s biting back his smile now, and it’s clear he’s not even one bit guilty.
Will gasps, but he can’t help but laugh. “Mike he spent weeks looking for that and he felt so guilty he couldn’t find it. You demon.” Mikes moving closer now. There knees are touching. Wills still laughing. Mikes still smiling.
“Well , I was the one who stole your Batman comic.” Will says. This time, Mike gasps. But he’s still smiling. He’s still smiling at Will. Good. Will wants to tell him to never stop.
“And another thing, you are always late for the beginning of everything.” Will adds on. “You remember that summer?”
Mike visibly cringes. But Will continues.
“The summer you and El huddled away into your own cocoon and you were late to every movie”
“Not every movie” Mike says in an accusatory tone.
“Well the ones that mattered!” Will giggles.
“Oh come on back to the future is seriously not that important” Mike says , again, still smiling. Still fucking smiling with that stupid amazing smile. And suddenly, they just start confessing. Confessing anything. They’re being honest, for once. And it’s all Wills been wanting for so long. This honesty. No more lies.
“I was the one who put a thumb tack on Ms Golden’s chair”
“Mike what the hell! You gremlin”
“I’m sorry but you know you hated her too”
“Not so much that I’d put a thumb tack on her chair!” Will can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
“Well Mike if it makes you feel better I was the one who forgot to feed our class pet”
“In Mr Clarke’s class? You killed Goldie?!?”
“It wasn’t my fault I swear! I forgot to feed it once, if it died from that simple mistake then maybe its body wasn’t made to last anyway!”
“You’re cruel Will Byers , I always knew you had a dark side.”
Mike didn’t even know the half of it.
Suddenly, the air in the room felt different. It felt tense, and Mikes expression softened.
“I hate that we fought that summer.”
Will’s breath catches. But he pushes through.
“And I hate that we fought at the roller rink,” he adds, his eyes filling with tears that he quickly wipes away.
“Why do we do this?” Mike says softly, his eyebrows furrowing inward. He looks at Will, and Will swears he sees tears in Mike’s eyes too. Will can’t remember the last time he saw Mike cry. Well, actually, he can-it was with Will, when Mike said that befriending him was the best thing he’d ever done. Will doesn’t know if Mike still feels the same, but he definitely does. Because there’s no one he’d rather be in this room with than Mike.
“No idea.” Will says. This time, he lets the tears trickle down his face. And then the tension thickens. Because Will has something to say. God, he has so much to say. And he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get another chance to say it. And part of him wants to keep this secret hidden forever. But he knows that he can’t. Mike deserves to know. He deserves to see this part of him. He needs to say the words he’s never been able to say before: I’m gay. I love you. Which one will be harder to say? He doesn’t know. But he has to say them. He has to be brave. Just like Mike. He looks up at the boy in front of him. He looks into the beautiful brown eyes that he fell in love with at the age of 12. And he says it. Well, he says enough.
“I lied about the painting”
A quiet pause hangs in the air. And Mikes eyes are staring directly into his. It’s exhilarating. It’s terrifying. It’s-
“I know.”
.
And now Wills confused.
What does that mean? What does Mike mean? He knows Will lied. But does he know? Does he know his secret? Does he see right through him? He thinks he’s going to be sick. But Will has been waiting for this moment for so long-to find out if Mike truly understood what Will meant when he gave him that painting in the stuffy, excruciatingly hot Surfer Boys Pizza van. So he bites the bullet.
And with a shaky voice, he asks,
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Another tear slides down his cheek.
“Why didn’t you?” Mike says, looking deeper into Will’s eyes, as if searching for the answer there. It’s a look Will knows well.
And he knows why. He knows why he couldn’t initiate the conversation. Just like how he couldn’t initiate the calls back in California, and why he could never send the letters he had poured his heart into.
“It just felt like I was doing something wrong. Like I was… going against the natural order of things.” Will can’t stop his voice from breaking as he says it.
“You know, with… what we’ve been through, it just…” he trails off.
“You mean our shared trauma?” Mike replies. Mike always seems to have the answer to everything.
“Yeah.” Will smiles faintly. “How could anyone else possibly understand?”
There’s a pregnant pause between them, and they both break eye contact. Then Mike begins to speak.
“When you were in Lenora, there’s a reason why I didn’t call. Why I didn’t send you letters.” He looks up at Will. “I just…” Mike pauses. “Couldn’t stop thinking.”
Will sighs. “Thinking about El?” He dares to look up at Mike, who still gazes at him with those painfully beautiful eyes that make Will feel sick.
Mike exhales. “Eleven’s amazing.”
It hits Will like a dagger. This is it-the moment of rejection. He’s prepared, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. Nothing he’s prepared for ever hurts less.
“And she’s so similar to you,” Mike continues. “But you’re also, at the same time, so different from each other.” He pauses, searching deeper into Will’s eyes. “Does that make sense?”
The table creaks beneath them, and suddenly Will snaps back to reality, looking around the room. The liquid is still flowing. Wow, he’s really going to die here..
But he braves looking back at Mike. “Yeah, that makes sense.” He gets what Mike is trying to say , he’s trying to be kind about rejecting him. Mike’s always been so kind, so good. Will isn’t like that. He’s not good-not like El. Mike said it himself: they’re so different from each other.
.
Will closes his eyes. For a moment, he feels numb, almost like he’s floating outside his body-like a ghost. The room seems smaller, and the table feels like it’s sinking even further.
“My point is,” Mike continues. Will’s eyes snap open. What more could he possibly have to say?
“El is amazing. She’s so independent, so sure of who she is. She knows what she wants, and that’s great.”
“But,” Mike says.
But?
“I don’t.” Their eyes meet again.
Will’s breath stiffens. He’s really trying not to overthink, but is it just him, or is Mike moving closer?
“And I guess… I was hoping I’d have time to figure that out. To figure me out.” Mike adds on.
“But then…”
This time it’s Will’s turn to answer.
“The world split in four?” He says , chuckling as he says it. It’s not funny, but if he doesn’t laugh he’ll cry.
And Mike beats him to it, because Mike’s eyes well with tears, and this time he lets them fall.
“Yeah,” Mike replies, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweater, now stiff with dried slime.
“And now…” Mike looks around the room, and Will does too. They both watch as the liquid continues to ooze and the table keeps sinking.
“And now…” he repeats. His eyebrows furrowing and his voice breaking. It kills Will to hear it.
Will decides to be brave. Because looking at Mike always makes him feel that way. He reaches out, grabs Mike’s hand, and intertwines his fingers with his own. Mike doesn’t pull away. Will meets Mike’s eyes, this time with purpose and intention.
“One last confession?” Will asks.
Mike’s eyes light up.
“A big one.”
Will’s nose twitches as he sniffs, tears still glistening on his cheeks. He takes a deep breath and exhales.
“I figure I’ve screwed up enough with you. It’d be nice to get something right with you for once.”
Then he releases Mike’s hand and gently places it in his hair. He can feel the matted slime tangled in the dark curls, but he doesn’t mind-he pulls him closer by the hair and lets their lips meet.
It’s soft, gentle-everything he’s been waiting for. He lets himself melt into the taller boy’s kiss, the boy he loves, the boy who’s now kissing him back. And all of a sudden the kiss shifted from something soft and tentative, barely a kiss, just their mouths touching- to this: the pulling, the gasping, the grabbing. It’s almost too much for Will.
Mike turns his head to the right, deepening the kiss and placing his hand on Will’s lower back, pulling him in by the shirt. Will fingers his way through Mike’s curls, drawing him even closer, as if they could ever be close enough. Mike lets out a gasp, sending Will’s stomach into a full somersault. He deepens the kiss even more.
By the time they finally pull apart, they don’t even notice. They don’t realise that the steady flow of oozing goo has stopped spewing from the walls. They don’t see that the tables have stopped sinking, that they’re safe. Because all they see is each other. That’s all they’ve ever truly seen, if Will’s being honest. And for the first time in his life, he really is.
They fall into a silence, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, just somewhere in between.
Then Mike breaks it.
“So, honesty, pretty cool , huh?” he says sheepishly, biting back a smile as he looks up at Will. Will doesn’t even try to hide his grin.
“You’re an idiot, Michael Wheeler.”
There’s a pause.
“You’re beautiful, Will Byers.”
Will feels his breath hitch. He can’t believe this is real-that they’re here, that they’re still alive.
Wait, they’re still alive?
He scans the room, glances up at the ceiling, then down at the floor. The oozing has stopped. No more waterfall of mysterious goo. He turns toward the door-no more liquid creeping in or out. They’re saved. He looks back at Mike, ready to say something, anything -
And suddenly their lips meet.
It’s sudden and brief. But it’s everything. Mike pulls back, smiling. “I guess love wins after all,” he says. It’s cheesy. It’s cringey. But it’s all Will wants. Love. Wait.
Love? Since when was that part of the equation? Will knows he’s in love, God he’s loved him for so long. But, Mike? It’s honestly too much to take in all at once.
Suddenly, a loud bang echoes through the room. Both of them whip their heads toward the wall, now cracked open. Through the gap, two familiar faces appear.
Robin and Eleven.
Robin stands proudly, holding a large rock, while Eleven wipes her nosebleed with her sleeve.
“I found a key! Come on, lovebirds, let’s get going!” Robin calls out, waving the rock triumphantly as she heads down the hall. Eleven follows close behind.
Will and Mike exchange a glance, then burst into laughter.
“God, this is so crazy,” Will says, wiping tears, he’s not sure if they’re old or new from laughing but he wipes them anyways.
“Well, crazy’s good,” Mike adds. “Remember, if we both go crazy, we’ll go crazy together?” He looks slowly up at Will.
For the first time in forever, Will doesn’t feel alone.
“Yeah, crazy together.”
——-