Chapter Text
Heavy panting filled the hallway, disgust covered everyone's faces as they breathed in the cramped space’s mildew air. Breaths of the group quietened when creaking footsteps were heard outside the large industrial doors at the end of the hall, where 10 seconds ago their entire group of friends had scrambled through to escape a Demogorgon. Then, in a rush of panic, slid a metal bar Steve had broken off a pipe to secure the door shut. The Demogorgon’s existence remained proven by its glowing shadow highlighted from under the door, everyone's eyes pinned as quiet and short shuffles were slowly made backward, getting ready to begin running again out the doors behind them, that was until the Demogorgon instead chose to investigate a new location, as its shadow disappeared and its footsteps grew quiet. Everyone released their breaths all at once, panting, filling the room once again.
“Do you think it’ll break through?” Jonathan asked, eyes pinned to the metal bar, seemingly less stable than when they came up with the idea. His hand rested firmly on Will’s shoulder.
“No”, Nancy replied sternly, standing up straight, “No way, that thing's pure metal, even if it did, we’d definitely get the hint before it succeeded”
Nancy, Jonathan, Steve and Dustin had just met up with the rest of the group (Will, Mike, Lucas and Robin) after escaping the upside down. They had found Brennar’s notebooks and discovered the most shocking thing their entire friend group, and the world if they were told, would hear about their entire lives. Dustin would rush to explain these theories just learned, even in the absence of El and Hopper, who remained unsignaled in the Upside Down. He had spoken quickly, as if everyone could keep up with his brilliant brain. The Abyss, what the upside was, why the Russians HAD to come to Hawkins to open the gate, where Vecna had been hiding, everything. The fate of everything was quickened in a 5-minute conversation, when a Demogorgon stormed into the WSQK, the Squawk Headquarters, causing the group to scramble together and run into the nearest room, a bland yet ominous hallway. It was crammed, with grey walls, roof and doors on both ends, it clearly hadn't been cleaned or even cared about in decades, something Robin and Steve were obviously supposed to do as a part of their daily shifts. Small grey doors were the only thing that broke the monotony, two on the left and one on the right. Behind one was a cleaning closet, a spider web was strung from its corner. The other 2 were tech rooms, filled with glowing wires and large machines that made something so technologically advanced, like the squawk, exist.
“What now?” Lucas asked, looking around at everyone. They had all naturally gathered in some kind of tight circle, just wide enough to fit everyone.
At that question, everyone looks at Will, “What?” He furrows his brows at the attention.
“Cmon, man!” A smile spreads across Dustin's face as he lowers his voice and says, “Do it again” Will rolls his eyes, realising what they wanted.
“I mean, can't you just focus, and our little ‘problem’ will be over!” Lucas adds.
“Guys” Will says sighing, “I wish I could just close my eyes and kill it but” he pauses, voice reflecting a sadness only Will himself noticed, “Im not like El. I have NO idea how I did it the first time, it was in a fit of intense fear, and yeah im scared right now but” his eyes allow a short glance up from the ground to look at mike, who he noticed was distracted not looking at Will like the rest of the squad, instead gaze draining and unfocused on the ground. “This isn't the same situation”, Will ends his thought, “I don't know how”, he concludes. The rest of the group breaks their eye contact with him, about half having understanding looks, while a few have visible disappointment, crossing their arms, even a few sighs. Understandably, Will thought, I mean, they were one metal pole away from literally losing the fight against Vecna. Will’s eyes hadn't bothered with their disappointment, though; they remained focused on Mike, his stare unwavering from the cold, grey, marble floor they all stood on. “Mike?” Mike’s head jerks up at his name, meeting Will’s stare, understanding he was worried about Mike’s lack of interest. “Sorry”, he replied, voice dull, “Just thinking”
“Well, it better be about this”, Nancy growled, as she raised her arm and lightly jabbed her elbow into his side, “Get it together”. Mike softly nodded, clearly a lie as his eyes immediately took one glance at Will before returning to the ground, back lost in whatever world he clearly wishes he was in, instead of this one.
Mike had been thinking all day, unfocused, yet still it felt to everyone like this day would never end. Mike had deduced at that point that it was useless thinking, but something he couldn't stop like a cycle, almost entranced. His thoughts and feelings on loop, ugh, feelings. The worst thing about all of it is he didn't even recognise these feelings, and he's felt things before, like happiness, sadness, at least he thinks. But this, this was different; he was uncomfortable. Maybe he just missed El, yeah, he missed El.
So there he was, again, everyone around him, including himself, barely barred from death, and all he could do, again, was be spacey. He felt like an underpaid astronaut for all the time he spent up there in the clouds. He heard Will’s soft voice in the background explaining something. Mike could tell his words were chosen carefully, they always were. He tried to fully listen, fully engage, fully hear Will, but his eyes pinned downwards, his head feeling heavy as the grey floors started shifting into shapes and creatures. Then he heard a scream, a name, Will’s name? It was Jonathon who made the cry. As he looks up, his heart drops at the deadly sight of Will right across from him, eyes fully coloured white. His brain still not computing, but as he feels his heart skip literal beats, his whole body is reminded that Will’s in danger. I guess his heart was the only one to remember.
“Will!” He calls, instantly running forward to grip his shoulder, “Will, what's wrong?” he says, looking Will up and down, searching for something unknown to him. Will's face remains emotionless, his body flat to itself.
“Will, buddy, what's happening? Are you using your powers again or something?” Jonathan questions, gripping Will’s other shoulder, as everyone else huddles around him; worry fills their faces.
“Maybe he just felt that fear again?” Lucas questions; his voice already shows that he knows what he's saying is wrong. “Maybe that Demogorgon is out there dying as the rest did”
“No”, Mike says sternly, his gaze never leaving Will’s face, “When it happened last time, his eyes were white, but he was in control of his body” Mike’s other hand falls to old Will’s elbow of his opposite side, instantly he felt Will’s coldness spread over his warm hand, “He could move”. As if reacting to Mike’s words, Will’s body starts to ascend upwards slowly, barely noticeable at first as his sneakers slide against the ground, before they no longer touch it at all. Everyone then understood, eyes all wide. Mike’s grip on Will’s shoulder fell, as Mike remained motionless in unwavering shock. His hand was now touching Will’s hand, at the same level as his shoulder had just been. His brain then caught up with the situation. Lord he needed to focus. He grabbed Will’s hand. “Will!” He screamed, his yell awoke the others’ senses as well, and some rushed to call his name, while others grabbed a leg or hand, attempting to pull him down, to make him normal.
“HOLY SHIT!” Mike heard Lucas yell, groaning as he pulled on Will’s leg with all his might, even lifting his own legs. Will’s body remains unmoving, not reacting to the weight at all.
“Holy crap crap crap, is this like Max?” Lucas recalls, giving up and replanting both his feet on the floor, his face undeniably scared. “No no no no” Jonathan stutters, remaining in his position shell shell-shocked with fear, “This can't be happening” He then awakes from his frozen position, grabbing Will’s other hand. “Will!” he screams, voice cracking, “Will, can you hear me!” Mike joins in on this strategy. Hearing other people call and yell things, none of it mattered. Mike knew he was the only one to ever help Will. Will needed Mike, and even though he never had the guts to admit it, Mike needed Will.
“Will!” He calls, “Will you have to fight it!” He tries to recall what helped Max, “Think of memories, Will!” Tensions were high, and Mike’s body was numb, his eyes still betraying him as he blinked heavily. How could he possibly be tired right now? With so much adrenaline. Looking up into Will’s whited-out eyes, squeezing his hand, which was now freezing cold, he felt a salty tear run down his face.
Realising he didn't hear anyone anymore is what brought him back to life; he didn't hear Lucas swearing anymore, he didn't hear the panting of Nancy. He didn't even hear the denial-filled cries of Jonathon. Nothing. Mike turned around to survey the room to find what? To find nothing. The hallway was empty. Colder than before, greyer than before. He stepped back to his body was pressed into the legs of a still afloat Will Byers. “Nancy?” his voice quiet, shaking nervously. “Jonathon? Nancy? Lucas!” Each name he called louder than the last, but nevertheless, the hallway never responded. He turned back to Will, deciding to give up on the disappearance of everyone he ever loved, because one person was still here, not gone, not yet. He returned to shaking Will’s arm, desperate for a reaction. “Will, can you hear me? Can you follow my voice out of there! Will!” Salty tears filled his mouth, throwing off and slurring his words. His brain could barely process this situation, let alone react to it. In a short, deafening silence of doomed realisation, Mike hears a soft-toned voice, “Mike?” he turns around in a heartbeat, his heart beating only for that second until it drops down low to his stomach. There in front of the wide grey double doors, once blocked by a pole, was an extremely young Will Byers, maybe even one from before November 6th. Dare Mike say a Will he knew, knew better anyway. He looked innocent, not yet fully affected by life, no eye bags, no scars, even a little paint on the cuffs of his shirt. Mike turns around to see his Will, well, the now Will. But he was gone. Gone. He was simply staring at the gloomy hallway. He couldn't tell, but he swore it was darker than before, and smaller. Like the space was giving up on itself. But besides this realisation, there was no floating William to be seen; instead, it was just Mike’s hand floating in the air, colder from when it once gripped Will’s hand. Allowing his hand to fall flat to his side, he turned back to look at old Will. Will’s face was nervous, his brows furrowed, and his head slightly turned to the side. He was worried, worried for Mike? Maybe. Mike's brain was getting worse, fuzzier, like he was about to collapse. Like, no matter how worried or scared or anything he was, he wasn't focused. Something was in his brain with him, censoring his thoughts, blurring his reality. Blurring the small, wonderful child in front of him.
Full-blown screaming filled the hall, echoing off the walls, off the floor, everywhere. It was engraving itself in Will’s brain, screams that he would remember. Most escaping Nancy, as she cried like Will had never heard before, the rest split between the group. None of them came from Will. No. Will remained frozen, cowardly standing 2 meters away as people huddled around the floating body. The floating body of Michael Wheeler.
His face is imprinted with an unrecognisable fear, as his limbs were glued to his side, like his feet to the floor. Others grabbed and scratched at his body, heaving and pulling him down. Will didn't know what to do. All he could really hear was his own panting as his face tilted up to see Mike’s fully coloured white eyes.
The events of this rather unexpected float blurred in his mind. He and the group had started to discuss their game plan, how to kill the flower-faced creature looming outside, when Mike had collapsed to the ground, shaking dramatically. Nancy was the first to react, from what Will could see, she had grabbed him, so only half his limp body fell. She had yelled his name over and over, tried to lift him back to his feet as the others realised to crowded around. Will had run to his side, grabbing his arm, calling his name to him sternly, as if condemning him for a joke he clearly wasn't making. That was until he started to rise, not to his feet as they had wished, past that. Rise until his curly hair brushed the ceiling. As he rose, Will did too, but gravity limited Will as his feet seized to the floor, simply looking up, distraught. Now they were really fucked.