Still here, before the storm breaks

There was mostly darkness around. Oppressive and suffocating to the heart, cold and damp to the touch. It clung to Will's skin, to his lungs, like the Upside Down always did.

This darkness Will knew too well. He had revisited it many times in his worst dreams—nightmares that lately had reshaped themselves into other shadows. Not vines or monsters, but something closer. His heart. His shame.

Even now—here, walking through this warped reflection of Hawkins, on the edge of whatever came next—he thought he felt slightly better. If he didn’t focus on who had been listening to his words earlier, or the slow-motion reactions as realisation dawned on their faces, he could almost enjoy the relief. If he didn’t linger on the embarrassment of having cried so hard in front of everyone, he could feel it clearly.

The weight lifted off his shoulders.

The possibility of living differently. More honestly.

Will walked with his flashlight raised, casting a trembling circle of light ahead of him. The rest of the group moved a few meters in front, careful, quiet. The military would follow them soon enough—once they regrouped after the attack. Any second, they could appear. They needed to reach the lab quickly. El and Kali—all of them—had a dangerous road ahead.

Will slowed without meaning to, just enough to notice that Mike wasn’t walking with the others. He hovered a few steps behind the party, hands buried in his vest pockets, eyes unfocused. Pensive. Distant. Like his body was moving on instinct while his mind trailed somewhere else entirely.

Will remembered Mike’s fingers laced with El’s inside the truck, the way he’d held on as if letting go would make everything fall apart. Of course, he was worried—about the plan, about El getting hurt, about Holly. About all of it.

Will had thought about asking if he was okay. He hadn’t.

He’d already seen the answer in Mike’s eyes anyway.

They both knew who Will had meant when he talked about a crush. The word still felt imprecise, chosen carefully to soften the truth, to dull the edge of rejection before it could cut too deep. A crush on a friend. That was all he’d allowed himself to say.

In the middle of the end of the world, with everyone he loved walking toward something that might kill them, there was no room for anything messier than that.

He would be ready.

He wasn’t scared anymore. Fear was just a survival instinct, right?

In the face of catastrophe —that was what awaited them if they failed again— he needed his head clear. His heart present.

Will breathed in slowly, steadying himself, trying to calm his thudding heart down. He hated this place, the smell of decay, the colours and textures of a world that seemed to thrive in death and grief. 

He hated that he had helped bring it closer to home. That he had been a doorway, instrumental in the Upside Down's infiltration of Hawkins. That knowledge had confirmed his worst fear—that he was tainted. Guilty.

He looked up at the storm-choked sky. Red light washed over his face for a brief second.

Guilt. Shame. Fear.

Vecna’s favorite tools.

Will had felt it once more, petrified under the spell, exposed to his deepest regrets.

Will had felt them all again under the spell—frozen, exposed, dragged through his deepest regrets.

“Will, I’m scared…”

His mom’s voice had echoed in his head, so real it had made his chest ache. Her crying face.

“What if people don’t understand? They never do. What if you can’t get a job, or go to college? What if someone hurts you when they find out?”

Will, honey, I’m scared…

And he had echoed it, because deep down he knew it wasn’t only about being different. It wasn’t just about the quiet feeling that something in him didn’t quite click, and that eventually, people would notice. People had. Mike had even said it to his face.

It was about losing the people who had always stood beside him. About making their lives harder. About becoming someone they had to explain, protect, and shield against a world that would always be hostile. That could never change.

Up ahead, Hopper was guiding them forward with the quiet authority he always carried into danger. El walked beside him, back straight, jaw set, eyes fixed on the path ahead. She looked steady—strong in a way that wasn’t loud.

Will felt something ease in his chest at the sight of her. Trust. Whatever waited for them, they weren’t walking into it blind.

So he had exorcised the fear.

He had cleansed it, let it go.

Finally, what had lived inside —what Vecna had used against him like a festering wound— had been set free. It could no longer be turned against the people Will loved.

He had found it.

The strength to speak. To accept.

The lab rose out of the dark like a wound that refused to close. Its walls were cracked and warped, veins of red light pulsing faintly beneath the surface, as if something inside it was still alive—breathing.

They stopped without anyone having to say it.

Will felt goosebumps ripple up his arms. He knew what this place meant—to El, to himself. A place of cages and hands that hurt, of lessons taught through pain. A beginning he’d never wanted.

Thunder rolled overhead, distant but constant, and beneath it Will caught other sounds: a low hum, the creak of stressed metal, something shifting far below them.

One by one, they started moving again. Into the lab.

"Will."

Mike was there, a hand on Will's shoulder. Mike’s eyes held that familiar sadness. The kind that meant he’d been thinking too much and saying very little.

Will missed this. The moments when the world narrowed to just them—when they could be honest without trying.

There had been many like that over the last year and a half. Late nights. Long talks. Mike opening the doors of his house like it was nothing. Comforting him after nightmares, when Jonathan was too exhausted to wake and Will padded upstairs to wash his face or catch his breath.

Sometimes Will wondered if Mike even slept anymore. He always seemed to be awake when Will was—already sitting up, already listening, as if he’d been waiting.

They studied together. Talked until words ran thin. Will drew while Mike read or listened to music, stretched out on the basement sofa. Will caught Mike watching sometimes—especially when he was focused on a difficult piece, humming quietly under his breath.

The looks weren’t intense. Just… attentive. Soft. There were those creases next to Mike's eyes, the ones that appeared when he smiled with his whole face.

“What?” Will had asked once, smiling.

Mike had shrugged.

“You’re always so… you… when you draw,” he had said, like he’d reached the edge of a thought he didn’t know how to cross.

“So me?”

“Yeah. You know. You, Will.”

And in his name, Will had heard many things. The artist, the carefree child, the wise. My friend. My best friend.

Those months had been a reprieve in the middle of change and chaos.

But then, Holly had disappeared. Henry—Vecna—set everything in motion. And Will hadn't been able to rescue her.

And Will had been pulled back into the place where it all began. Not the Upside Down itself.

The fear.

The shame.

The secrets.

Mike had been brave through it all—but Will worried about him.About that self-controlled mask that he wore, never wavering in case somebody else needed to lean on him. Always steady. Always the heart.

"Earth to Will,” Mike said softly, waving a hand. “You there?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Will shook his head. “Just… a lot.”

“Yeah,” Mike admitted. “Me too.”

His hand stayed on Will’s shoulder. In the cold darkness, the warmth felt amplified.

“Are you scared?” Will asked.

“Well—yeah,” Mike cleared his throat. “A lot could go wrong. But I trust the plan.”

He met Will’s eyes. "I trust our party. Us."

The familiar steadiness spread through Will’s chest.

“C’mon!” Nancy called.

Will turned—but Mike spoke again.

“We’re right behind you.” His hand brushed Will’s arm as he stepped back. “Will… before everything goes down. I need to ask you something.”

Will’s stomach tightened all at once. His first instinct was to pull away, to postpone whatever Mike was about to say. Not now, his mind begged. Not here.

He knew honesty was the right thing. He just hadn’t expected it to be demanded in the middle of the end of the world.

"Okay."

"When you said you didn't like girls, I… I remembered." Mike hesitated. “Our fight. How awful I was. I said it like there was something wrong with you.”

“Mike—”

"No, listen." The words rushed now. "I hate to think I made you feel like that. It wasn't right.I know what it’s like to not understand yourself. To wonder if you’re different in a way that’s not okay. I never wanted you to feel out of place. Especially not because of me. I.. I.."

“I know,” Will said gently, placing a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “We were kids.”

"But I blame myself. For not knowing, for not noticing sooner."

"What do you mean?"

Mike opened his mouth and closed it again. He sighed. "I know it's not the right time, not now when were about to blow a wormhole in the sky. But…"

He glanced back at Will's face and Will felt his heart sink. What was so hard to say? That his friendship couldn't ever be the same? That things had irrevocably changed between them?

Will had been so careful not to say anything specific. He would never jeopardise their friendship. But it had all been so confusing lately; their year and a half together, their talks, hugs, and moments.

"I just—" Mike finally said after what felt like an agonisingly long pause. "No matter what happens, okay? You’re… you’re one of the most important people in my life. That’s not changing."

The words seemed to have surprised him as much as Will.

Will smiled, his heart swelling, squeezing Mike's shoulder. "You too…"

“You understand me,” Mike continued. "You know everything, what I love about D&D, and what I think about the Dicks splitting up, and why I can't read more than three pages at a time, and how I always like to see your concept drawings of a character first before I finish their background story, and why I never liked that Brazil movie because it was two hours and a half long and I just couldn't focus…" he took a deep breath. "You know me."

Mike’s hands settled on Will’s arms.

"I've always known you. I'm thankful for what you told us today, what you told me today, because… because…"

Will swallowed. "Mike, the important thing is I've been honest with y'all. After such a long time, that's all that matters."

"Honesty, yes. That's the thing. I told Nancy days ago that I don't want to have any more regrets. But, I can't… I don't know how…"

"How what?"

"How to ask…" he took a deep breath. "That time you told me about the painting, how I made El feel less like a mistake, like it wasn't wrong being different. All of that… was it really her?"

Will looked down. Honesty, that was all that mattered. "Not, not really."

"El never commissioned that painting, right?" Mike's voice was almost a whisper now.

"She didn't. It was mine. A gift for you."

"So everything you said then, that was you."

"It was…"

Mike nodded slowly, like something was rearranging itself in his head. "All you said, it was you…"

"Mike, I know I lied, but I didn't want to. I didn't know how to tell you all of that because I thought I was going to ruin us and that you would be disgusted, or angry or just too shocked to…"

Will couldn't finish because Mike pulled Will into a hug so tight it stole the breath from his lungs.

Mike was holding him, like he could vanish from the face of the Earth, like it was the only thing. Will finally returned the hug, tears falling down his face.

They hugged silently for a while.

“I thought about those words every day, Will. For an entire year.”

Will didn't say anything.

"I couldn't understand…" Mike continued. "How El had come up with this beautiful gift and never said anything about it. I didn't know how to ask her, and she never liked D&D, so it must have meant she had made an effort, right? But she was so distant with me, and I couldn't ask her and risk making it worse."

"I'm sorry I lied to you." Will's voice came out muffled. "But I felt the same. I didn't want to make things worse. To ruin… us."

"Nothing can ruin us, Will. I told you, you're the most important person in my life."

Mike cupped Will's head with his hand.

"Do you mean that?" Will loosened the hug.

"I do. I can't lose you again."

Will took a step back, brushing the tears off his face.

“It’s not Hawkins,” Mike said softly. “It’s me. I’m not the same without you.”

Will smiled through the ache. "I don't know what to say."

"I've said enough for both of us, I think." Mike smiled at him, eyes bright. It was nice, not awkward, not tense.

It was them.

"Listen, Will," Mike took one of Will's hands. "This is a lot to process…"

Will felt his hand in Mike's, and a tingling sensation travelled down his spine. "I know that."

"Just, let's follow the plan. Let's defeat Vecna, and when we are finally free from all this shit… We'll talk. And we'll figure it out."

Mike brushed Will's knuckle with his thumb.

Will squeezed his fingers. "Like we always do."

"You and me. Like we always do."

They turned together and walked toward the lab.