Chapter Text
They’d been hanging out at the arcade they’d been going to since they were kids—the same flickering lights, the same sticky floors, the same machines that never quite worked right.
Everything was normal.
At least, it should’ve been.
Everyone was talking at once—Dustin arguing with Lucas about a high score, Max leaning against a machine pretending not to care, the hum of music bleeding together into noise—but Will noticed something was off.
Mike wasn’t talking.
He was just… there.
Staring past the glass of the cabinet in front of him like he was looking through it instead of at it. He didn’t laugh when Dustin said something stupid. Didn’t jump in when Lucas teased him. Didn’t even fidget the way he usually did when he was thinking too hard.
That wasn’t like Mike.
Mike was the center. The heart. He noticed everything—everyone.
Will watched him for a second longer than he meant to.
“Hey,” Will said carefully. “Mike. You okay?”
Mike blinked, like he’d just realized where he was.
“Huh?” He looked at Will, then around at the group, like he was taking inventory. “Oh—yeah. I’m fine.”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
No one said anything right away, but they all felt it—the same quiet, sinking feeling. Because once you noticed it, you couldn’t unnotice it.
Mike had been like this for days.
Too quiet. Too distant. Like part of him wasn’t fully there.
A few minutes later, Mike checked his watch and grabbed his jacket. “I gotta go. I’m picking up Holly.”
“Yeah,” Dustin said. “Tell her I’ll beat her at Dig Dug next time.”
Mike nodded automatically, already halfway gone.
When the door shut behind him, the space he left felt bigger than it should have.
Will was the first to break the silence.
“Mike’s acting really weird,” he said.
Dustin frowned. “Yeah. I noticed it too. He’s never like that.”
Lucas shifted his weight. “Maybe we should talk to him?”
Max hesitated, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Yeah… maybe. Just—maybe after graduation?”
They all nodded.
It felt easier to postpone it. Easier to believe there’d be time later.
None of them knew that later was already slipping away.
——— The next day ———
Joyce was in the kitchen when the phone rang.
She almost didn’t answer it.
She didn’t know why—just that familiar, awful feeling settling in her chest before she even picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Joyce!” Karen’s voice came through loud and panicked. “Is Mike there? I can’t find him anywhere. He was supposed to pick Holly up from school yesterday and he never showed up.”
Joyce’s stomach dropped.
“No,” she said slowly. “I—I don’t think so. Let me check with Will. Just—just give me a second, okay?”
She set the phone down on the counter, her hand lingering on it for half a heartbeat too long. She’d heard this kind of fear before. Too many times.
Joyce walked down the hall and knocked once before pushing Will’s door open.
“Will?” she asked, already bracing herself. “Have you seen Mike?”
Will looked up from his bed, confused. “No. Why?”
“Karen says she hasn’t seen him. He didn’t pick Holly up from school yesterday.”
The color drained from Will’s face.
“He—he left the arcade,” Will said quickly. “He said he was going to pick her up. I watched him go.”
The room felt suddenly too quiet.
Joyce’s breath caught.
Will swallowed, dread curling tight in his chest. “He was acting weird yesterday,” he added, the words tumbling out now. “Like he wasn’t really there.”
Joyce closed her eyes for just a second.
Not again.
Joyce rushes to call karen back and let her know that will hasn’t seen mike.
“Will hasn’t seen him,” Joyce said when she picked the phone back up. Her voice was steady, but only because she was forcing it to be. “They were all hanging out at the arcade yesterday. Mike left early—he said he had to go pick Holly up.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.
Joyce stared at the floor.
Something about this felt wrong in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Different from when Will went missing. Different from when Holly disappeared for those awful hours.
More dangerous.
Joyce loved Mike like he was her own. She always had. She’d watched him grow up alongside Will—two boys constantly in her house, tracking mud through the living room, whispering plans late into the night.
She was the one who cleaned Mike’s scraped knees and patched up bruises after bike crashes and fights he never talked about. The one who made him sit still at the kitchen table while she dabbed antiseptic on his cuts, even when he insisted he was fine.
She knew Mike.
And she knew—deep in her bones—that he wouldn’t just disappear.
Joyce hung up the phone, letting out a slow breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
The house felt too quiet. Too empty.
She pressed her hand to the counter, staring down at the receiver for a moment. She knew that sinking feeling all too well—the one that made the hair on her arms prickle, the one that told her something was very, very wrong.
Somewhere, far away, Mike was moving.
⸻
Outside, Mike stood frozen in front of the Creel house. The street was silent, the trees motionless, but a strange weight pressed against his chest. Nothing looked familiar, yet somehow everything felt like it should.
“Where… am I?” he muttered, his voice groggy and uncertain.
His feet carried him forward before his mind could protest. The door loomed ahead, old and worn, paint peeling, a shadow stretching from the porch.
“The Creel house…? When did I get here?”
He lifted a hand to push the door open.
And then he heard it.
A grandfather clock, chiming somewhere deep inside, its tone impossibly clear, resonating straight through his chest.
“Wait… a grandfather clock? This can’t be happening,” he whispered.
He stepped across the threshold.
Everything went black.
⸻
When Mike’s eyes opened, he was somewhere else entirely.
Cool air pressed against his skin. The sky hung gray and heavy overhead. He was in the town square—right in front of the memorial.
“What…? Why am I here?” His voice trembled.
“Hey, kid!”
Mike spun around. Relief hit at first—Hopper, looking for him. But something felt… wrong.
Hopper’s voice was flat, stiff. His movements just slightly too measured, like he was walking on a memory of himself instead of his own body.
“Everyone’s looking for you,” Hopper said again.
Mike’s chest tightened. His instincts screamed: this wasn’t the Hopper he knew. Not even close.
And then the faint, unshakable feeling settled in: he wasn’t in Hawkins. At least not the Hawkins he knew—no. This was different.
———
“CODE RED! EVERYONE! MIKE IS MISSING! GET TO MY HOUSE NOW!” Will’s voice cracked over the old radio channel they’d been using since childhood, the urgency cutting through the quiet of the afternoon like a knife.
⸻
Dustin yanked his bag onto his shoulder, radio clutched in hand. He ran for the door before thinking twice. Steve. Robin. They had to be warned. Mike’s life depended on how fast they moved.
⸻
Max grabbed her skateboard and radio, sprinting toward Will’s house with her heart hammering in her chest. Every second mattered.
⸻
Lucas hoisted his bike and sprinted toward the driveway. Bag slung over his shoulder, he pedaled as fast as he could.
⸻
None of them knew if Mike was even alive. Not for certain.
But if there was even a sliver of a chance—any chance at all—they owed it to him to chase it.
And if Vecna was still out there, pulling the strings, they were going to need their storyteller.
They were going to need the heart of their group.
———
Once everyone had arrived at the Byers house, they immediately got to work, trying to make sense of the chaos.
“Why Mike?” Max asked, frowning. “Wouldn’t it make more sense if he took Will? Will’s the one with powers. He’s been the target from the very beginning.”
Dustin ran a hand through his hair. “Why now? Nothing important has happened recently. Every time someone vanishes, it’s always before something big. So what is Vecna planning this time—and why was Mike the target?”
He paused, thinking out loud, his voice tight with urgency. “Okay… let’s step back. What’s Mike’s role in all of this? What could make Vecna take him instead of Will?”
Lucas spoke up, a spark of realization in his eyes. “He’s the DM. He’s the storyteller. He writes the story.”
Will’s eyes widened. “Think about it! Every time Mike writes a campaign, it comes true. Whatever story he makes, it always predicts how our battles end.”
Will shook his head, voice tight with urgency. “And everyone Vecna goes after… they’re always close to Mike. I’m his best friend. Holly’s his little sister. Max—they’re basically like siblings. I don’t believe in coincidences. Not anymore.”
A tense silence followed as the pieces started to click together. They’d been missing parts of the puzzle, but now… now it was coming into focus.
They just had to figure out how to put it together in time.
Lucas paced the room, rubbing his hands together. “Back when Mike was in California—why would Vecna wait until he was gone to start opening the gates? We thought it was a coincidence back then, but…” He stopped, looking up. “I don’t believe in coincidences anymore.”
“Shit,” Dustin breathed suddenly, eyes going wide. “The quarry.”
Everyone turned to him.
“Back when Will was missing,” Dustin said, voice shaking as the memory resurfaced. “Mike and I were there. Troy came up behind me—he had a knife. He told Mike he’d hurt me if Mike didn’t jump.”
The room went dead silent.
“Mike didn’t even think about it,” Dustin continued. “He just… jumped. No hesitation. El saved him before he hit the rocks, but—” His voice cracked. “He was ready to die. To save me.”
Will felt his chest tighten.
“But it doesn’t make sense,” Dustin said quickly, pacing now. “Why would Troy even say that? The whole thing—it felt wrong. It still feels wrong.” He stopped suddenly, realization slamming into him. “What if it wasn’t just them? What if Vecna was already there—already controlling things?”
Lucas swallowed. “You think you weren’t the target.”
Dustin shook his head slowly. “What if I never was? What if it was Mike the whole time?”
“So Mike was Vecna’s real target… from the beginning?” Max asked quietly, the pieces finally snapping together.
Will nodded, his breath shaky. “It makes sense. Vecna isn’t just powerful—he’s a strategist. He plans. He waits.” His voice grew steadier as the realization took hold. “Of course he’d go after the one person who’s been the real reason we’ve won every time.”
Dustin’s stomach dropped.
“He’s been after Mike since the start,” Will continued. “Everyone else—me, El, Max, Holly—we were never the end goal. We were pawns. A means to an end.” He swallowed hard. “Stepping stones to get to the king.”
The word hung in the air.
“But Mike doesn’t know that,” Will said suddenly, horror creeping into his voice.
They all looked at him.
“Mike has always thought he’s insignificant,” Will said, tears burning in his eyes. “That he’s just… there. That things would be the same without him.” His voice broke. “But what if that isn’t Mike thinking that? What if that’s Vecna?”
No one spoke.
“What if Vecna’s been in his head for years?” Will whispered. “He let us believe I was the target so we’d never look closer. So Mike would never realize what he actually is.” His tears finally spilled over. “He needs Mike weak. He needs him to believe he doesn’t matter.”
Will pressed his hands to his face, shaking.
We failed him, he thought.
Mike has been hurting in silence—and I was too blind to see it.
———
own. He was… at the quarry.
“Hurry up! The dentist’s office opens in five…
4…
3…
2…”
And suddenly, he was falling, just like the first time.
But this time, he didn’t come back up. He hovered in midair, suspended in that terrifying moment, until a voice slithered through his mind.
“You should have died that day, Michael,” it said. Chilling. Certain.
“You were never meant to survive.”
A shiver ran down his spine. The voice continued, slow, relentless:
“And deep in the back of your mind… you know. A part of you did die that day. You never really made it out of that quarry.”
Mike’s instinct screamed to fight it. To deny it. But the words dug in, and he felt a sick twist of truth.
Somewhere inside, he knew.
Vecna had him.
———
“We have to hurry,” Will says, his voice shaking but determined. “If we don’t get to Mike… we don’t win. We already know what happens when he’s not there. It’ll just be the four gates all over again.”
No one argues. No one needs to.
Maps are spread across the table. Radios are checked. Bags are packed with whatever they can think of—flashlights, weapons, anything that might give them a chance. The room hums with quiet panic and focus, the kind that only comes when time is running out.
Will wipes his face with the back of his sleeve and forces himself to breathe.
Please be okay.
I need you to be okay.
I don’t know how to do this without you.
He swallows hard, pushes the fear down, and gets to work.