Chapter Text
The heavy double doors stood wide open, letting in a lazy stream of summer sunlight that sliced through the usual dimness like a hesitant intruder. Teenagers spilled everywhere, laughing, hugging, shoving duffel bags, shouting names across the marble floor. The buzz was infinite, electric, the kind of noise that made Will feel small and exposed at the same time.
He took a deep breath, fingers tightening around the strap of his backpack until the canvas bit into his palm. His head spun, his stomach twisted itself into knots so tight he half expected to throw up right there on the polished floor. First day of freshman year at this ridiculous, impossible dream school, and all he could think was “What if I ruin this? What if I’m not good enough?”
Then Mike bumped him gently with his shoulder, solid and warm, the same way he’d done since kindergarten when Will was scared of the big slide.
“Hey, Will. Calm down.” Mike’s voice was low, just for him. “This is our dream school. Everything is going to be fine.”
Will nodded, managed a small, shaky smile. His eyes lingered on Mike’s face a second too long’ the easy confidence in his grin, the way the sunlight caught in his dark hair and made him look like he belonged here, like he’d always belonged everywhere.
They stepped inside together.
The world hushed instantly, as though the very air remembered its old solemnity even in the chaos. The vast space stretched before them: nine thousand square feet of High Victorian Gothic splendor, inspired by the ancient dining halls of Oxford and Cambridge. High above, massive hammerbeam trusses of dark oak arched like the ribs of some enormous, ancient creature Will might have drawn in one of his sketchbooks on a sleepless night. The ceiling, painted in deep blues and golds with delicate stenciled patterns, floated impossibly distant, catching stray beams of light that turned the colors soft and dreamlike.
A grand staircase split in two directions ahead of them, rising toward a towering central window that poured light down like liquid gold.
Mike let out a low whistle. “Whoa. This is absolutely insane.”
Will exhaled the breath he’d been holding, a little laugh escaping despite himself. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Insane.”
He pointed left, tugging Mike’s sleeve. “Come on. Let’s get the keys. I need to see our room before I actually pass out.”
Mike grinned and immediately started pushing through the crowd, one hand firmly around Will’s wrist so he didn’t get lost in the sea of bodies. Will followed, half dragged, half willing, heart hammering for a completely different reason now.
They reached the glass door marked PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE in elegant gold lettering. Mike straightened his shoulders, pushed it open, and stepped inside like he belonged there.
The principal was an elderly woman with long brown hair and glasses that were comically too big for her face. She looked up from her desk and smiled, warm and slightly amused.
“Hello, boys. What do you need? You two are freshmen?”
They nodded in unison. She gestured to the two chairs in front of her desk and they sat Mike first, Will a half second behind, knees bouncing under the table.
Mike spoke up, voice small but pretending to be confident. “I’m Mike Wheeler, and this is Will Byers.”
Will gave a quick nod, confirming, cheeks already warming because Mike had said their names together like they were one unit.
The principal hummed, rifling through a stack of papers and key rings. “Wheeler and Byers… yes, here we are. Room 13. Boys’ wing, left side.” She slid two keys across the desk, along with folded schedules and a campus map. “You should hurry, the welcome assembly starts in fifteen minutes. Just follow the signs to the Great Hall or follow me.. I actually need to be there too.” She chuckled
She stood, still smiling, and opened the door for them. Will and Mike scrambled up, mumbling thank yous and followed her out.
She led them through the throng with practiced ease, pointing out landmarks as they went the library wing, the music rooms, the arched corridor that led to the dorms. When they reached the base of the grand staircase, she stopped and turned to them.
“You’ll do wonderfully here, boys,” she said, eyes crinkling. “Just remember, this place was built for people who dream big. Don’t be afraid to fill it.”
Mike turned to Will, eyebrows raised. “Room 13. That’s, like, objectively cursed, right?”
Will snorted despite himself. “You’re the one who signed us up for the ‘historic wing.’ You wanted authenticity.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t think authenticity included possible poltergeists.” Mike bumped Will’s shoulder again, softer this time.
The principal led them through the arched corridor with the calm efficiency of someone who had walked these halls for decades. Her shoes clicked softly against the stone, a steady metronome against the rising tide of voices echoing from the Great Hall ahead.
Mike kept up his running commentary under his breath, just loud enough for Will to hear, voice pitched like he was narrating their own private D&D campaign.
“Critical perception check on the headmistress,” Mike muttered, squinting dramatically. “She’s got that ‘I’ve seen three generations of freshmen try to sneak out after curfew’ vibe. Bet she’s got a secret dungeon full of confiscated contraband from 1892. Or maybe she’s a level 20 lich in disguise. Explains the robes and the zero tolerance for nonsense aura. She could definitely be a vampire too”
Will’s lips twitched into a soft grin. “You’d roll a natural one and faint if she asked you to stay after dark for ‘extra guidance.’”
“Only if she tried to suck my blood,” Mike shot back, flashing a theatrical wink. “I’m saving that for someone special. Like, you know, the chosen one. Prophecy foretold. Dice said so.”
Will rolled his eyes so hard he nearly collided with a pillar carved with tiny ravens. “You’re ridiculous. And your charisma modifier is clearly in the negatives.”
“And you love it,” Mike said without missing a beat, softly bumping Will’s shoulder again, once, twice, like it was their secret handshake. “Besides, if I’m the chaotic neutral bard here, you’re the lawful good paladin who’s secretly hoarding all the inspiration dice. Look how the tables turned ”
They reached the massive double doors of the Great Hall. An upperclassman in a crisp maroon blazer waved them toward a row near the middle. Mike slid in first, then Will, their knees knocking together as they squeezed into the sea of buzzing new freshmen.
The hall was breathtaking up close. Sunlight poured through the towering stained glass windows in ribbons of ruby, sapphire and gold, painting the stone floor in shifting mosaics of light. The hammerbeam ceiling soared overhead like something out of a medieval manuscript, dark oak beams curving gracefully, painted with constellations that seemed to pulse with the soft sway of the chandeliers. Hundreds of voices rose and fell like waves, then hushed as the lights dimmed just enough to make the space feel sacred, almost magical.
A ripple of excited murmurs spread as the headmistress stepped to the podium. She wore the traditional black academic robes with maroon trim, and when she raised her hands, the room fell silent instantly.
“Welcome to Ravenwood Academy,” she began, her voice warm yet carrying effortlessly to every corner. “For many of you, this is your first day in a place that has stood for centuries, not just as buildings of stone, but as a living legacy of courage, curiosity, and unbreakable community.
“Ravenwood was founded on the belief that true education happens not only in classrooms, but in the quiet moments between friends, in the late night debates under these very stars painted above us, in the shared triumphs and the shared stumbles. Here, you will find your people, the ones who will challenge you, cheer for you, and choose to stay even when the path gets difficult.”
Wills was listening, the speech really getting to him, on the other hand, Mike was turning to him so often, laughing at some silly things
“This is a place of tradition, yes our house system, our midnight astronomy vigils, our annual Raven’s Call chant that echoes through these halls every Homecoming. But tradition is only as strong as the new voices that carry it forward. So raise your heads, freshmen. Look around. These are the faces who will become your allies, your rivals, your greatest stories.”
Will looked around, suddenly his eyes meeting a pair of beautiful green ones, a guy with blond, wavy hair was looking right at him, his face like made by the gods themselves, giving Will a sweet smile that had him blushing and turning his head back to the front.
“Be bold. Be kind. Be unapologetically yourself. Because at Ravenwood, we don’t just learn history, we make it. Together. Ravenwood forever!”
The last words rang out, and the hall exploded. Will heard Mike laughing at the way the elderly woman screamed rebelliously
“RAVENWOOD!” someone yelled from the back.
“FOREVER!” the rest thundered back, fists pumping, voices cracking with freshman enthusiasm.
The chant started spontaneously, clapping in rhythm, then words: “Ravens rise! Ravens soar! Ravenwood forevermore!” It built and built until the hammerbeam ceiling seemed to vibrate with it. Will listened to what seemed to be the schools hymn with a big, ear to ear smile.
Mike leaned sideways, grinning like a maniac. “Okay, I’m sold. If they break into a full on bardic performance next, I’m transferring my character sheet permanently.”
Will was laughing,actually laughing, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep it together. “You’d probably demand they add a verse about your legendary failed stealth checks.”
“‘Mike Wheeler, master of the critical fail,’” Mike intoned in a deep, dramatic voice, “‘rolls a one and trips over his own ego.’ Classic bard move.”
Will pressed his lips together to stifle another snort. “You’d catch me if I did the same, right?”
Mike’s grin softened for half a second. “Always. You’d catch me too.”
The applause at the end was thunderous. Lights came up. Everyone rose in a chaotic wave of maroon blazers and excited chatter.
Mike stretched, cracking his back dramatically. “Alright, that was weirdly inspiring. I’m almost motivated to not fail calculus. Almost. I still need to find the secret passage to the kitchens. Late night snacks are survival priority one. You in for a midnight quest?”
Will opened his mouth to answer when a girl stepped directly in front of them,tall, dark hair in perfect waves, maroon blazer worn like armor, smile sharp and confident. Lila. Senior. House Raven royalty.
“Hi,” she said, eyes sliding straight past Mike to Will like he was furniture. “You’re new, right? I’m Lila.”
Will blinked. “Uh..yeah. Hi. I’m Will.”
Mike’s eyebrows shot up. He looked between them, suddenly very still.
Lila didn’t even glance at Mike. “I noticed you during the assembly. You were actually paying attention instead of… whatever that was.” She flicked a dismissive little gesture toward Mike without looking at him. “Planning your next critical fail, maybe?”
Mike’s mouth opened, then closed. He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Wow. Hi. I’m Mike. The guy standing literally right here.”
Lila finally spared him a glance, cool, assessing, unimpressed. “Yeah, I figured. The one doing the dramatic whispering the whole speech.” She turned back to Will, smile softening into something almost sweet. “There’s a party tonight. Back courtyard, east wing. String lights, music, the whole thing. Starts around ten. You should come.” Her eyes lingered on Will’s face, deliberate. “I’d really like to see you there.”
Will’s cheeks went pink. “Oh. Um. Maybe. Thanks.”
She gave him a small, knowing smile, then flicked her gaze to Mike one last time, like an afterthought. “You can tag along if you want, I guess. But don’t feel like you have to babysit.” She laughed lightly, as if it were a joke, but the edge was unmistakable.
Then she slipped away into the crowd with a little wave aimed only at Will.
The silence that followed was brutal.
Mike stared after her, jaw tight. Then he turned to Will slowly, expression caught somewhere between disbelief and something sharper.
“Dude.”
Will refused to meet his eyes. “Don’t.”
“Dude.”
“Mike.”
Mike grabbed Will’s arm, harder than usual, fingers curling like he needed the anchor. “She just… she just talked to you like I’m invisible. Like I’m the NPC in your storyline. And then invited you to the party of the year while basically telling me to stay in the tavern and roll for initiative on my dignity.”
Will finally looked up, cheeks still flushed. “She was just… joking. I think.”
Mike’s laugh was short, bitter. “Yeah. Hilarious. Ten out of ten roast. She’s got the whole senior sarcasm thing down.” He dropped his voice, mimicking her tone perfectly. “‘You can tag along if you want, I guess.’ Like I’m your annoying little brother who might ruin the vibe.”
Will shifted, uncomfortable. “Mike—”
“No, it’s fine. It’s whatever.” Mike’s grin was back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “A beautiful senior just singled you out on day one. You’re officially the main character. Congrats. You’re hot and talented and people are finally noticing. She noticed.”
He said “she noticed” like it tasted sour.
Will shoved him lightly, trying to lighten it. “Shut up. I’m not going without you anyway.”
Mike’s grin flickered. “Yeah? Because she basically said I’m optional equipment.”
Will’s voice went quiet, serious. “You’re not optional. You’re the reason I’m even considering it.”
Mike looked at him then, really looked. The jealousy was there, raw and unguarded for half a second, the way his jaw clenched, the way his hand stayed on Will’s arm like he was afraid someone else might take him away.
Then he exhaled, forced the grin wider. “Fine. I’ll go. Moral support. Wingman. Human shield. But if she tries to roll persuasion on you, I’m counterspelling with the most unhinged bardic insult I can think of.”
Will’s small smile returned, soft. “Deal.”
They pushed through the doors into the sunlight, side by side, the huge building humming behind them with leftover chants.
But Mike’s hand lingered on Will’s sleeve a second longer than usual.
And Will felt it, the sharp, unfamiliar tug in the air between them.
For the first time, he wondered if Mike was the one starting to feel unseen.
The sunlight had shifted to late afternoon gold by the time Mike and Will finally reached the boys’ wing. The historic corridor smelled of aged oak, lemon polish, and the faint, sweet dust of centuries. Room 13 sat at the far end, beneath a low, carved archway that forced Mike to duck with exaggerated drama.
Mike jangled the heavy iron key like it was a relic from a forbidden crypt. “Moment of truth. If this room has a secret trapdoor to the underworld or worse, a four poster that eats freshmen, I’m claiming it for my campaign. And you’re not allowed to complain when I use it to hide your sketchbooks for blackmail.”
Will rolled his eyes, but his smile was soft, nervous excitement thrumming under his skin. “If anything eats freshmen, you’re sleeping closest to it. I’ll just draw a memorial portrait of your dramatic demise.”
Mike shoved the thick oak door open.
Inside, the room breathed old world opulence shrunk down to intimate scale. Three alcove beds were built directly into the dark, paneled walls like luxurious coffins of carved mahogany, each framed by towering posts and heavy cornices dripping with ornate gothic carvings, twisting vines, tiny ravens and heraldic shields. The wood gleamed deep burgundy black, polished by generations of hands. Each alcove had its own built in bookshelf lining the back wall, heavy velvet curtains (maroon, of course) tied back with thick gold cords and a single brass sconce that cast warm, flickering pools of light. A shared antique desk sat beneath the tall, arched window, flanked by two mismatched carved chairs. The ceiling sloped gently, crossed with exposed beams painted with faint, constellation like stars that caught the dying sunlight in soft, dreamlike glimmers. The air felt thick with history grand, secretive, almost too beautiful to breathe in.
Mike dropped his duffel with a reverent thud. “Holy shit. We didn’t get a dorm room. We got Dracula’s private boudoir. This is peak Ravenwood. We’re basically living in a gothic novel and I’m the tragic hero who dies first because he’s too pretty.”
Will stepped inside slowly, fingers trailing over the nearest carved post. “It’s… insane. Like the whole place is watching us. And judging your taste in style Michael.”
Mike immediately vaulted into the middle alcove, sprawling across the thick mattress like he owned the castle. “Dibs on central throne. Best vantage point to guard the door from intruders.”
Will snorted, crossing to the left alcove (the one nearest the window). “You’re so dramatic. I’m taking this one. Best light for drawing, plus I get to watch you flail if a ghost actually shows up.”
Mike propped himself up on his elbows, smirking. “Oh, please. You’d be the first one hiding behind me screaming ‘Mike, save me!’ while I heroically roll a natural twenty and banish the spirit with my sheer charisma.”
Will raised an eyebrow, already unzipping his bag. “You’d roll a one and trip over your own ego into the afterlife. Then I’d have to resurrect you just so I could kill you again for being annoying.”
Mike’s grin turned wicked. He rolled off the middle bed in one fluid motion and lunged for Will’s alcove, grabbing him around the waist and yanking him down into the deep, plush bedding in a tangle of limbs and laughter. “Fight me for it, Byers, I actually like this bed way more. Winner gets the good bed. Loser has to sleep in the haunted one and deal with my snoring commentary all night.”
Will yelped, twisting to pin Mike’s shoulders against the quilted mattress. “You’re on. But you’re going down, Wheeler.”
They wrestled,playful, breathless, before Will managed to flip Mike onto his back and straddle his hips, hands braced on either side of his head inside the carved frame. Both were grinning, chests heaving, faces inches apart in the warm glow of the sconce.
Mike’s eyes sparkled up at him, voice dropping to that low, teasing register. “Damn. Critical success on your grapple check. You’ve got me pinned in the lord’s bed. You gonna finish me off or just stare at me all flustered?”
Will’s cheeks flushed hot, but he leaned in closer instead of pulling away. “Keep talking and I’ll make sure you never roll initiative again.”
Mike’s grin widened, slow and dangerous. “Promise?”
Will’s face went nuclear. He scrambled off like the bedding had caught fire, heart slamming. “Shut up. You’re the worst roommate ever Wheeler.”
Mike sat up slowly, still laughing, but softer now. “You love it. You’d be lost without your personal paladin to protect you from evil blonds and bad decisions.”
Will busied himself unpacking sketchbooks and pencils, shoving them into the built in shelves to hide how his ears burned. “Protect me? You’d sell me out for a bag of chips and a good story.”
Mike flopped back into his own alcove, arms behind his head, watching Will with lazy, possessive amusement. “Never. You’re my squishy chaotic good cleric. I’d die dramatically in your arms before I let anyone else steal you away.”
Will threw a balled up sock at his face. Mike caught it mid-air, laughing and threw it back harder. It escalated into a full sock war, ducking behind bedposts, using velvet curtains as cover, shouting increasingly ridiculous insults that echoed off the carved panels.
“Critical miss! Your aim is worse than a kobold with no thumbs!”
“You rolled a one on perception, you blind idiot! I’m literally the only one who can save you from yourself!”
They were both red faced and giggling, socks scattered like battlefield casualties across the Persian rug, when the door burst open without a knock.
A boy stood in the doorway, tall, blond wavy hair falling into bright green eyes, duffel slung casually over one shoulder. The same guy from the assembly. The one who’d smiled at Will like he’d already decided they were friends.
“Hey,” he said, voice warm and smooth, stepping inside without hesitation. “This Room 13? I’m Theo. Looks like I’m the third wheeler, roommate.”
Will froze mid-throw, sock dangling from his fingers. “Uh… yeah. Hi. Welcome.”
Theo’s gaze found Will first, lingering, soft, the same easy smile from the Great Hall. “Will, right? Saw you earlier. You looked like you actually cared about the speech. Rare around here.”
Will’s cheeks flared again. “Yeah. I mean—thanks. I’m Will. This is Mike.”
Theo finally glanced at Mike, polite but brief. “Hey, man.”
Mike’s grin had vanished. He sat up straighter in his bed, arms crossed, posture suddenly stiff and protective. “Hey.”
Theo dropped his bag near the right-hand alcove and looked around, taking in the carved grandeur with an appreciative nod. “This room is unreal. Proper gothic fantasy. You guys already claimed beds?”
Will gestured vaguely. “I’m on the left by the window. Mike’s in the middle. So… yeah. That one’s yours.” Pointing at the “haunted” one.
Theo laughed, easy, bright. “Fair enough. I don’t mind the wardrobe. I’ve got high charisma, might charm the carvings into giving me extra blanket space.”
Mike’s jaw ticked. He stood up slowly, stepping closer to Will until their shoulders brushed, deliberate, grounding. “He’s good where he is.”
Will shot Mike a quick, surprised look at the edge in his tone, then smiled at Theo. “The window’s nice, though. Good light for drawing.”
Theo’s smile widened. “Artist? Nice. I do photography..mostly night shots, architecture, stars. We should compare notes sometime. Maybe hit the astronomy tower after dark. Bet the view’s insane from up there.”
Will’s eyes lit up despite himself. “Yeah. That actually sounds really cool.”
Mike’s hand found Will’s elbow, light, but firm, fingers curling just a little like he was anchoring him in place. “We were just unpacking,” he said, voice casual but laced with something sharper. “And figuring out the kitchen passage for midnight snacks. Survival priority. You know, me and Will. Our thing.”
Theo raised an eyebrow, amused. “Midnight snacks? Respect. You two seem tight.”
“We are,” Mike said, too fast, too sharp. He didn’t let go of Will’s elbow. “Best friends since we were kids. Basically attached at the hip. Or the elbow, apparently.”
Theo nodded, unfazed, already unzipping his bag. “That’s awesome. Good to have people you know here. Makes everything easier.”
He turned back to Will, casual. “So, you going to Lila’s thing tonight? She mentioned she invited you.”
Will hesitated, glancing at Mike. “Maybe. We’re still deciding.”
Theo shrugged, smile easy. “Cool. If you do, find me. I’ll save you a spot by the fire. You seem like you’d actually appreciate the string lights.”
Mike’s grip on Will’s elbow tightened, just a fraction. “We’ll see,” he said, voice low. “If we go, we go together.”
Theo gave a small laugh and started unpacking, humming under his breath like nothing was amiss.
The room felt suddenly smaller, the carved posts looming like silent witnesses.
Mike dropped his voice, muttering so only Will could hear. “He’s… enthusiastic.”
Will bit his lip, fighting a smile. “He’s nice.”
“Yeah. Super nice.” Mike’s tone was dry enough to cut glass, but his thumb brushed once, almost unconsciously. over the inside of Will’s elbow. “Practically glowing when he looks at you. Like you’re the only interesting thing in the room.”
Will turned, searching Mike’s face. “You okay?”
Mike forced a grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Totally fine. Just didn’t expect to get a third roommate who’s already trying to steal my cleric on day one. In a room that looks like it belongs to Dracula, no less.”
Will’s expression softened. He leaned in, bumping Mike’s shoulder gently. “It’s still us against the world. You’re still my chaotic idiot and that will never change.”
Mike looked at him for a long beat, something raw and protective flickering behind the joke. Then he bumped Will’s shoulder back, softer this time.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Better not.”
But his hand stayed on Will’s elbow a second longer than necessary, thumb resting there like a promise.
And across the room, Theo glanced up once, catching the quiet closeness and smiled to himself, like he understood exactly what he’d walked into..